My Brief Time as a Cow

One of my very first memories is of Halloween one year when I was three or four.

I can't remember what my mother or brother dressed as, but I remember my father was wearing a flannel red shirt and fake monster teeth. He put them in before we left, turned to us and snarled, and my brother laughed while I screamed bloody murder, certain father had morphed into a child-eating monster.

My parents, either because they thought it was cute or because they wanted to make sure I had something to tell my therapist later, dressed me as a cow.



And, really, I loved my outfit. I didn't understand that I was supposed to moo, or act like a cow, all I understood was that I got to carry a bell around my neck and it made music when I stumbled around the room (I was not a very coordinated child)

It wasn't just any bell, either.
It was one of my fathers large Tibetan Prayer bells.

And it was used as a prop to make me look more bovine.



I loved everything about the costume. It was soft and felt, I was warm the entire night, and people thought I was the cutest thing ever born.

We went to an adult Halloween party at some sort of school gymnasium, and I spent hours being fawned over and cooed to, and given plenty of sugar.

After the adults tired of telling me what a cute little cow I was, I started wondering around, listening to my over-sized prayer bell ring as I galumphed through the party, trying not to run into people.

At some point, this became boring. I decided I wanted to go home and get out of my cow outfit now that no one found me cute anymore.

I looked up.
I saw plenty of adults in plenty of ridiculous costumes.
I couldn't see my mom.
I couldn't see my father.
I couldn't see my brother.



There's a moment in every little girls life when she suddenly realizes that she has no idea where her parents are.
I experienced this moment while surrounded by monsters, and dressed as a cow.





So I did what any responsible child would do.

I flung myself on the ground and threw the biggest temper tantrum imaginable.



They could hear me in Hong Kong.
I screamed and I wailed, and I put all my cow injustice into those tears.


I honestly can't remember if my parents came running to my rescue, drawn to my tortured screams.

I remember someone gave me a snickers bar, to calm me down.



It worked.

Halloweenies

Halloween is, without a question, my favorite holiday of all time.

Yes, I get presents on Christmas.
Yes, I get turkey on Thanksgiving.
But Halloween is the ONLY holiday where you get to dress like an idiot and you get free candy.


I've loved this holiday ever since I was old enough to walk and my parents smooshed me into a rotund felt pumpkin monstrosity.



(And, yes, I was born with blond hair.)

I loved Halloween when I was a geeky child who dressed as a ballerina and was so nearsighted I couldn't find my way to front doors without my brother helping me.



And I even loved Halloween when I was a chubby, pimply and social awkward teenager who dressed as a witch



There are very few things I love as much as I love Halloween.

And, you know what? I still love Halloween.
For two very important reasons:

1. The Candy




2. The Bad Jokes

Bad jokes are like oxygen in my household: We cannot live without them.
And Halloween is the best holiday for horrible puns.

So, in celebration of my favorite holiday, I present you with what will hopefully be the corniest jokes I'll ever tell you.

Happy Halloween, everyone.

1.
Zombie:



Zom-bee:



2.

Witch-Craft:



Witch-Arts-And-Crafts:



3.

Vampire Bat:



Vampire Baseball Bat:



4.

The Bride of Frankenstein:



The Second Cousin of Frankenstein:



5

Jack-O-Lantern:



Jill-O-Lantern:



6.

Grim Reaper:



Not-so-Grim-Reaper:

Werewolf Spiders

Wolf Spider:



Werewolf Spider:

The Night Vampires Taped Me Sleeping

I love bedtime.

When I was a kid, I took bed time for granted. I screamed, and I begged, and I pleaded to stay up just a little longer.

(This worked, by the way. I probably had the latest bed time of any child my age. I specifically remember my brother and me begging my father to let us stay up just one more hour to watch a Beavis and Butthead episode where Beavis cut off his finger with an chain saw. That was the actual reason we gave.
Father gave us permission to stay up and watch it.
Though, I think he regretted this parental decision later when Carter cut off the tip of his finger with an electric hedge trimmer only a few weeks later).

Now, like every true Adult, I look forward to bed time.



Bed time is happy time. It's cuddle-in-the-covers time. It's oh-ma-gosh-my-feet-are-so-toasty time.

A few nights ago, I happily got into my night shirt, wrapped myself in a cocoon of covers, and started to slip of into dream land.



When I heard a strange, electronic noise in my room.

It sounded like a computer trying to read a CD.



'The fuck?', I thought.
And then I remembered the brand new external hard drive I bought and moved into my room.
I figured it must have an internal fan that switched on when I was dosing off.

I have no patience when my bed time is interrupted.




Problem solved, I poured myself back into bed...



12:40am:



'Oh, HELL NO'

The computer. It HAS to be my computer...





Crisis averted!



1:20am:



At this point, I pretty much lost it.



I turned off every thing I could find.

My TV.



My collection of knock off mp3 and media players from Cambodia.



It didn't help.

2:40am:



3:40am:



4:40am:



5:40am:



Around 6am I was convinced someone had planted a recording device somewhere in my room to watch me sleep, and that's what was making so much noise.
Who had planted it?
Vampires, of course.

I owe this theory to three things:

1) My intense fear that people are watching me

2) Sleep-deprivation induced psychosis

3) The True Blood marathon I had just finished watching before bed



At 7am my alarm went off, and I had to get up.
I'd probably had a total of 10 minutes REM sleep, and 7 hours of psychotic panic.

I could barely function.
And I couldn't remember how to get ready.





At work I was useless.
I just slumped over my desk and stared at people, wondering whether they were secretly vampiric voyeurs.








Later, we found out no vampires were involved at all.
An extensive search revealed nothing.
We tore my room apart, and found no source of the noise.

Frustrated, and confused, we ate dinner and went to bed.
The noise was gone.

Two days later, after accidentally leaving our washing in the washing machine, we figured out where the noise came from...