mardi gras in the big easy. carnival in rio. those i’ve yet to take in, but halloween in the castro -- that i can cross off my list. i’m much too much of a zombie to articulate my impression of last night’s free for all. but for you, and just for you, i give some transient musings.
holy mother masses of humanity! who didn’t go to the castro? because i know i saw your grandmother’s neighbor’s dog. or someone dressed as it. great costume by the way, but not as good as...
best costume: eight foot tall flounder a la the far side style.
runners-up: ninja. seriously. actually not so much the costume but the person underneath the black sheath. with only naked eyes showing, i could tell she was a beautiful creature.
runner-me (as steve austin): costumes with sound effects rule.
bunny-up: any dude who dresses in a rabbit suit and grinds to the blues deserves mention here.
and to think that steve austin was a part of royalty (almost): some young girls confused me and my red sweatsuit for a royal tenenbaum. i replied that i was not but that they could move forth, happily, now that they’ve met steve austin, the six million dollar man. they said “who is that....wait, is that like from 1987? no. uh-uh...that’s not right. i don’t know who that is.” and after some silent deliberation “you should be a royal tenenbaum.”
why, why, why? pissing in a large crowd, on your friend, even if your friend is costumed as a urinal, is unnecessary.
and finally: pizza can be might tasty at 2 am. mmmmm. pizza.
now i see why they call today the day of the dead. i am dead right now.
i need some rest in peace. peace out.
...and grover wanted a half-decaf venti nonfat mocha
after seeing the ring i thought some families could’ve benefited from a first born creepily over-perceptive child. i figure an aidan or a cole could go a long way in helping irresponsible parent pairs see a consequential end to baby making activities; that somehow the face of innocence delivering adult perception would scare some sense into these people.
i know. my theoretical musing is flawed in both moral and actual ways. other ways too, but ultimately i was just trying to create a reality for these kids to exist. and that maybe they could do some good for society. that is...until i went to long’s drug this weekend.
a mother and her 3 year-old daughter, who is perched in the fold-out seat compartment of the cart, legs barely long enough to dangle, are having a conversation on the candy aisle.
girl: mommy, i don’t want any candy.
mommy: you don’t. but it’s halloween. we need to get some candy for the trick-or-treaters.
girl: oh, ok. but after are you going for coffee?
mommy: no, i don’t think i need any coffee.
girl: but i think i need a soy latte.
(pause)
mommy: don’t talk like that dear. you scare me when you say those things.
yeah, me too. go back to the movies where you belong. seven year-olds shouldn’t be able to draw pictures for ghosts. eight year-olds shouldn't see dead people. and three year-olds shouldn’t want to order soy lattes.
