Not that I care. The ‘rents took me trick or treating a couple of times, but by the time I was old enough to pick out my own costume, I lost interest. I usually ended up staying home because it was cold and other kids would be out there. For dread! Plus, mom always had Halloween candy and I didn’t have to bother. It’s trying enough to master being myself without having to think about pretending to be someone else, even for a day. People have looked at me funny my entire life, so I suppose every day is like Halloween for me.
This one takes me back to my dental lab days. My boss had to go out of town for a week or two and brought in someone who could do his part of the work. This stand-in guy, let’s call him Slick, was from a lab in another city, and was good at what he did. My boss warned me before he left that Slick was a handful. And it turned out, he was also a dark irish scorpio. Uh-oh. He was 33, I was 20. When we were first introduced, he stood there grinning at me with a very mischievous look in his eye. He decided I was “cute as a bug’s ear”, and he wasn’t too bad, either. I suspected he was jazzed up on something illegal, but he still managed to exceed expectations, production wise. Finished those metals at the high speed lathe, built those porcelains, ran that micromotor while listening to Ministry and other industrial goodies on his headphones. I didn’t get as much done because I was going ga-ga over his CD collection and watching him bounce off the walls. My favorite pick in his collection was Ministry’s 12 Inch Singles 1981-1984. I remember him singing “bop-mm-bop-bop” along with Halloween while pulling my plaster molds out of the impressions at the sink.
This is how I remember it – I didn’t want to date Slick because I had already briefly dated a 33 year old (also on goofballs of some sort) and decided I was too young, and frankly too decent, to be dating 33 year old men on goofballs. But after days of half-heartedly fending off his advances, I finally agreed to lunch or something… and he stood me up. Later that evening I opened the front door to find a dozen fresh, beautiful roses in the middle of the porch. The reason he gave for his no-show was not entirely believable and though all was forgiven, I wouldn’t agree to reschedule… then he went back to wherever he came from and I never saw him again.
I love music. There’s a story for every album or song I’ve fallen in love with, and there are many. I’m always on the hunt for something new and interesting! Share your current favorites if you want.
To whom it may concern: I want a hairless cat, like, real bad. Not right now, I already have three cats, and when you have three cats, the only number of cats better than three cats is zero cats. Meanwhile, I just save photos of them on my computer. Sméagol has been on my hard drive for at least 10 years now. The fact that they got him to hold still long enough to get that outfit on him, let alone take his picture, is nothing short of miraculous. But. I’ve heard some pretty nasty rumors about sphinx cats – mainly that they’re greasy and allergic to other cats and have to wear sweaters all the time and you can’t let them hang out in front of the window or they’ll get sunburned. That sounds a lot like me, except for the greasy and allergic part. I love their gnarly little faces and their big glittery eyes! What say you, sphinx cat owners? Have the reports of their hothouse flower’ness been greatly exaggerated? Or should I just shave Nelson? I have some old Sunbeam clippers begging to be put to good use… maybe I’ll shave him anyway, that sounds like loads of fun.
Mom and I are going to a bead show today and we’ll be turning off the lights once the sun goes down, gladly eating our sandwiches or whatever in the dark so as not to have to deal with the small shrill people. Although around here, we’re much more likely to encounter some rabid guy begging for pocket change.
Have fun, don’t choke on your bit-o-honeys!