The Imports & A Couple Of Rockin' Mommies

After perusing the internets today and reading about various Halloween tricks and treats in various parts of these United States, I figured I would hop on that ghost train and give you a taste of what my little sleepy neighborhood experienced last night.

Unless you've been totally ignoring my blog, you already know CruiserMel's love for all things Halloween. It's just one of those parts of childhood that I've held onto, along with Todd Rundgren, my blue teddy bear named Christmas, and my love of straws. Matter of fact, my love of Halloween has probably blossomed even more so since I purchased my house five years ago.

Once I got out of apartment living and into a real neighborhood, I hit the big box stores like Garden Ridge, Home Depot and Lowe's for holiday decorations like a hor attacking a john. Give me anything that lights up, makes noise or inflates and can be an eyesore to my neighbors and I'm a happy girl.

I rushed home from work to put the finishing touches on my exhibit and readied myself for the little darlings to come ringing my doorbell. I lit my luminarias along the sidewalk (and scorched my thumb, thankyouverymuch Bic Lighter Company). I lit all four pumpkins. I hid my strobe light from obvious view and put it on extra slow strobe so as to terrify the parents who would think someone was taking photos of their angels to put on the internet for pervs. I turned on my purple spider lights over the doorway. And for the "star on the tree" if you will, I turned on creepy music and sound effects to waft through the front yard. Usually, I have my 8 foot tall inflatable Dracula to assemble, but the wind was blowing and I was afraid he'd take flight, so I punted that idea for this year. Back in your coffin, Drac.

Then, I lie in wait. (laid in wait? evs.)

*ding-dong*

I grabbed my bowl of four pounds of various chocolate goodies and found that my little visitors were imports from another side of town. Okay, I said to myself, these kids don't have much in their little lives - so I gave each one 2 or 3 pieces. (I learned my lesson last year about not letting the little monsters reach into the bowl themselves. Thanks readers.)

For the most part, they were all polite children, costumed in mostly Hannah Montana clothing, who I think is the newest slut on little girls' radars or super heroes for the boys. There may have even been one boy dressed as Hannah Montana. That tells me this person, whoever she is, will have Britney status tout suite.

I think I learned how to say Happy Halloween in Spanish, too, but I've slept since then so that's totally vamanos.

The kids had fun and some even commented on my great decorations and the scary music. Yay for me.

There were only a couple of times I had to bite my tongue. On at least two occasions, there would be one bigger kid amongst the little ones. No big deal - that's responsible, I thought. But this bigger kid would be dressed in a costume - usually the most elaborate, complete with face paint and would have his or her own plastic pumpkin bucket extended. Upon closer observation, this wasn't a kid (or even a teen)! In one instance, this bigger kid was close to my age. F.U. Mommy, that's just not right. But I caved because both of these bigger kids were way bigger than I am and I really don't want to be on the morning news. Bitches. Seriously - that's criminal.

The cutest little one was my very last trick-or-treater - a little black boy, maybe 18 months old, toddling with help from his mother, wearing a Darth Vader suit, carrying a sword in one hand and his pumpkin in the other hand, while trying to balance his helmet on his tiny head. Did I mention his costume was an adult-sized suit? Yup. It was kinda sad. But adorable at the same time. I gave him my very last piece of candy and was wishing I'd taken down those mommies in sheep's clothing earlier in the evening. I will forever have his image in my mind - toddling away from the door with his pumpkin in his right hand, trying to balance his helmet and in his left hand, a light sabre and one measly piece of chocolate. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

And the award for best parents goes to the two mid-thirties women who were escorting a pack of kids. They were holding large "big gulp" cups and were giggling uncontrollably, while eating Almond Joys from their very own bag. These gals rocked. I suspect those big cups were spiked with something other than Slurpee mix. Huh? Ya think so, too?

My friend L and I watched first season episodes of "Dexter" to keep the mood for the evening. It was spookalicious!

And now to pull out the Thanksgiving decorations...