By The Wiz
My kids are in the second week of fall break, a 3 week break that is possibly one week too long. I love my children, but the school is calling my name. Hey, I never pretended to be Nie Nie. (And if you didn’t cry during her Oprah appearance, than you are either made of stone, or don’t watch Oprah.)
Anyway, today we went to skate country, aka Roller Derby of Death. Fortunately, we had missed the times when we could skate, and ahhhhhhh, sweet freedom. Now I can go home and write my Top Chef post - that is, assuming the internet was working.
But NO. We have to stop and deal with the whole Halloween costume thing, because we live in a country that likes to celebrate random made up holidays by dressing up as skanky nurses and handing out high fructose corn syrup to growing children.
I walk into the store to be greeted by a song about “flirting with the devil.” Ah, hilarity, thy name is Halloween. What fun! And look at these pornographic costumes! They’re totally expensive! And howdy! My son wanted a toy gun for his cowboy costume, and with all the porn masquerading as legitimate costumes, bleeding ’scream’ face masks, and zombies that will eat your brains, (fake brains included!) apparently a gun was just too violent. (Go ahead and judge me for allowing my kid a toy gun for Halloween. If he grows up to be a serial killer, then you can say ‘I told you so’ all you want. Assuming, of course, that he hasn’t killed you first. Also assuming, of course, that we can find a toy gun.)
I swore I wasn’t going to write a “Halloween sucks” post this year. But you know, it just does. And it must be said. It completely ruins October, which is a perfect month otherwise.
This year, I will actually be in Utah for my second set of infusions for my diabetic study. I will miss all the frivolity. Grandma can deal with the trick or treats, and you know what? She’ll like it. So there.
And if I happen to turn the porch light off at my parent’s and turn on a movie that doesn’t involve anonymous phone calls about children, fridays that fall on the thirteenth of the month, or nightmares on a street of any name, well, then, that’s my right.
What was I talking about? Oh, fall break. Right - a long time with the kiddos. It’s all right, of course, and you can bet large amounts of money that a few days into my Utah trip with experimental drugs coursing through my system, I’ll be wallowing in homesickness, longing for their stinky little feet.
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