Yo ho, mateys. Good to see you back again for some UOPTA action. 'Tis Tuesday, or as I like to call it, The Day of Tue. I guess that would then be written as Tue'sday, and my spellchecker hates that with a passion.
By a show of hands, how many of you know that tomorrow is Halloween? Wow, that's pretty much all of you. Great, thank you for your participation. Since I'm hyper-punctual and can't help being early in many respects, today won't be any different. I'm going to write about Halloween and costumes. If you simply can't handle that today, please feel free to check back here tomorrow and get a double dose of my thoughts.
Growing up, my favorite brother and I had some pretty kick-ass costumes. We got to be super heroes when Halloween rolled around, and that wasn't something to be taken lightly. The candy part never lived up to the hype for me. It was fun getting some, but I could always count on having half of my bounty still hanging around in a cupboard come Valentine's Day. The costumes were way more fun. (Go ahead, I can hear the "Peter likes to play dress up" comments already. Knock yourselves out.)
By a show of hands, how many of you know that tomorrow is Halloween? Wow, that's pretty much all of you. Great, thank you for your participation. Since I'm hyper-punctual and can't help being early in many respects, today won't be any different. I'm going to write about Halloween and costumes. If you simply can't handle that today, please feel free to check back here tomorrow and get a double dose of my thoughts.
Growing up, my favorite brother and I had some pretty kick-ass costumes. We got to be super heroes when Halloween rolled around, and that wasn't something to be taken lightly. The candy part never lived up to the hype for me. It was fun getting some, but I could always count on having half of my bounty still hanging around in a cupboard come Valentine's Day. The costumes were way more fun. (Go ahead, I can hear the "Peter likes to play dress up" comments already. Knock yourselves out.)
As the years went by, I couldn't always be too creative with my costumes. I remember being a football player once in high school, which really just amounted to a jersey and black stuff under my eyes. That year, I was totally upstaged by Dusty who poked his head through a hole in a trash bag and donned a sailor's cap. "I'm Captain Condom," he proudly told every parent who begrudgingly opened the door for teenagers.
Years before, my parents, brother, and I went to a Halloween party at the Levines' place as a family of nerds. And by "nerds," I mean "ridiculously big nerds." Ugly Hawaiian shirts, bad glasses with tape around the middle, zinc oxide on our noses, and our best impressions of the dorkiest people we'd ever met. While we were a hit, part of me thought that maybe it came too easily for us. The biggest shock of the evening came near the end though. That's when I found out that the cool girl I'd been talking to for a while was one of Greg's guy friends in drag for the night. We were only around ten years old, so it's not like I wanted to date him or anything. I'd wondered where "her" costume was, but it never occurred to me that she was a he. Good costume, I guess.
One of the most fortuitous costumes I wore was on the Halloween of 8th grade. It was pretty simple really, but it worked wonders. I had the Phantom of the Opera half-face mask, an accompanying hat, and a black cape. Nothing too inspired, right? Well, here's what happened: I was at a party with some friends, and admittedly, we weren't a part of the super-popular crowd. After playing some games and having a good time, the dozen or so of us went out to walk the streets. After a few minutes, we ran into the kids we all hated: the "cool" kids.
There's a big difference between cool and "cool," and these were definitely the latter. They would brag about their high school friends, talk about smoking cigarettes, and somehow date the hottest girls. Man I hated them. There they were, dressed only in black and with a carton of eggs. Hmmm, what could they be doing? Their leader made some comment to the others about us, and something happened. It must have been the power of the mask, because I spoke up. Before then, I'd never really said a word to these people. This time though, I called the leader an asshole. He paused for a second, then asked, "Who's under there?" "None of your business," I said, amazed that he couldn't tell. (In hindsight, he'd probably just never noticed that I existed before.) "Jason, who is that?" he asked my friend standing near me. "Don't say anything," I said. The asshole gave me one long look, then he and his crew turned and left. I felt amazingly cool, and the high-fives from my fellow middle-of-the-social-class dwellers confirmed it.
The next school day, I hesitated to sit in my English seat near the asshole. He never said a word about it for the rest of the year. Come to think of it, he really didn't say anything at all to me the rest of the year. Fine by me.
My other costumes since then have been generally tame. I've probably only dressed up at all five times in the past ten years. Among those, I've been "Cowboy With Ill-Fitting Attire" and "Pimp Magically Teleported from the 70s." That one was fun, because I had my fro going and some serious gold-chain-over-chest-hair action. Very nice.
The favorite in the past five years has to be one that came out of nowhere. My lovely wife was living with our friend Melissa (who is a Halloween freak), and they were having a party. I got there without a costume, and Melissa found that totally unacceptable. She looked through her impressive collection of Halloween attire and said, "Here!" as she thrust something in my hand. It was a Death costume, complete with an enclosed black hood for maximum creepiness.
Amber and I went to her room for a minute, and I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to do that or not. "I don't even know what shoes to wear," I told her. "I mean, I could wear these slippers I guess." Then it hit me. I walked over to a corner of her room and grabbed a beach hat, threw it over my hood, then stepped into the slippers. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I'm Death Takes a Holiday!" I announced triumphantly.
It worked well throughout the night, and being amongst grad students, they appreciated it more than I think the typical group might've. (After all, Melissa and I think taking turns reciting lines of Jabberwocky counts as a good time.) I got several laughs, and then saw those people pointing me out to others. Ah, the worst laid plans of mice and men.
Ok, gentle readers. Have a good Tue'sday, and we'll meet back here tomorrow, ok? But first, you have homework. I'd love to hear what your favorite costumes have been through the years. Don't be shy. Ok, you can be shy, but expand your comfort zone and post a comment. I know for a fact that you were all children once, and many of you were even teenagers. See you tomorrow. Shaloha.
Years before, my parents, brother, and I went to a Halloween party at the Levines' place as a family of nerds. And by "nerds," I mean "ridiculously big nerds." Ugly Hawaiian shirts, bad glasses with tape around the middle, zinc oxide on our noses, and our best impressions of the dorkiest people we'd ever met. While we were a hit, part of me thought that maybe it came too easily for us. The biggest shock of the evening came near the end though. That's when I found out that the cool girl I'd been talking to for a while was one of Greg's guy friends in drag for the night. We were only around ten years old, so it's not like I wanted to date him or anything. I'd wondered where "her" costume was, but it never occurred to me that she was a he. Good costume, I guess.
One of the most fortuitous costumes I wore was on the Halloween of 8th grade. It was pretty simple really, but it worked wonders. I had the Phantom of the Opera half-face mask, an accompanying hat, and a black cape. Nothing too inspired, right? Well, here's what happened: I was at a party with some friends, and admittedly, we weren't a part of the super-popular crowd. After playing some games and having a good time, the dozen or so of us went out to walk the streets. After a few minutes, we ran into the kids we all hated: the "cool" kids.
There's a big difference between cool and "cool," and these were definitely the latter. They would brag about their high school friends, talk about smoking cigarettes, and somehow date the hottest girls. Man I hated them. There they were, dressed only in black and with a carton of eggs. Hmmm, what could they be doing? Their leader made some comment to the others about us, and something happened. It must have been the power of the mask, because I spoke up. Before then, I'd never really said a word to these people. This time though, I called the leader an asshole. He paused for a second, then asked, "Who's under there?" "None of your business," I said, amazed that he couldn't tell. (In hindsight, he'd probably just never noticed that I existed before.) "Jason, who is that?" he asked my friend standing near me. "Don't say anything," I said. The asshole gave me one long look, then he and his crew turned and left. I felt amazingly cool, and the high-fives from my fellow middle-of-the-social-class dwellers confirmed it.
The next school day, I hesitated to sit in my English seat near the asshole. He never said a word about it for the rest of the year. Come to think of it, he really didn't say anything at all to me the rest of the year. Fine by me.
My other costumes since then have been generally tame. I've probably only dressed up at all five times in the past ten years. Among those, I've been "Cowboy With Ill-Fitting Attire" and "Pimp Magically Teleported from the 70s." That one was fun, because I had my fro going and some serious gold-chain-over-chest-hair action. Very nice.
The favorite in the past five years has to be one that came out of nowhere. My lovely wife was living with our friend Melissa (who is a Halloween freak), and they were having a party. I got there without a costume, and Melissa found that totally unacceptable. She looked through her impressive collection of Halloween attire and said, "Here!" as she thrust something in my hand. It was a Death costume, complete with an enclosed black hood for maximum creepiness.
Amber and I went to her room for a minute, and I said I wasn't sure if I wanted to do that or not. "I don't even know what shoes to wear," I told her. "I mean, I could wear these slippers I guess." Then it hit me. I walked over to a corner of her room and grabbed a beach hat, threw it over my hood, then stepped into the slippers. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I'm Death Takes a Holiday!" I announced triumphantly.
It worked well throughout the night, and being amongst grad students, they appreciated it more than I think the typical group might've. (After all, Melissa and I think taking turns reciting lines of Jabberwocky counts as a good time.) I got several laughs, and then saw those people pointing me out to others. Ah, the worst laid plans of mice and men.
Ok, gentle readers. Have a good Tue'sday, and we'll meet back here tomorrow, ok? But first, you have homework. I'd love to hear what your favorite costumes have been through the years. Don't be shy. Ok, you can be shy, but expand your comfort zone and post a comment. I know for a fact that you were all children once, and many of you were even teenagers. See you tomorrow. Shaloha.
6 comments:
It seems I was always a male character for Halloween in my youth. I have been Davey Crockett, a cowboy (no, not a cowgirl), and a very fine Zorro. Fortunately, I eventually settled my sexual identity issues.
When I was in elementary school I got a poodle skirt for a girl scout event. And I think that skirt has accounted for almost all of my Halloween costumes since then. Amazingly, it might even still fit me (I'm not freakishly small, it was way too big when I was 8)... So much for creativity in costumes...
The only costume I can remember was Cinderella. I was about 5 years old. The reason I remember was becasue my mother made me wear a sweater over it. I was very upset as Cinderella never wore a sweater no matter how cold it got. I can't remember any childhood costumes after that one. It must have scarred my psyche.
Sophomore year at UCSB, my roommates and I decided to dress up as different animals and go out together as "the zoo." We got our guy friends to get in on the fun as well, except that one of them found a cheap monkey costume at Costco and then they all decided to be monkeys, so we were a peacock (me..favorite costume I looked rad), an alligator, a zebra, a flamingo, a cow (one roommate kind of misunderstood the assignment), and 6 monkeys.
When I was in my early 30's I went to a halloween party in a dress and a long blonde wig. I borrowed the dress, (a size 18 or 20) from a cousin (a big girl). The host of the party answered the door and my wife stayed hidden. Even though it was a halloween party, he said, "yes, can I help you"? He didn't recognize me or notice my mustache. I was a big, ugly woman for the first and last time that night.
I am more than happy to be known as a Halloween Freak.
(Much better than being known simply as a Freak)
And your Death Takes a Holiday costume was wonderful. And reassuring.
Oh, and Happy Halloween!
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