Happy Halloween.

The Man Without Costumes

Happy Halloween.

Happy Halloween. There, I said it, now, will you please leave me alone? I am very busy. I recently discovered that my favorite thing ever is watching “Making the Cut,” a documentary series about recruits going through hell to get into elite divisions of the military, while stuffing my face. There’s something exhilarating about watching grunts carry two hundred pound dummies through clouds of tear gas while devouring a box of ice cream sandwiches in your underwear. It makes you feel…alive. Anyway, my new favorite thing is, well, time consuming. So much so that I hardly have a spare second to drag my butt to the costume store (Oo, look! Now they’re treading water in full gear for two hours!) and wade through the throngs of eager Halloweenies for a cheaply made cape and plastic fangs, totaling $35.95, not incl. tax. I’m not trying to be a Scroogey (spooky Scrooge), it’s just that I’m really lazy. Sure, I can appreciate a well executed, scary and/or clever Halloween costume as much as the next guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to devote thirty man-hours to constructing an outfit that will prove to strangers that I am both resourceful and In the Know. Also, and I mean this with no disrespect to my single friends, I’m married, and Halloween isn’t exactly “a fun way to meet other married couples.” You get drunk, impress a few folks with your costume that is a reference to one of the running bits on “Community,” and have a sloppy make-out session with a witch/cat/cat-witch. At least that’s what I’m told. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the staff sergeant is about to open a can of hurt on the new recruits.

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