Today at work I was asked about a thousand times what I was for Halloween...and then scolded about a thousand times for not dressing up AND for not going out. I'm sorry, I thought at 30 my Halloween responsibilities were temporarily on hold until my own children throw a sheet over their heads and head out for their own personal sugar overdose. Apparently, not.
Okay, I will admit I do love Halloween. I mean who doesn't love all the good times. For example, while I was growing up I got to experience some amazing Mom-made costumes:
1. "Tourist" (This consisted of me putting a Hawaiian shirt on and camera around my neck)
2. "Plumber" (Yep, I got to carry around a plunger)
3. "A Camper" (This one was actually sort of practical. All night I carried around a canteen and a metal pack. I was hydrated and I had room for my candy)
When I got to college Halloween became my favorite day of the year. (Mostly because I could act drunk all night and wear my retainers - it was sort of a dream come true.) No seriously, things were going really well with costumes until my senior year. As a class, we decided to be rappers or gangsters. (Honestly, after growing up in Chadds Ford I'm not sure what's the difference, but I have seen Yo MTV Raps so I was down with the hood.) Anyway, that night I dressed in baggy pants, a basketball jersey and put a cap on backwards. I then got some fake tattoos on my arms and carried a toy gun in my waist (just in case someone wanted to mess with me) and headed out. As I was dancing with my friends an African American walked up to me, not in a costume but suspiciously looking like me, and asked, "What are you supposed to be?" After, looking around for the exits, I sheepishly said, "Well fine sir, I suppose I'm supposed to be...you." Yes, to answer your next question, it was incredibly awkward.