My internal debate rages: Rake it all up or set the lawn on fire?
Oh, yes, it’s fall and the frost is on the pumpkin. No, I don’t know what that damn cliché is all about either. I live in Oakland, California, and I think the last time I saw frost on a pumpkin was the time my crazy-ass lab mate dunked one of those mini pumpkins in liquid nitrogen. I don’t think that counts as frost, exactly, but you get the general idea.
I like fall, but I have to say that there’s one thing I fail to wax enthusiastic about: Halloween. There, I said it and it’s out in the open. I don’t care about Halloween. Now, for those of you living outside America, Halloween is a holiday where we all get ho’d out in the sleaziest costume we can fit in, go to parties to get trashed in said costumes and then beg our neighbors for candy. It has ancient origins that nobody in this country knows or cares about. It’s all about the costume. Really, I know people who take a year to plan for this.
Halloween isn’t a bank holiday or national holiday, so you can always visit the bank to get money out and buy all your candy, costumes and decorations. Oh yes, people decorate. In fact, some people go overboard:
Yep, let’s just take everything too seriously, shall we?
I don’t decorate for Halloween. I am the resident Scrooge, and therefore don’t feel the need to decorate for any holiday. I don’t own any Halloween decorations at all, and I still haven’t found the Christmas decorations from the last four moves. I’m sure you’re all jumping onto the “just try to show a little spirit” bandwagon by now. Too bad, I’m still not putting forth an effort. I refuse. My neighbor tried to politely address this issue a few days ago. I told him to forget about it. What am I supposed to do? Carve a pumpkin? First of all, I have as much artistic talent as the average house plant and second of all, the arthritis practically guarantees I would lose a finger. Of course, arterial spray is kind of in the spirit of the season, so I’m sure my neighbors would find my eventual dismemberment socially acceptable.
This just isn’t going to happen in my house. I bet the person who carved this had just enough time to light the candles before heading out to the hospital emergency room.
I don’t decorate the inside of the house either. Forget it. I won’t bring straw into my house, those damn pumpkins start to rot and stink after about a week and I sure as hell don’t want to trip over the electrical cords associated with the average string of lights. Even if you manage to overcome the pitfalls of decaying décor, you still have to clean it all up on November first, if for no other reason than to start dragging Christmas decorations out.
A Halloween tree? Seriously? Now I KNOW Martin Luther wouldn’t approve. Besides, that’s just lame. It’s actual zombies or nothing in my house.
Actually, I’m being a bit hypocritical at this point. Through no fault of my own, and by entirely natural means, fate has conspired to get my house into the spirit. Here, check this out.
Do you see that? Little bastard just built his house spanning the entire front walk way.
Here, let me zoom in a little bit so you can see who took up residence just in time for Halloween:
Well, I hope you plan on contributing to your part of the rent, pal.
He’s ( I can’t assume it’s a “he,” but I’ll refer to it as a “he” for the ease of administration.) a very industrious spider who managed to build a fine, crystalline web across the entire expanse of the walkway/awning in front of my door. He’s commandeered the rose bushes and is so large he’s clearly visible from the front door. I don’t mind, after all, it’s nature and it will happen whether I take issue with it or not. Besides, even if I knock it down, he’ll just be back tomorrow anyway. I’ve lost battles with them before, and now I just live and let be my pathetic Halloween decoration.
There he is just chillin’ in front of the door. I wonder what the neighbors will have to say about that. Too bad I can’t train him to attack the shit out of the asshole neighbor who keeps smoking in front of my house and using my planters as an ashtray.
I really should invest in some decorations with more style. I saw this on Google, and I need to point out that if I tried this, I’d be in hospital right now.
Now that’s some fucking style right there, stench and all.
I’m not that industrious. So don’t bother me about the sorry state of my house, because it will fall on indifferent ears. Don’t try to convert me either, you’ll always find a lack of “spirit” and enthusiasm here. Bah humbug! Oh, and I don’t care if you are in your 40’s; get off my lawn you little shit! Hmmph.