Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Catrina Candy Can
I LOVE LOVE LOVE HALLOWEEN!!!!!!
MWAAHAHAHAHAAAA! and junk and stuff
I love a holiday where people dress up like super heroes and pirates and hot dogs.
I don't get it when adults don't dress up.
I wanna say,
HEY! AREN'T YOU SICK AND TIRED OF LOOKING AND ACTING LIKE YOURSELF ALL THE TIME??? I know I am! I'm TOTALLY sick of you acting like yourself all the time!!
(Just kidding). I meant to say I know I am about ME. Or whatever.
I'm so sick of normal and rule following I could puke green jello with carrots.
All I want to do is paint my face like a savage, wear too much color and ruffles, throw back my head and howl at the moon.
Don't you ever want to be a moon howling savage?
I want that everyday.
But instead I wear pencil skirts to work and say things like,
"Would you prefer the color of your tub in white, biscuit or bone?"
Clients hum and haw and sweat it out.
"Oh me oh my! What a DIFFICULT decision! I'm sure I simply won't SLEEP tonight deciding....".
Bone is more expensive. You can brag to your friends about the color of your bone toilet! You can casually mention that not only are your tub and toilet bone but ALSO your sinks! Matching is fancy. I say bone is the obvious choice here.
Speaking of bones.
One day you and I will be nothing but a box of femurs and knee caps. And then we'll be dust.
How often do YOU think of your own mortality?
It freaks me out on a minute by minute basis.
We don't belong here. Look around.
Death is the great equalizer.
Jose Guadalupe Posada drew political cartoons featuring skeletons wearing fancy shmancy clothing.
He meant to poke fun at the rich and powerful by showing that dust they once were and to the dust they would return. Money would not save them. Praise of man would not save them.
He called these fancy skulls in feathered hats and jewels, Catrinas.
This Halloween I am La Catrina.
Posada spent the majority of his life trying to share a message. His cartoons were controversial and angered the wealthy. He was popular for a time. But he died in poverty.
That is to say that no matter what color your tub and toilets are, you will one day die.
Posada never even HAD a toilet. Imagine that. Imagine if you didn't have a toilet. What would the neighbors say?????
WHAT'S THAT? you say ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME IT DOESN'T MATTER IF MY CAMODE IS BUSCUIT OR BONE?
That's what I'm saying.
I'm also saying it's okay if your baseboards are dirty. And it's okay if there are child lick marks on your sliding glass door.
I'm even saying that it doesn't matter that my Bella (12) tried to be a sweetheart today whilst I was away at work.
Bella tried to be a big helper by scrubbing the dirty spots from off the carpet in her room. With straight BLEACH. There are 11-ish HUGE bleached out spots on her carpet now. It looks horrendous. And I can't replace it any time soon.
Bella cried. I laughed.
What's done is done. These things don't matter.
What matters is that I'm gonna go TRICK OR TREATING TONIGHT, BAY BAY!!!!!
I'm gonna cavort with ghosts and witches and men in mustard suits.
What matters is that I'm gonna kiss my babies good night after a full day of savage howling and then I will pick all the Reese's PB Cups out of their candy bags and eat until dawn (or probably just 10:30 cause I have to work on tomorrow...).
Posted by Crystal Pistol at 12:20 AM