"That lady answered the door wearing a tank top and booty shorts!" said one of my children whilst Trick Or Treating tonight.
"Yeah. She was wearing daisy dukes."
I can't be sure as to why my children were so impressed with the booty short lady. They mentioned her several times throughout the night.
I believe they may have been scared given the woman had long ago surpassed the tank and booty short wearing age.
I am grateful for the fact that my religion frowns upon showing a great deal of skin. It will prevent me from wearing things I ought not when I am of a certain age. I'm afraid that of my own accord I would strut about in a belly shirt way into my 50's.
Another terrifying occurrence took place when my timid son (who is deathly afraid of clowns) was assaulted before my very eyes by a small boy wearing a horrible clown mask.
"BOOOOOWAHAHAHA!" said the terrible clown boy.
The villain jumped out from behind some shrubbery just as my son was about to entreat the owners of this fine house as to weather they preferred to trick or treat their guests. The master of the house answered his request in the meanest of terms.
My son was shaken to his very core. He screamed and convulsed like I had never witnessed him do before. He spent the rest of the evening peering cautiously from behind my bright orange skirt and his trusty flashlight.
My boy is such a sweet and sensitive spirit. I hope he remains so forevermore.
When he is man of 40 with children of his own I hope he still screams and shakes when I jump out from the shrubbery wearing an evil clown mask...
I wore a bright orange dress tonight. It's vintage, of course. A tad too big for me.
"Where is your costume?" asked my children.
"I'm wearing it. I'm a pumpkin," said I.
"You look more like a pumpkin pie. All smashed and flat and skinny and crusty."
"Thank you. That's very kind."
I simply LOVE this orange pumpkin dress. I don't care what anybody says! She makes me happy with her flowy twirly skirt and shiny sequins and Marilyn Monroe-esque feel. If only there were a blowy grate I could stand on... Then life would be perfection.
My husband and I took the kids to the Fire Station before we took them to the fair streets of Verona.
There were lots of manly firefighters there overseeing games and giving out candy to all the kiddies.
Also there were several scantily clad single mothers. It was fun to watch them make eyes with the firemen and then bend down to pick up a toy one of their children had dropped.
I tried to be sexy for my own man. But I was a crusty pumpkin. And pumpkins are rarely sexy. DRAT! I WISH I could be sexy and drop a toy and make eyes. I SUCK at this!
See?
I won't quit my day job. That's for darn sure!
Mr. Pistol was in rare form tonight. I am quite attracted to that man. It's a good thing too... seeing as how time and all eternity is a good golly of a long time.
He was very stoic and serious. In general, the more ridiculous I become the more serious he becomes. Yin vs Yang. Tonight he was an oak. This pleases me as I don't think I would find him nearly as sexy if he wore an orange twirly dress.
The final activity of the evening included me driving my older girls to the home of a crush. (I won't say who has the crush nor on whom.)
I drove them to the door thinking they would ring the doorbell and beg for candy as they had at the 300 previous houses we had encountered. But no.
"Hide your candy bag," said one daughter.
"Aren't you going to trick or treat?" I asked stupidly.
"NO! We're just going to say hi."
"You're just going to say... hi?"
"Yup."
Someone answered the door. It was not The Crush but his sister instead.
"Hi," said one of my daughters.
The crush (who must surely have superhuman hearing) smashed his face against the screen of an upstairs window.
"Are you still trick or treating?" he asked (face still smashed).
"Nah. We just came to say hi."
"Oh. Hi."
"Hi."
"See you at school tomorrow."
"OK. Bye."
Ah. Young love.
