Skip to main content

Happy Halloween

 

Halloween is here, the one day of the year, where I can be strange on purpose. All the other days I'm strange accidentally, on purpose. I got to admit, I still enjoy looking and acting strange. -Sort of my persona. However, there have been times when I did step over the line I was trying to draw. Case in point; dressing in drag. -No thank you. I regret to inform you that it did happen once. Not on purpose. And if it wasn't funny, I could pass on the embarrassment, but I like a funny story, so I'll chance the blow to my ego. It was for a murder mystery. There was only one rule: Who you picked, was who you had to be. No questions asked. So, I stuck my hand in the hat and pulled out a blonde bombshell. I immediately broke the rules. I had questions. One was a mournful, why? The other was, who was going to dress me up?

Guinea pig make-over number one

I was a girl only once before when I was a youngster. No, I didn't go to school a boy and came home the same day a girl.  It was Halloween and I guess being a clown got old. That and I kept using my dad's black shoe polish to make a hobo beard and my sister kept stealing my clown nose. Not really, the nose is a inside joke. The shoe polish was no joke.  I was eight years old and no matter how many times I washed my face, I had a five o'clock shadow. So, my sister's thought they'd have some Halloween fun. Apparently, they were too old to play trick or treat, so they treated me to a guinea pig make-over. Truth be told, we didn't care how we looked; we got our reward: Cavities. Back then we didn't walk house to house, we ran. Our goal was to fill a pillowcase as fast as we could, drop it off, and run with another one to the next neighborhood. Back to dressing up 2.0

Guinea pig make-over number two

I pulled out a blonde bombshell. My then wife laughed and painstakingly created magic. It was back when I didn't have wrinkles or facial hair.  There I was wearing a blonde wig, all makeup, high heels, and grapefruits. Looking like a girl wasn't too hard. I remember going grocery shopping with my mother when I was a teenager. People would say to my mother how cute her little daughter was. She used to get so pissed. "That’s my son!" It was nothing new to me. I got teased in grade school and high school. Kids used to call me Denise instead of Denis.  I had my mother fill out the paperwork and send it to the government to change my name to Dennis with two N's. True story. Didn't matter; I still got teased. Back to the story.

My brother in-law has a favorite saying “self praise is no recommendation” I don't want to toot my horn, but I looked pretty good. He also has another go-to “don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story” I figure the truth with a little polishing up is okay. The truth is I had a few people doing a double take. The embellishment was thinking I was hot. The murder mystery was on and I was killing it. Luckily, I was knocked off in the opening scene. I was undressed and scrub clean within two minutes. 

 

Costumes

Over the years I have dressed up as Charlie Chaplin countless times, Groucho Marx, Inspector Clouseau, a cowboy, a hippie, impersonated a teacher and a supervisor and ate lunch in their lounges.

The candy man

My fondest Halloween memory is taking my niece and nephews out when they were younger. I'll never forget the youngest one complaining about all the walking. So, there was Uncle Denny with a kid on his shoulders. -We were trying to get sympathy bonus candy. He followed my instructions to a tee. When we get to the door yell "tired feet!" It worked like a charm. People laughed, smiled and dug a little deeper. Let's see, here’s one for you and one for me. The tradition continues today. Last year my partner and I went trick or treating with the grandson and we all dressed like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This year we will be skeletons. 

I'm glad kids use pumpkin pails today. I know one thing; there is no way I’m carrying a kid and a jammed packed pillowcase expecting to get rewarded for wearing an outfit and yelling “tired feet"

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Road Trips: Kejimkujik National Park and Historic Site

We bought a van and we did so for one reason: camping. Our first test would be at Jeremy's Bay Campground. Kejimkujik National park had many sites to choose from usually but because people were spending their hard earned money in Canada (boycotting America) we only had a few spots available. The van had stow n go seats so it gave us enough room for a couple roll out mattresses. Setting up camp was pretty simple a dinning tent a couple of chairs and a fire.  Luckily for us we were there a week before the fire ban. Things were great until it was time to sleep. There was a crying kid a few sites away who was always in trouble for something. His crying continued into the wee hours of the morning. I finally locked the doors and fell asleep. Then it was tinkle time. As I opened the door the ani-theft alarm started to blare and I couldn't turn the darn thing off. After a few minutes of frustration and yes, cussing, I got it to stop not before waking up the entire camp.   I try t...
Post a Comment
Read more

A pane in the glass

One pane of glass. One red, white and blue basketball. And one frustrating day in the window repair business.    My father was very good at repairing windows. He had plenty of practice. Our backyard was our arena, our stadium and the scene of many sporting errors.  Who done it? It all started on our one-lane road.  Every homeowner could hear the crack of the bat and then the smash of a ball. Where it came from, no one knew. We split, leaving the bat suspended just above the dust cloud. Not a kid in sight. Who done it was an unsolved mystery. All they could see was the weapon, the bat, the ball and the glass now littering the living room floor. Opps Things were different in our backyard. A wayward slapshot way upstairs. Crash. A change-up and a foul tip. Smash. Today's error: a basketball. A hook shot, nothing but air and glass. Bang. Shortly after the initial impact we heard something else, my father cuss "Friggin Kids" It was the only f word my dad was all...
Post a Comment
Read more

A note

A note to friend in Christ. I believe the house of God has many windows and many doors. Sometimes we walk in, sometimes we walk out. Sometimes we just walk away. But the windows are always open just enough to let a little light in. Sometimes we need to tip-toe and look inside once again. I looked in and there you were. I was surfing the net, to be truthful doom scrolling. Luckily, for me I saw Father James Martin SJ,  on Stephen Colbert. A spark ignited in me to share the following story. My partner is a practicing Catholic and he goes to church every Saturday night. I am more of an east meets west kind of guy. Imagine Jesus and Buddha at a bar.  I'm the bartender and I don't know who to serve first.  I have only been out since my sixtieth birthday. It was during the time of the pandemic. I was divorced and laid off. I could have easily spiraled out of control. The good news; I lost a job I hated, and I had time to write, think, walk and pray. I eventually sta...
Post a Comment
Read more