Fear does not exist in this dojo

On my list of favorite, overly commercialized, sugary, non-holidays, meant to scare children and encourage begging, Halloween doesn't really rank that high. (And if you think that Halloween is the only holiday where that sort of behavior is appropriate, you've obviously never been a chubby, teenage girl on Valentine's day.) I am not really into scary movies or gore. I know that the call is coming from inside the house, yadda, yadda, yadda. I don't have any particular reason for my blazeh attitude. Most of the "meh" comes from the fact that, on Halloween, I am charged with corralling sugar fueled, scantily clad teenagers all the live long day. By the time trick or treating comes around, I would rather stab out my own eyes than get up off the couch every 30 seconds and fake that some strange kid, who I have no genetic link to whatsoever, is "The cutest little princess ever!" When in reality, it is the exact same princess that has magically appeared from CVS six times already.

Being that most people will use any excuse imaginable to whore things up in the wardrobe department, I've pretty much washed my hands of the hope for a creative and clever Halloween. Whatever. I can't really throw that stone from my glass house.

Apparently I was down with Slut-o-ween circa 1986. Really mom? A garter? On an 8 year old?

I don't think store bought costumes are fun, interesting, or worthy of praise. Most are fairly inane. I miss the days of dreaming up an awesome ensemble and then spending the entire month of October slaving away* to make the vision come true.

Exhibit A:

It's hard to pull your eyes away from all this awesome, right?

Enter October 30, 2009 - Day of Mischief. The day that students, young and old, dress up and act like fools regardless of the fact that All Hallows Eve is still 24 hours away.

Here is the play by play.

7:00 am- I arrived at work, waded through throngs of teenagers, and attempted to keep my eyes on the ground. I find it best not to make eye contact. That way I can plausibly avoid the fact that most of the girls are dressed as some slutty version of a Disney character that neither Walt, nor God, ever intended. The boys on the other hand, seem to be under the impression that eyeliner and a hoodie, or Scream masks are passable excuses for costuming.

7:04 am- One young man is standing perfectly still at the gates of the school. He is inside two cardboard boxes that are painted yellow and stacked on top of one another.

7:06 am- I am completely stumped as to what on Earth box boy might be and wonder what the hell kind of Cirque de Soleil, voo-doo, acrobatics will be required in order to fit into his tiny, immovable classroom desk.

7:07 am- I say a prayer in my heart, thank God that I don't recognize him and hopefully won't have to worry about his seating arrangements.

7:12 am- I realize that I don't have enough copies of the quiz for the day and frantically hustle up to the office to make more. En route, I notice another kid dressed in cardboard. This one, however, is painted blue and is just one big square.

7:13 am- "Hmmm. That's strange." And then I mentally chastize myself for passing judgement on kids who want to join in the Halloween fun but are obviously poor and can't afford a respectable slutty Snow White costume or mask.

7:17 am- In my head, I begin a rant about, "Kids these days. Pathetic! In my time, we were way more creative than a store bought stripper Cinderella! Halloween has lost all of it's charm..." In my heart, I secretly suspect that I was Cady Heron's zombie bride to Regina George's playmate.

7:25 am- The bell rings and I open the door to begin the chaos that is Halloween at a high school. Past me walks yet another kid dressed in a yellow, L shaped, cardboard box.

7:26 am- What in the hell is with all the freaking cardboard boxes?

10:05 am- I head across campus to grab a bag of chips. In the quad, a crowd of students part and like a vision from above, I realize the deal with all of the cardboard boxes. The three kids that I saw separately this morning are now walking together. Linked together....like this...

And with that, my faith in Halloween was restored. And I wished that I still had Wilma. That was a an awesome costume.

* Not so much ME slaving away, so much as watching my mother.