Anyone Can Blog ~ Commenting Is Hard
What are YOU going to be for Halloween?
lol! I hope you Ohioans are wearing these because I just heard on the news that the Republican Gov. candidate is getting his ass kicked in the polls.
Brew, it’s true and too bad. Sadly, since he’s a black man, some people think he’s not “representin” like he should. He has my vote.
I love Halloween, but now I live in a neighborhood where it’s mostly old people. Which is nice because it’s quiet.
So any stray kids are out of luck, at least this year.
How old is old?
I set traps for tomorrow. We’re gonna scare the crap out of some toddlers.
I love Halloween.
Old meaning creaky and deaf.
Eh? Shout into my hearing aid.
That kind of old.
Watch those bear traps for the toddlers–the beagle may get snapped.
I have been sharpening his teeth for the little monsters.
He’s gonna draw blood.
Last year, I spent Halloween hiding in my room with the living room lights turned off so no kids would come to my door. And then I went to the store the next day and scored off all the candy sales. It was sweet.
When I was a kid, my parents took us trick-or-treating in a better part of the city so that we could have the same fun as other kids.
This grand tradition continues, with vans and station wagons pulling up to my street in the suburbs, and little city children tumbling out, all dressed adorably. My husband mutters about them ‘busing in’ trick-or-treaters, but I love the little ones.
Their parents care enough about them to make sure they get to have this experience, and the babies are so delighted and excited about the whole thing they could practically pee their itty bitty costumes over it.
I deplore the older local kids, who barely make an effort at a costume, then reach like scary pigs right into the bowl before I can dispense their treats. I chastise them and they laugh at me.
Yeah, right Dave.
I think you’re a softie who already has candy ready. And a costume to wear to open the door in.
Oh yeah, Laura, the older kids who make little effort at a costume.
I cut them off the third time they show up at the door. They get the “I know what you’re up to” eyeball the second time. (I give good treats and the word spreads.)
(I give good treats and the word spreads.)
I agree lauraW, I like that story, and it’s true. My neighborhood wasn’t the best when I was a kid, but it was populated with a lot of older people who found a lot of joy when the kids would show up.
I also agree with your attitude. If the kids are “bussed” in, then at least go all out for it. Don’t just drive a bunch of half assed brats who want the good candy into a different neighborhood, and if you do “bus” your kids into a neighborhood, let them enjoy the longer walk between residences than can be easily enjoyed in the confined environment of city life.
If the kids who visited me on holloween weren’t almost exclusively the children of neighbors that I know and get along with, I would be able to get into the celebration more, I want them to move on from the crazy guy next door, and go visit people like my neighbors when I was a child who can feed into their joy, and share it. I just spoil them, which is kinda odd, I woulda thought that the crazy guy in my appartment is the guy who gives out giant sized candy bars, but I guess the neighbor kids are just protecting their best pusher.
Brewfan? Mister Hardwick (Lipstick, see if the hubby likes that one, or how about “longstick”) might get offended if you follow up.
Lipstick, also, I just realized, that if you called your husband “mr LS” then he could know that it actually means “longstick” which I think would get him over the “I’m the bitch in these discussions” sorta thing.
I’m just trying help.
Last year, I spent Halloween hiding in my room with the living room lights turned off so no kids would come to my door.
OK, I take back everything I said. You should not have gone to the Renaissance Festival.
I deplore the older local kids, who barely make an effort at a costume, then reach like scary pigs right into the bowl before I can dispense their treats.
There’s just something wrong about a trick-or-treater who needs a shave. We used to get some of them when we lived in a real urban neighborhood in St. Louis.
I thought “Mr. Throbbingstick” had been agreed upon by all interested parties.
I thought that was just a favored suggestion, not to mention “Mr. TS,” makes everyone think that “Mr. T.S.” Is married to one of the Tranny Skank commentors.
Mr. L.S. could be an inside joke, acknowledging both Lipstick, and feed his male ego.
Mr. LS sounds great, WP.
Maybe I’ll go with that, if Michael approves, hehe.
Mr. TS caused some discomfort because apparantly TS is short for trans-sexual.
Mr. LS? Can you please stop posting as your wife?
Nah, WP, it’s me, Mr. Whateverwe’recallinghim is on a business trip and I’m just hanging out drinking wine.
It kind of seems like bragging. And you all know how modest I am…
LongStick is less humble?
ACK! I meant “more modest.”
Well, the LS could be short for Lipstick.
Don’t tell him that!!!
I mean, you can cave in and get kinda dirty and say that “lipstick” is your nickname for his “junk” but You ar way too classy to cave in like that.
Cheney is not amused.
One Halloween we made a life-sized dummy out of old clothes and a wig head with a mask on it. We set it on the porch.
That f’n thing scared the crap out of me every time I came home after work. You’d think I would remember after a week.
After Halloween, I moved it into my son’s bathroom after he was asleep and set it on the pot. We found pieces of it the next day. He got even though, he reassembled it and hung it in our shower. Scared Mrs. G.
Ah, he’s got no worries about his “junk”, hehe.
Musli, why is Cheney not amused?
I know his wife was not amused with CNN, which was a joy to see.
Lynn Cheney Rocks!
I think Mus misstated. I think he meant that Dick Cheney’s Cock is not amused.
After all, there are three infinate, and indeterminable forces on the planet. John Boltons Mustache, Dick Cheney’s Cock and Carl Rove.
I made a newpaper-filled clothes dummy, and got up on the roof, and dropped it with a rope around his neck to scare the kids when they turned around.
I think I was 15 at the time.
One kid freaked and started running to his dad, got tangled up in the dummy, and the little bastard dragged me off of the roof.
Good times, good times.
and the little bastard dragged me off of the roof.
Reminds me of this:
There’s some neighborhoods nearby where, after the little kids have their Halloween, the adults go trick-or-treating. They carry cups instead of pillowcases.
Each house dispenses a little shot of booze. I wish I lived in one of those neighborhoods.
Back when my dad used to drive us around to trick or treat, he would take us by the house of his first boss out of high school (ran a construction company). I’d go up to the door, and when they opened it, I was taught to say “Trick or Treat…..and a BEER for Dad!” They’d give me my treats along with a bottle of Old Milwaukee to take back to the car. Good times indeed.
I have a friend who makes a haunted house in his garage every year, something that takes the kids about 5 minutes to get through.
He sits in his driveway and hands out beers to the parents waiting for the kids go through his haunted garage. Most popular house in the neighborhood by far.
All these story’s are PERFECT examples why you should live on, in, or on a block near a culdesac (I never the spelling right, cuz I’m a guy who can’t stop making jokes about the term)
My brother, when he puts up his decorations (usually, not this year though) needs me to lean out of one of his second floor windows, and grab his belt, while he puts decorations on his rather steep roof.
During christmass, I have to tie a bowline around his waist, and mine using laundry chord so that he doesn’t fall off of his big ass house and die. Why I’m the anchor? I don’t know, he outweighs me by 30 lb’s, but I think it’s less a safety measure, and more a way of my big brother saying “If I go, you’re coming with me you little shit.” but . . . .
Well long story about a culdesac.
Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:
You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )
You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )
Connecting to %s
Notify me of new comments via email.
Notify me of new posts via email.
Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
Join 960 other followers