red right cankle

I love Halloween. I love it love it love it, love it so much. I am giddy with Halloween, and really Halloween, I thank you, because you are the reason I am proud to be an American. Halloween is a more appropriate time to play obnoxious country music really loud and be fat and wear fanny packs and shoot off fireworks and be STEREOTYPICAL IGNANT AMERICANS than fourth of July, because it's Halloween, dammit.

People, this costume thing. It's going to be just so huge and retarded.

Top three Halloweens yr girl can remember:

1. Michelle* stayed the night and we had a sleepover and we dressed like hobos and we were just old enough to have serious trick and treat STAMINA. I had a toilet plunger handle with a bandana on the end, and Michelle had a fake frog in the pocket of her dad's flannel shirt. Also, I wore rolled up jeans and converse high-tops (pink), which really should be my uniform to this day. Except not pink. Also, what kind of parents think "hey, it's cool" when their little girls dress like homeless people? My kind of parents, apparently.

I think this was third grade, and I had the biggest candy score of my young life that year.

* I was in a wedding with Michelle about two years ago, it weirdly happened on accident after not having seen the girl since 1996? And we both wore long, crazy silver dresses and we're cool now, even though she ended up beating me in the fifth grade spelling bee and it took me a while to get over that. Also, she has Chinese symbols tattooed all over the back of her neck, and call it a hunch that maybe they don't mean "peace" and shit.

2. The year I made the most fantastic Bjork swan dress of all time, and was a total hit here there and everywhere, except for one dumb party full of Duke alums where a drunk girl in a beehive wig stumbled up to me and said "I get it! You're a bird woman!" Right.

3. Okay, really there are only two good ones.

- - -

We had a little party on Saturday night, sorry I didn't invite you, internets, but you know. Computers weird me out. Holy shit, never a good idea, BTW, the not-eat-anything-but-a-handful-of-trail-mix-with-the-M&Ms-picked-out-for-consumption-and-a-fingerful-or-two-of-hummus accidental Hollywood diet plan, and then drinking an entire bottle of wine, by yourself, by 9:30 PM. Reiteration: not a good idea. Hi, coworkers I think I scared! Hi ex-roommate from 1999 who I haven't seen in a year and is also scared! I may or may not have led a nonsensical conversation about monkeys, and introduced people to each other over and over again. Also, our neighbors probably officially hate our guts. And our kitchen is a goddman natural disaster. And we drank all the alcohol in world. Sorry world.

And yesterday I wore sweatpants all day.

Besides drunk me and the fact that I make only the choicest guacamole ever, the best part of Sat. night was that people left as sacrifices to the God of Party several bottles of wine. Okay, no, that was good, but not the best. THE BEST: Someone brought us the NRA WILD GAME COOKBOOK, which is a thousand different kinds of rad. Curried squirrel pot pie and pilaf, anyone? Because I'm yr hostess.

- - -

Oh, in other not fascinating news: our dog ate catfood and has taken to burping catfood breath in my face.

More later, I have nothing else to do all day.