It’s Halloween. AGAIN.
In what’s rapidly becoming a favorite tradition of mine, I am once again planning to spend the annual night of debauchery hunkered down in my room, either trying to finish my midterm OR watching whatever is on HBO.
And before you call me a loser, consider this.
It’s not that I’m against Halloween in any way. I don’t think it’s silly that people spend their time and money coming up with a creative costume. In fact, I admire them.
If I were to dress up for Halloween, I’d need to have the perfect get-up. If you know me at all, you know that little things like this mean something to me. I would need at least three months to ponder, purchase and execute the perfect costume. It would have to be clever, out-of-the-box thinking, and original. Nothing short of peer adulation would do for me.
Instead of taking up the challenge every year, though, I’ve decide to dismiss Halloween by using my favorite excuse…”Well, if EVERYONE went out, who would give out the candy?”
Ok…NOW you can call me a loser.
But just to let you know that I haven’t ALWAYS been the Scrooge of Halloween, let me share with you my absolute favorite costume from the archives of my childhood.
In fact, if I remember correctly, it was actually an accident.
My parents had been in this country for only a couple years and they apparently forgot about their obligation to dress me up for Halloween. Not to be deterred, my mom scoured the house, looking for material to whip up a makeshift costume.
She ripped the bed sheet off the bed, somehow found a sombrero and…Voila! I was a Mexican for Halloween 1988.
Happy Halloween amigos!