Dear Friends,
As Halloween approaches me, I can’t help but be haunted by Halloweens past. For some reason, Halloween always is responsible for some sort of dramatic event in my life. It usually involves a boy and for whatever reason, being dressed up makes it all the more dramatic. I think the drama started my freshman year because it was the first time I got the “spins” from drinking. I remember laying in my Twin bed in my dorm thinking I was definitely going to die, and it was going to get great press because it’d be Halloween. Then I fell asleep, had no dreams and woke up, oddly alive and breathing. The following year, I dressed up as a slutty Dorothy (she followed too many yellow brick roads) and got in a fight with my then boyfriend about something I cannot remember due to “power hour” if that means anything to anybody… I ended up ripping off his aviator sunglasses (that were randomly apart of his costume but I just remember thinking he was dressed up as an asshole), throwing them on the floor, and stomping on them with my red glitter heels. Then I ran off in the freezing cold (it usually snows by Halloween in Boulder) and I believe one of my friends found me by word-of-mouth that a drunk, depressed Dorothy was running around the Hill. The following year, I wore the same outfit and had a love bite from some idiot I was seeing at the time, which prompted a random creeper on Colfax Avenue to ask me if Toto gave me that hickey. I had to give it to him though, pretty hilarious comment, even from a creeper.
The next year I was Jessica Rabbit – GET IT – and I wore a big, red wig. It was very hard to tame especially while wearing a winter jacket. I would never have the energy for that now. I finally made it down to my favorite bar (not a lot of cabs in Boulder, people) and someone rushed up to me. “OH MY GOD – I love your costume – Are you the Little Mermaid?” WHOA, what? Little Mermaid wears a bikini and has a tail. She’s also a mermaid and I was a rabbit. WTF – were we not all born in the 80’s? She’s literally the only cartoon character named Jessica and she was sexy so I had to be her. But like, to be confused with that Ariel slut was no fun. I guess people only noticed the red hair – in their defense, it was hard to see passed that.
Which brings me to last year when I was dating a guy who begged me to come to his friends’ Halloween party just so he could not talk to me. It was part of his costume – I should have known. He was Harpo Marx, and apparently, Harpo never introduced his girlfriend to his friends because you know, he wasn’t supposed to talk. He just honked his weird horn thing. I can still hear that horn. We broke up the next day.
This year, I am going to be Pebbles Flintstone. I hope I don’t get any Bam Bam jokes or hit on by someone dressed up as my father, Fred – or at worse, my mother, Wilma. Maybe I should bring the stone-aged bat out just as a safety measure.
I wonder why I’m always haunted with drama on Halloween. It’s like I’d rather have a ghost in my house than another dating Hallow-blunder. Maybe I should just be a Break-Up next year. Half of me could be a girl with make-up running down her face and the other half could be a guy drinking beer with his buddies. Oye, as we Jews say. Hope all of your Halloweens are drama-free! Be good to me NYC, please.
Kisses,
Jessica
