Why I Hate Halloween

Over the past few years I have really grown to hate Halloween. I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with the costumes or the fact that you have to make a spectacle of yourself just to get free candy. Whoop-di-do. Free candy. Blah. It’s amazing what people will do to get something for free. One time I saw people wait in line for three hours to get a free Whopper from Burger King. A Whopper they could have purchased for $1.06. Idiots. For this reason, free candy is not an incentive for me. I can spend $20 and get candy that I actually want to eat, instead of having to grovel for total crap candy on a stranger’s doorstep.

Bad candy was the worst. Smarties, a.k.a. colorful flavored chalk, were my least favorite. I also hated old ladies that would give you pennies, an apple or a toothbrush. Of those three items we always had to throw away the latter two. An apple could have all manner of pins and razor blades hidden inside, and the toothbrush could have easily been soaked in poison or used to clean up old lady urine.

Our parents would make us inspect each piece of candy that we received to make sure there were no suspicious holes in the wrappers. Often times you would have to throw perfectly good candy away because my father thought the candy had been tampered with. This was especially horrifying as you first had to make a total ass of yourself to get the candy only to have your parents throw it in the garbage. This is a lose-lose situation.

You may think that I hate Halloween because I never had a good costume. Au contraire. I always had the best costumes growing up. I usually won the costume contests. Below is are a few of the more notable:

1. Yoda. I was an awesome Yoda. My mother sewed me a little smock that could have served as a back-up costume for the actual Yoda. I had little three toed feet that were stitched to the tops of my shoes, and my face was painted green with long pointy ears. I believe I won first place in the costume contest that year, and my costume was so realistic I remember a little girl cried.

2. Charlie brown. I had this amazing plastic Charlie Brown head that I wore. I even had the yellow shirt with the black zig-zag stripe across the chest. I even vaguely remember having a stuffed Snoopy.

3. A Genie. This may sound like a pretty ho-hum costume, but it was fierce. I had a blue painted face, a turban with an authentic ivory broach pinned above my forehead. And I was in lamp. A lamp you ask? Yes, I was in a full size Genie Lamp. It was 6 feet long, and just wide enough that it wouldn’t fit through doors. It was spray painted gold with straps that went over my shoulders to hold it up. There were large painted gemstones all around the lamp. Again, winner of best costume.

4. The next year I was a milk shake. Yes, a milk shake. My father made constructed this one out of cardboard. I was of course a Strawberry milkshake. There was a hole cut in the middle of one side so I could see while walking. At the top of the milkshake there was 6 inches of clear plastic and cotton batting so that it looked like I was topped with whipped cream. I can’t remember if there was a large cherry, but I do remember the straw. The straw was so tall that I again couldn’t walk through a doorway. Only this year I was too tall to fit through the door, instead of being too wide as I was the prior year as a genie.

I also hate Halloween because even when people aren’t in costumes, they are. Spider earrings, blinking lapel buttons, socks decorated with pumpkins and ghosts, sweaters with a witch or black cat cleverly crocheted into the pattern. Gaggers! Holiday Dressers should be ashamed of themselves. Holiday Dressers are worse than Pay Less shoes and denim on denim outfits combined.

I had a truly humiliating experience when I was mistaken for a Holiday Dresser. It was Halloween and because I care nothing for this stupid holiday, I had totally forgotten about it. I had a big meeting that day and my mind was more pre-occupied with the meeting than with free candy. Shortly after lunch I am tapped on the shoulder from behind. “Want a Buffalo Chip?” Unbeknownst to me, Robert Redford had snuck into the meeting and was now sitting behind me, offering me Buffalo Chips. For those who don’t know, Buffalo Chips are dried apples covered in chocolate. They are meant to look like buffalo poop, and for an unknown reason tourists buy them up by the cartful. Not wanting to be rude, I take a Buffalo Chip and hand the bag back to him. He takes it from my hand and says, “Nice shirt.” I thought this was kind of an odd comment, so I said, “Uh, thanks…”

As the meeting was coming to a close, the facilitator said, “Well I should wrap things up as I know many of you have kids that will want to go Trick-Or-Treating.” I thought, “Trick-Or-Treating? That’s odd. Is it even Halloween?” Then it hits me. It is in fact Halloween. Shit. I look down and see I am wearing an orange shirt. Redford’s comment starts to make sense. The realization hits me that he now thinks I am one of Them. A Holiday Dresser. This is possibly one of the worst things that has ever happened to me. There was no easy way to clear my name either. If I went and found him and explained that the orange shirt was a total accident he would either think I was lying, or a total psychopath. Most likely he would think both. I wasn’t sure which category I would rather be in. Holiday Dresser or raving lunatic. Is there really a difference?

So this year when people ask me what I am going to be for Halloween I am going to slap them across the face. Possibly using both hands. This will accomplish two things. One, it will prevent me from having to explain why I hate Halloween. And two, it will perhaps make them hate Halloween as much as I do.