Monday, October 30, 2006


I am a fucking raccoon, okay?*

*Not a costume.

My friend is dressing up as a vampire. I hate to tell her but if I saw an obese vampire flying? coming at me, I wouldn't run like hell, just stand there laughing and probably die to death.

So sue me.

Also, she insisted on having prescription Halloween contacts (prescription freak contacts, that you wear for one day and one day only), so if she ever comes crying to me about being broke again, remind me to slap her.

Someone neglected to tell me that you cannot get a pumpkin, at least, not at a major supermarket, the week of/before Halloween.

I finally found two slightly defective ones at Trader Joe's because I'll be buggered by a rabid goat before I disappoint the kids.

The "kids" being two grown-assed men, one pushing 50.

I think Cranky has kidney stones. Oooooh, scary. That's about as spooky as we get around here. Wooooooo, fire pee. We're old, our backs hurt.


You cannot drive in L.A. - especially Hollywood - on Halloween. At all. Just...don't. It is the worst night of the year for traffic from people running around like chickens in the final stages of syphilis to find a costume that is not really considered clothing. Then, the city closes down two or three major arteries for street fairs. So even the streets that are open get clogged from the overflow, plus people slowing down to rubberneck at all the semi-nude types walking down the street in nothing but a g-string, black angel wings, and the clap. Everybody feels compelled to do this in order to get half-naked in public & contract yet another venereal disease. It is basically just a huge Petri dish for crotchial beasties. Scabies and herpes and crabs, oh, my!

I would just stay home but I urgently need to carve my fugly pumpkin and make S'mores and the oven's out. Hopefully in a relatively herp-free zone. And don't tell me to buy those S'mores candy bars, either. Those are sick.


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