A Scary Ride

About a week ago, some friends and I were walking down Damen Avenue and stopped at a house that had an amazing Halloween set-up in their yard. The actual house was old and slightly creepy looking to begin with. The front yard was riddled with wild plant life, and well-placed decorations. By decorations I mean a small table with a lamp nestled in the brush, with a grim reaper type dude sitting beside it and lots of well-placed realistic looking bats, gravestones and skeletons. For a moment, I truly enjoyed the Halloween season. When I was little, my neighbor Roman would set up the most elaborate Haunted House in his basement. That, along with trick-or-treating at the house at the top of the hill that gave out full packs of Bubbalicious gum, was the highlight of the season. As I stared at the eery house on Damen Ave, I thought that maybe I do like Halloween.

Until last night's train ride home reminded me why I hate it.

Six women, who I later figured out were co-workers, discussed their Halloween plans. "I'm gonna be Captain Morgan and Jeff is gonna be a breathalizer. The costume is totally obscene! There's a sign by his crotch that says "suck it!"

Shrieks of laughter from her posse.

"NO! That is TOO funny!"

"I know!!!"

Seriously? I wouldn't even say it was funny, let alone TOO funny.

They took a break from discussing Halloween to talk about the best place to get a makeover.

"I like the one at Barney's. It's not that much more expensive and they do a much better job. Ya know for like one if you're just getting it before going out." Wha? A makeover before going out? They're not talking about their wedding day?

I took a moment to judgmentally critique each woman's make-up application, and felt slightly condescendingly sad for them that they were convincing themselves that they needed it. They were cute gals. I think redhead's foundation was distracting from her lovely eyes.

Back to Halloween outfits. "My friends and I are all going as different drinks!"

"Oh my god. TOO funny!"

Geez, here we go again. Have you people not heard the one about the child molester and the little boy going into the woods?
(Little boy says: "I'm scared. These woods are so creepy." Child molester says: "You're scared!? I'm the one who's gonna have to walk out of here by myself." Now that is...ok...not too funny...but sorta funny at least).

"I'm gonna be Bloody Mary. I'll have Mary written on my shirt with some blood, and a hat with a carrot and celery on it."

I wanted to interject, "Let me guess- you're gonna be a slutty Bloody Mary. Or a Bloody Mary cat that wears fishnets." But I remained quiet and thought, I could go as Bloody Mary and not have to write Mary on my shirt. That's mildly interesting. Then I remembered that I loathe wearing Halloween costumes.

Many years ago my friend Pam and I went to Ireland, and would up sharing a room at a hostel with a hilariously bizarre German dude and his hilariously bizarre Belgian pal. They were funny guys but the best part of it was that often their jokes didn't translate into English. Pam and I were laughing hysterically because the jokes made absolutely no sense, and our pals thought we were laughing cause they were just that freaking funny. I was laying on the bottom bunk and the Belgian was on the bunk above me. The lights were out and we were all ready to sleep. The Belgian said, "I'll try not to move around too much because I don't want to come crashing down on you." It was silent for a second, and the German dude said, "Dat iz vut veed call a Bloody Mary." Now THAT is funny.