Overdue Apologies- Halloween Edition

Dear Louis,

I know I already offered an apology for the whole bath tub water incident. But I feel I owe you another for Halloween of 1998.

You see, my friend Lauren and I were very concerned with getting our costumes ready. I can't remember what the hell I was going as. But it was of the utmost importance that we discuss it behind closed doors. That day, you were your normal, bouncy, 12-year old self, excited at the prospect of a sackful of candy, and looking forward to donning your latest army-surplus getup. Your pre-sugar madness brought you, uninvited, into my room.

So I yelled at you to leave. This had the opposite effect. It was a classic case of moody teenager versus pre-teen wise-ass. I pushed you out, you stuck your arms and legs in the doorway. I kicked at you, you just laughed. I rolled my eyes at Lauren, pushing the door as hard as I could, as you tried with all your might to push the it back open. I gave one final shove, and you were out.

But something was wrong with what should have been a routine exiling. I was holding the door closed, yet it didn't want to stay flush with its frame. And then you let out a cry. You were in real pain. I quickly opened the door again, and freed your finger.

As I replay this in my head, I want to run over to you and hug you and say I'm sorry and tell you that when I'm older I will write you $500 checks every month to make up for this. But, I was 14, and a jerk and so as you stood holding your hand and howling in the hallway, I shut the door again and went back to costume planning. My face felt hot from guilt.

Dad came to my door about 20 minutes later. "You broke the tip of his finger. He is in a lot of pain. I had to to give him a shot to numb it, and now his finger's going to be in a splint while he trick-or-treats." He didn't ground me, or yell. I think he knew that just telling me about Louie's situation calmly would be painful enough. It was.

Lauren and I went down to the end of my driveway and sat by the mailbox. I looked at my feet, and played with a roly-poly bug in the dirt. As it curled and uncurled slowly, I told Lauren that I felt like crap. I probably had a more miserable time than you did that evening, worrying that you weren't enjoying yourself because of what I had done. But, judging by your confectionery haul, you were able to have a good, long trick-or-treating session with your pals.

Later, when we got home, and you and I dumped all of our candy out onto the floor as was customary, I wanted to make it up to you some how. So, staring at your bandaged finger while you sorted your candy into piles, I'm sure I probably gave you some pretty great candy trades.

All Ho's Eve

Everyone is talking about Halloween (Actually, everyone is talking about the dismal stock market situation, but let me just have this one, okay?) and I couldn't be more excited!

Being the organized and on-top-of-it individual that I am, I'm still deciding on my Halloween costume. I have a week to figure it out. Actually, given my work schedule, I only have this weekend to figure it out. So, what better way to spend my down time at work than surfing the internet for costume ideas? (My psychiatrist said to use my free time to learn a foreign language or better myself intellectually somehow, but what the hell does he know?)

Google "Women's Halloween costumes." G'head. I dare you.

Witchs, pirates, cops, ladybugs, NUNS- They've found a way to make everything hyper-sexy. Yet, the men's costumes are pretty tame. Priest, psycho butcher, Batman, Julius Caesar. How come, if a girl wants to dress up for Halloween, she's gotta be a skeevy mass of cleavage and leg? Do you know how many people would actually look appealing in those outfits? The nine people they hired to model the clothes in the first place. That's how many.

This isn't a new phenomenon to me. I went to school in Malibu for lord's sake. I recall in the 8th grade a girl in my class (I'm not going to name names because we just became friends on Facebook and I really don't want to screw that up) wore a Nurse costume to school on Halloween. Aww, how cute, you're probably saying. What a wholesome and Florence Nightingale-y costume!

WRONG.

Have you ever been to Hollywood Boulevard? Have you ever a passed a store called Bed Behavior? I believe that is where the girl got her costume. I think the only part of this chick I couldn't see were her lungs. I learned more about the female body on Halloween '97 than I did in my freaking college anatomy class. So, she strutted around all day, twirling her plastic stethascope, driving all the other girls to feelings of utter inadequacy.

Meanwhile, I too had given into the pressure to dress at a sexiness level far outside of my comfort zone and was dressed as a "Sorceress." You better believe I was wearing what I considered a low-cut dress, with a fancy steel-reinforced brassiere. PLUS- a headband made from glow-in-the-dark bones and tusks, a feather boa, AND a custom-coiffed Barbie head with a safety pin stuck through it hanging from a chain around my neck. (I later donned that Barbie head every day for several months in the 10th grade as part of my "Bite me- I'm weird and proud of it" phase. That's a whole other blog.) Needless to say, I looked freaking awesome. Awesome enough that - OMG! - the most popular boy in school told me I looked "rad." (Cleverly, I rolled my eyes at him, and as a result, didn't ever have a real boyfriend until 12th grade.)

But I couldn't compete with The Naughty Pre-Teen Nurse. It just doesn't seem fair that a guy can get away with smearing red tempra paint on his shirt and calling it a costume, and the other half of us have to wear skirts so short you can see our "parts." I just can't ever seem to make it to that level of Skank. Sure, once I was Tinker Bell On A Bender, complete with hip flask and crooked fairy wings. But I was completely out-sexied by the scads of Slutty Waitresses and Skeevey Bank Tellers.

Of course, I'm still going to give it the old college try and go as some boob-tastic version of a beloved childrens' book character or something. Though I still haven't decided on an actual costume, I have purchased a FANTASTIC bra, so I've got a pretty good chance of fitting in this year.

Avoid Sudden Movements

A Fact About Me: I find shows about beekeeping fascinating. There is a show on RFD, the farming channel (Yeah. I watch it. So?) that comes on about once a year. It features Dr. Keith Delaplane, who may or may not have a hidden stash of dead wives buried underneath his porch. Keith teaches you all you need to know about beekeeping.

But once a year is not enough to satiate my hunger for apiological programming. Thank god for YouTube, and this guy. I love him. Aside from his vast knowledge of bees, he is completely amusing and wacky. To see my favorite video of his, click here. If you need to see more of Crazy Bee Guy, search "ExpertVillage" on YouTube. He has TONS of videos.