This Charming Man

I adore Kevin Spacey. I think he's a really great actor. American Beauty is one of my all-time favorite movies. When he is masturbating in the shower and his voice over says, "This will be the highlight of my day," I feel his frustration and anger and sadness all at once. He was fabulous in se7en; scared the crap out of me. Even his voice work in "A Bug's Life" was brilliant. He has made some really crappy movies too...KPax anyone? It was an interesting premise, so I can see why he might have thought, "Well, this could be really interesting," but it was utter crap. And how about "Pay It Forward"? I read the book recently (A friend lent it to me. In her defense, she did warn me it wasn't the greatest book, but I wasted a good 2 hours reading the crappy thing. I will never get those 2 hours back.) and I am telling you it was horrible and stupid. By the end of the book you were hoping for some gratuitous violence or something, which did happen. The little boy, who was the main character (who thought that if someone did something nice for you then you should go out and do something nice for someone else...not rocket science. Churches have been saying that for years...but in the fictional world of this retarded book, this kid's idea revolutionized the world. Give me a break; in the real world that simplistic idea wouldn't even get the kid on Oprah, and she loves that kind of shit.) anyway...where was I? Oh, the little boy gets shot and killed at the end of the book. Even though I feel slightly guilty saying this, I was kind-of like, "Yippee! That kid was a pain in my ass!" It was a fictional character, give me a break.

Anyway, I have to assume Kevin Spacey read the stupid book before he made the movie. Now I have always assumed Kevin was a bright man, but if he really thought the book would translate into a fabulous movie, then I now assume he is a moron. Plus, the character he plays in the stupid movie (which also stars Helen Hunt, as you can see from the picture. She bugs me. Her idea of acting is putting on a "serious face" and squinching up her eyes. Barf!) is a black man in the book. Not that the color of a man's skin makes any difference as far as their acting ability or whatever, but in the book the fact that he was black was pretty important to the story line. Without that little distinction his character is even lamer! How did Kevin figure he could overcome that little hurdle?

However, this is not even my point (can you believe I have a point?) about Kevin Spacey. My point is that I pretty much respect him as an actor. Let me remind you again of his brilliant work in "American Beauty" and "L.A. Confidential" or even "A Time To Kill"!! Okay. This Christmas you can see him in "Fred Claus".What the...?!?! Even the trailers (which are supposed to show the best parts of any given movie) are bad. Didn't anyone ever tell Kevin NEVER to be in a movie starring frickin' SANTA? That just reeks of stupid-career-move. The man has 2 Oscars, for crying out loud, and now he is in a movie with SANTA? And just look at the lame "I'm the serious actor in a Christmas movie" glasses he is wearing in the photo. I am so disappointed.I hope he got paid well, because I have read some of the reviews of this movie and, well...let's just say, it's no "Elf".

Panic!

You know when the perfect time is to tackle a major project, such as cleaning out a huge drawer full of 5 years worth of "I have no idea where to put this so I'm throwing it into this huge drawer" crap? Well, in my mind it's the day before friggin' Thanksgiving when you have a 15 pound turkey thawing in the meat drawer and 15 different side dishes to chop stuff up for and a bathroom in desperate need of a cleaning. What the hell...I'm going to clean out the drawer full of shit I've been avoiding for FIVE YEARS!

Tony tried to help me at one point but he didn't like my system. I was taking things out one at a time, assessing it carefully and then placing it in a pile of like items or throwing it away. For example, I had a bunch of "Pirates of the Caribbean" stickers and I had to decide whether they were worth keeping. Honestly, I only really wanted the ones of Johnny Depp, but each sheet of stickers had some of Kiera Knightly (Who really bugs me...I think it's her teeth. She looks like a piranha. So does Sigorney Weaver. She bugs me too.)and Orlando Bloom who I could care less about.

Okay, so were there enough stickers of Johnny Depp to make it worth my while to keep them? Also, what in the world am I going to do with a bunch of Johnny Depp stickers? Not being a 12 year old, I don't have a notebook to put them on. Brenna wouldn't ever stick them on her notebooks because, "Mom...he's so, so, so old!" So what exactly is their perceived value? This is my process.

Tony just wanted to chuck them in the sticker pile with nary a thought. Oh no, you drawer sorting novice! It has to take a maddeningly long time to decide what to do with each item! Then you have to arrange all your piles in order of importance! Then you have to tire of the project and have a beautifully empty drawer, but a bunch of stupid-ass piles all over the couch. That's the way to sort, dammit!

Anyway, there were a ton of photos in the drawer as well and, as any good sorter knows, you have to spend a really long time looking at each one and talking about when it was taken and then argue about when it was taken and then decide you really can't remember when it was taken, etc. Well, I came across a couple of pictures and they reminded me of a really, really great story. Actually, it makes me look like a lunatic, but I'm willing to expose my crazy side.

Okay, first of all, let me concede this point: I am NOT a morning person. Everyone who knows me understands that. However, my children still like to push the envelope once in a while on the occasional morning. Unfortunately, they always seem to pick a morning that we are out of half and half for my coffee, the dogs come in with muddy paws and I have my period. It's like they just like to live on the edge.

So, this particular morning (a few years ago) Brenna decided that she hated all her clothes. Her bus was going to come in 15 minutes and she was sitting on her bedroom floor in her underwear with her arms around her legs and rocking back and forth. I went in her room to see why she wasn't brushing her teeth yet and found her like that just rocking and staring at her armoire. I asked her what she was doing and she told me she had nothing to wear. Keep in mind that this child had an armoire filled with everything the Gap Kids had in her size. I decided to take the high road rather than lose my cool and give her the "Look at all these clothes! You have more clothes than your father and I do combined! Pick something out you ungrateful brat!" speech.

So I started to pull out clothes and show them to her saying, "How about this? You look great in this!" and she would look at the clothes and then at me like, "What are you talking about you idiot?" I finally pulled out a pair of pants and tossed them to her with a "Just put these on, you're going to be late," and she just calmly said, "I hate those pants and I will never wear them." I knew that wasn't true...she was just trying to get a rise out me. Well, guess what? That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I picked up the pants held them with one leg in each hand and said, "Oh yea? Well, then you won't mind if I do this?!?" and I pulled the legs as hard as I could in an attempt to rip them.

Let me tell you, denim is a tough fabric to tear and no matter how hard I tried to rip those stupid jeans I couldn't do it. She yelled, "Don't!" but I was so determined to rip those damn jeans at this point I was red in the face. I think I finally ripped off a belt loop when Brenna finally grabbed them out of my hands. She started to put them on and I left her room saying, "You better brush your teeth because if you don't hurry you are going to miss the bus and I am NOT driving you to school; you can walk."

I went in the bedroom to calm down and heard her walk in the bathroom. I went out in the hall and looked in the open bathroom door. She was getting ready to brush her teeth and I heard her mutter something like, "I hate these stupid jeans..." I asked, "What did you say?" and she just sighed and didn't look at me while she began to brush her teeth. As I stood there, silent (again, deciding to take the high road) she did the one thing I cannot tolerate. She slammed the bathroom door. In my face. Okay, you might as well just say, "Screw you, bitch!" because that is what you really mean when you slam a door on someone, right? I turned around and screamed, "Don't you EVER slam a door on me!" and I lifted up my leg and prepared to kick the fucking door down because I was so pissed off.
As I'm readying my best "Cagney and Lacey gonna bust down the door" kick, my darling Tony came walking out of the kitchen, glanced up the stairs and yelled, "Don't do it! I can't fix that!!" (He is not a handyman under the best of circumstances...what would he have done with a door, off the hinges and with a big foot-sized hole in it? We would have had to move.)

Well, thank GOD for the voice of reason. I didn't kick down the door (Which would have been stupid anyway. It wasn't even locked.) I just violently opened the door to find Brenna cowering on the floor because she knew she was in big-ass trouble. I don't even know what I yelled at her at this point. I just went downstairs and looked at Tony and said, "You are going to be late for work because I am going for a walk," and I left. I walked all the way down to the baseball field at the end of our street and I sat on the bench shaking. I was so mad at Brenna, but I was mostly mad at myself. I had lost my temper with a child. Yes, she was being unreasonable, but I was the grown-up and I loved her so much. I couldn't believe I had left her crying on the bathroom floor. So, I got up, crying, and I started home. As I got closer I could see her bus pulling up. I started to run and got to the house just in time to see her tear streaked face staring at me out the back window of the bus. Seriously. I felt like such a shitty, bitchy mother.

So, I grabbed Bronte (who was a toddler at the time) and I got in the car and drove to my friend B's house. She has 4 kids and once, notoriously, got so mad at one of them she duct taped him to the wall. I knew she would make me feel better. I rang her bell and I took one look at her and started to cry. I sobbed, "I'm the worst mom, EVER!" She just put her arm around me and took me to the most comfortable room in the house...the screened-in porch with the full bar. She poured me a 7-up and vodka (it was about 9 a.m.) and I told her the whole story. I stayed there for a couple of hours and then I went home, feeling much better.

Ok...so here is the funny part. At about 10:30 that night Tony was getting ready to leave and go to the homeless shelter where he volunteered once a month. I was sitting downstairs watching t.v. and I heard Tony say (from upstairs) "Holy shit."

"What?" I asked.

Tony said, "You better come up and see."

Well, the front room of our house has a bank of 6 big windows which look out on our front yard. In our front yard is a tree and in that tree looking back at me was a 10-12 foot long, HUGE, red and yellow striped stuffed gecko. I looked at Tony and said, "What the hell is that?" Tony was kind of laughing and said, "I have no idea."

Well, I did NOT see the humor in this because it was about a year after 9/11 and terrorists were everywhere. I panicked. I looked at him and said, "Don't go out there! It's probably full of anthrax!" Tony was like, "Carolyn, really..." and I said, "Call the police! Maybe it's a bomb!" Tony said, "Calm down! It's a joke!" I countered with, "Terrorists flew airplanes into buildings! Who knows what this is?" There was a BIG pause and Tony said, "Right. Terrorists have the time to stuff a giant lizard with anthrax. AND I know we'd be a huge target. In Palatine, Illinois."

Okay, now I was feeling a little foolish...so I went outside and Tony took my picture in front of the tree with the gecko in it.
(Incidentally, we left it in the tree so the kids could see it in the morning. Bronte, who wasn't quite 2 years old at the time, took one look at it and said, "Holy crap!" Brenna had Tony take the thing out of the tree and she and Bronte carried it up and down the street laughing. Apparently it didn't cross their minds that it could have a bomb in it.)

So, how did the gecko get in my tree? Well, my friend B knew I was feeling really bad and she wanted to do something to cheer me up. So, she was driving around later that day with her 4 kids and she saw this 10 foot stuffed lizard in some one's garbage. Immediately she thought, "That's just the thing to cheer up Carolyn!" So she got her 4 kids (who were 2, 4, 7 and 8 years old at the time) out of the car and had them grab the gecko and shove it in the back of their Suburban. When it was just starting to get dark she put all 4 kids back in the car and drove to my house and they artfully arranged the gecko in my tree. Honestly, who the hell does something like that? And, she had all her kids with her. It was brilliant! It sounds crazy, but this is the same woman who asked me and Brenna to come over and help her toilet paper her own house to celebrate and surprise her son before his first football game when he was 8 years old.
In any case, when I found out that she had done this I waited an appropriate amount of time (I think it was almost a year) and we went and put the gecko in HER tree one evening. I think the gecko has been in about 5 trees around town since then.

What difference does it make?

Is it just me, or does Britney Spears just keep getting uglier? I know it's hard to be an alcoholic...but you'd think she would hire people to make sure she didn't go out in public looking like this. I mean, seriously...she makes Paris Hilton look classy. I don't know why I keep up with the whole Britney thing, except for the fact that I get updates on all the best celebrity gossip thanks to people.com, but I am just disgusted by the whole thing...I don't know why. Maybe it's because here is a girl with absolutely zero talent who was lucky enough to score some half-way decent dance tunes and became a wealthy talent-less star through some weird cosmic fluke. I would think she would be smart enough to hire some people to be sure she held on to it, right? Here is what she used to look like:

She wasn't the cutest girl I ever saw, but she looked pretty good. I never really saw the appeal and I can't stand the way she sings, but...okay. I can see her providing masturbation material for thousands of adolesent boys and a whole bunch of pedophiles, but I figured she would go away fairly quickly. However, that is also the way I felt about Madonna, so what do I know?
In any case, now she looks like this: Wow. Her mom must be so proud.
Here is another one of my favorites:

Gee. I sure hope she was drunk when she went out in public with this on. Could she not feel the breeze on her ass cheeks? Doesn't she have anyone in her entourage that could have said, "Put some damn pants on, woman! Your ass is hanging out!" Good thing her kids are too young to be aware of what a slutty moron their mother is. I bet Kevin Federline never thought he'd be thinking, "Boy, I got out just in time!" It just doesn't make any sense.

We hate it when our friends become successful

I recently heard from an old high school friend of mine. Well, actually I looked at his "My Space" page and left a comment which he then commented on etc. Anyway, in high school he was sort of an outcast...a loner, so to speak. (Sort of like Pee Wee Herman in Pee Wee's Big Adventure when he tells Dotty, "You don't want to get mixed up with a guy like me. I'm a loner, Dotty. A rebel." The thing Pee Wee forgot to mention to Dotty was that he was a porn theater masturbater too, but maybe that's what he meant by "loner". Makes sense. Incidentally, I have never been to or even SEEN a movie theater that shows porn, but can you imagine sitting in a seat in a porn theater? I mean, you would have to bring a plastic drop-cloth to sit on because who knows what kind of bodily fluids your butt might come in contact with if you didn't! Yikes! I have a friend who went on a "nude cruise" once. Yes, it is exactly what it sounds like...a bunch of naked people on a Carnival Cruise ship. Anyway, she said that you had to bring a towel with you to dinner because you couldn't sit on the dining room chairs without one. Okay...so I thought about that one for a little while...I assume that the chairs were upholstered, right? Think about what part of your ass would be in direct contact with the chair cushion and what it might leave behind...Is a towel REALLY adequate protection?)
Anyway, where was I? Oh, my high school friend, the loner. He didn't play sports, he didn't play an instrument, he wasn't in student government and he wasn't some sort of a brainiac. Let's put it in "Breakfast Club" terms...he wasn't jocky, like Emilio Estevez; he wasn't a dork, like Anthony Michael Hall; he wasn't a bad ass, like Judd Nelson (his character was totally my type in high school but I only dated guys from other schools so I wouldn't be distracted during school hours); and he wasn't rich enough to be Molly Ringwald...he was more like Ally Sheedy's character, only male and without dandruff. Rob (that's his name) had jet black hair that was all spiked on the top (it was the 80's, ok?) and totally white skin and he wanted to be a DJ. He drove an ancient Chevy Nova that you needed to have a pencil to get into. The car doors had handles that looked like this:

So, you grasp the handle and press your thumb on the button thing to open the door, right? Well, the button was gone on both handles, so you had to stick a pencil in the hole where the button used to be to pop the door open. Whenever we went anywhere he would say, "I'll drive, you bring the pencil." Did I mention that my mother absolutely hated Rob? He had a funny haircut and a crappy car that she was embarrassed to have parked in front of our house and his family lived on the wrong side of town and his brother's name was in the police reports once because he shot a gun at a passing car and didn't I know that I was going to be judged by the company I kept, blah, blah, blah. My mother wanted me to be friends with boys that were clean-cut and drove nice cars and played sports. I wanted to be friends with people who were bright and interesting and wanted to do more than drink beer and get blow jobs on Friday nights. I went on a date once with the cutest guy in my school...he was a wrestler. He picked me up, took me back to his house (his parents were gone) and wanted to know if I would suck his dick. I said no, so then he asked me to do his homework. I think I said something like, "Does this shit usually work?" and he said, "Well, yes..." As I recall I said something like, "You have got to be kidding me," and then I laughed and laughed. I also remember walking home. Great guy. I think he told everyone on the wrestling team that he nailed me and I was too disgusted by the entire thing to even fight back. Besides, at least it was the cutest guy in school lying about sleeping with me and not the ugliest guy in school. Right? Always look on the bright side of life. That was the one and only time I dated someone from my stupid high school.
One day I decided that Rob really needed a pair of Calvin Klein jeans (did I mention that this was in the 80's?) so we drove his Nova (did you know that No Va means doesn't go in Spanish?) to the local County Seat. The store was in a strip mall in our hometown and on the outside of the store, above the door were the words COUNTY SEAT in red 3-D lit-up letters. The letters stuck out like this:

except they were red. Get the picture?

Well, as Rob and I were walking into the store he was throwing his keys up in the air and catching them and we were laughing about how much my mother hated him. He was really bugged by it, though (I imagine it was because he had spent the bulk of his life being judged by his appearance and his brother's misdemeanors) and he kept throwing his keys up higher and higher. On his last toss before we were going to enter the store, Rob really whipped those keys up and we both watched them land in the middle of the 3-D letter "O" in the word COUNTY. Now, these letters were a good 15 feet above the ground, if not more. We both just stood there. I think Rob even mutely stuck his hand out, palm up, hoping the keys would just fall in it. Needless to say I started laughing. Rob just stood there staring at the "O". I was laughing so hard I was crying and I said, "What are you going to do?" Rob said, "I'm going to go buy some Calvin Klein jeans."

I don't remember if Rob got jeans that day, but I do know that the store manager had to call the fire department to come with the ladder truck

to get his keys out of the sign. It was hilarious. I, being the perverse person I am, couldn't wait to get home and tell my mother.
So, one day Rob was supposed to come and pick me up so we could go somewhere and my mom decided that she had just had it! She wasn't going to stand by and watch me hang out with someone fun and interesting! She wanted me to be popular and slutty! (I don't think that was her intention...but she did encourage me not to quit cheerleading when I was a senior...I did quit, by the way.) It was a beautiful day and the front door was open as Rob approached our house, keys and pencil in hand. Needless to say he heard everything my mother said. She said things like, "Why do you have to bring home all the strays?" and "You hang around with him so much because he hasn't got any other friends!" and all sorts of hurtful, terrible things. So, he turned around and walked away. We never went and did whatever it was we were going to do that day because he wouldn't even talk to me when I called.
The next day I got a delivery from FTD. It was a huge basket of flowers with a card that said, "Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday. I was busy hanging out with all my "friends". Love, Rob the Stray." My mom was so pissed off. I thought it was brilliant. I still do.
Later on Rob became a very successful DJ, then a program director (just like Andy Travis from WKRP in Cincinnati) and a stand-up comedian. He also found God, became born-again and told me Elton John was going straight to hell because he's gay...but that's another story. My mom has since apologized to me many times for being so hard on Rob. Even better, she has apologized to Rob. Born again or not, he couldn't help but tell her how well he'd done in his career and rub her nose in her judgemental-ness. Oh well, he knows God will forgive him.

I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now

Well...another Halloween come and gone and all we have to show for it are 2 pillowcases with about 20 pounds of candy in each. Now, whenever my kids tell me they are hungry I say, "Why don't you have a piece of Halloween candy?" no matter what time it is. Pretty soon there won't be anything left but Dots (who really buys those to hand out? They taste like crap) and those bags of Kiwanis peanuts that someone in our neighborhood always hands out.

This year my kids decided they wanted to dress up like Superheros. Bronte found a Spiderman costume at Costco in August and so Brenna decided she would be Superman and her friend J would be Batman and her friend G would be Robin (who is technically just a side-kick, not a real Superhero, but I wasn't going to point it out to her. Well, I might have, but only on Halloween when she was actually wearing the costume so she could walk around in SHAME all night. Just kidding. Really.) and Bronte's friend L was going to be Supergirl. Then they were all going to go trick-or-treating together. So far, so good, right? WRONG! By the time I actually got around to taking Brenna and her friend G shopping for their costumes (J and her mom had already gotten the Batman costume. J's mom is really efficient which just makes me mad because I look so lame in comparison. She's skinny too. Bitch.) there weren't any stupid Superhero costumes left. We went to a whole bunch of stores too, not just the Target around the corner. So, I bought them the next best thing to a Superhero costume....I bought them Ghostbuster costumes. I thought it was such a great idea, I bought Ghostbuster costumes for Tony and me too. (After all, there were 4 Ghostbusters) Brenna's friend, J, decided that she didn't want to be a Superhero anymore, so her mom made her a costume to go with ours. J was the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Yes, her mother MADE IT. See why I have a hard time liking her? Who has the time or the energy to MAKE costumes? When I was a kid, I was the same thing for Halloween every year; a princess. I wore a tiara, a long sparkly dress and makeup. Perfect! Then, when I was in 4th grade I discovered Elton John...so I dressed up like Elton John every year after that. I wore a tiara, a long sparkly dress and make-up! Perfect! I figured, "Why be a stupid princess when I can be a Queen?"
Okay, back to this Halloween...so, the kids went to school and Tony and I prepared ourselves for the day. Tony set up the fog machine, put the flying red-eyed bat on the basketball hoop, made sure the scary scarecrow was firmly attached to the tree with the giant spiderweb, prepared the sound-activated "rat in a trap" to go off every time a kid approached the door...and I went to the gym. Hey, a Ghostbuster needs to be buff. When I got back and showered, we put on our Ghostbuster costumes and went to Bronte's school to help with the party. Out of Bronte's entire first grade class, she was the only one who knew who we were supposed to be, because we, of course, allow our 6 year old to watch movies with scary ghosts and sexual undertones. WHATEVER! I helped the kids make homemade slime out of water, Borax and glue. (The teacher split the kids into groups of 4 and they went to different stations around the room. Slime was mine.) I told them all that they weren't to eat it or let their pets or siblings eat it either. Some kid asked me, "Can I let my brother lick it?" at which point I wondered why I thought it was a good idea to have first graders make slime. Of course they want to eat it! Especially after I told them not to. Tony was at the second most popular station (with mine being the first); the donut on a string station. At this station, there were chocolate cake donuts tied to a dowel rod on a long string. The kids had to put their hands behind their backs and kneel (prison-style) two at a time and try to eat the donut faster than the other kid. Tony told me afterward that there was one girl that had the longest tongue he'd ever seen. She literally stuck her tongue out, wrapped it around the donut and stuck it in her mouth. She's going to be very popular in high school.

After school we went back to the house and got ready for the real fun. My mom and dad came over to hand out candy so we could go trick-or-treating with the kids but not be the lame-o's of the neighborhood who isn't home on Halloween. You see, I don't care if my PARENTS are the lame-o's of their neighborhood, I only care about my own reputation. Brenna was ready to go in her Ghostbuster costume and her friend J was getting her Stay Puft costume on with the help of her mother. We were waiting for my dear friend to show up with her kids G and L who were going be the fourth Ghostbuster and Supergirl, respectively. Finally, once we had taken copious photos on the front lawn, we were all ready to go. Supergirl, Spiderman, the four Ghostbusters (because, of course Tony and I stayed in our costumes) and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man set off. My dear friend (the mother of G and L), I assumed, was going to come with us because I figured she'd want to see people's reactions to her kids in costume. However, she turned around and got in her car. I looked at her daughter, G, and said, "Where's your mom going?" and she said, "I don't know. She's probably going to follow us in the car, " and then she rolled her eyes. (She's 12, just like my sassy daughter. Her eyeballs are going to stick in permanent eye-roll mode just like Brenna's.) Well, sure enough, my pal was in her black BMW sports-utility vehicle inching along the curb right behind us.
From the sidewalk, I turned to her to ask her what the hell she was doing in the car when....suddenly...I heard something. Oh yes...my genius friend was BLASTING the Ghostbusters theme song from her Beemer. I almost wet my pants laughing. She yelled out (over the strains of "Who ya gonna call? GHOSTBUSTERS!") to me, "Are you surprised? I went on-line and bought it and I have it on this disc over and over!" I was laughing my ass off. I tried to tell her how awesome it was, but she kept yelling "WHAT?" because she had the volume up all the way and she couldn't hear me. So, I decided to show my appreciation through dance. I did The Lawnmower, The Funky Chicken and various versions of The Robot. She was laughing so hard she almost ran into a parked car. My neighbors probably all thought I was drunk. Tony and I danced (seriously...danced) all over the neighborhood to the Ghostbusters song for upwards of 2 hours. My friend inched along behind us, blasting the song and smoking cigarettes in her black BMW the entire time. Honestly, she is the best! Who else would have thought to do that? (I don't know why I was so surprised though. I mean, this is the same girl who, 13 years ago, gave me "the best water ever". Let me explain...we were both working as make-up artists for Lancome and we won some stupid contest and we got to go see "Miss Saigon" in Chicago. The downside of this, for both of us, was that we were going to have to go with the other stupid girls who won. Well, my friend decided to drive and I, of course, had to sit in the front seat. As we were speeding down the tollway into the city, she was drinking from a huge sippy cup thing. At one point she turned to me and said, "Here, have a drink." I said, "What is it?" She replied, "Water," and I said, "No thanks, I'm not thirsty." She said, "Have some!" and I said, "I'm not THIRSTY." She shoved it in my hands and said, "It's really good water." To appease her, I took a huge gulp. Big mistake. The cup was full of champagne.) I have never had more fun trick-or-treating in my life. I don't think my kids have either. At one point, Brenna got all of us Ghostbusters to do a fabulous line dance where we pretended to shoot her friend the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. It was great. I think my friend was mostly deaf for at least 2 hours afterwards judging from the way she yelled her entire conversation at the dinner table.
Next year, when we go trick-or-treating, we are definitely going to need a soundtrack again. It made it WAY more fun. Maybe we should go as John Travolta circa Saturday Night Fever and she could follow us blaring "Stayin' Alive". What do you think??