Halloween Bust

If you tried reading this blog at midnight when it was supposed to post, then you know that I’m late today. I was late writing it. And not even for a good reason. I’ll get to that in a few sentences.

Halloween went over pretty well. I got to dress up kind of spooky-ish. See pic above. I wasn’t trying to be so scary that kids would run when I opened up the door. Actually, I wasn’t trying to be scary at all, but I went to see my son at the tattoo shop so he could put the makeup on for me and if you have any kind of brain, you don’t tell an artist how to do his art, so that’s what I ended up with. I think I looked pretty damn awesome, but I’m also biased to my kid’s artwork. Although Mel, my youngest son told me that my makeup was so good, I was going to make people wreck because they were going to be distracted trying to look at my face. So I guess that was a pretty good compliment.

I wasn’t planning on dressing up for Halloween. Well, I was planning on dressing up, just not this day. I was planning on dressing up on Saturday to go to a Halloween party, but the weather didn’t agree with my state of mind so I stayed in all weekend feeling like it was raining on my psyche as well as on the ground. It was wet and cold. Two things that do not go together in my world. Yesterday, the sun was shining and it wasn’t really all that cold. Not that it would have mattered too much because I didn’t leave the house. Once I picked Mel up from basketball practice, I hunkered down for the night.

My friend came over and brought a bottle of wine. And we drank, watched Live.me videos and waited for trick or treaters. And we waited. And we waited. And we waited. I kind of knew I wouldn’t have even twenty people come by to trick or treat, but I was optimistic. I went to the store earlier in the day and bought a couple packs of Reese’s Cups. Full size.

My friend’s mom used to always hand out full-sized candy bars on Halloween. I remember my kids always wanted to go there first because of the full-sized candy bars. This year, I decided that I would garner myself that reputation. I don’t live in the best neighborhood, so there aren’t very many trick or treaters. I actually had more last year. I think I said, last year, that I was going to do better this year and decorate. Turns out I’m a lazy liar. I didn’t decorate. I only decorated my face. But now, I’m serious. Next year, I’m going to decorate the house and I’m going to put one of those metal signs that realtors and politicians use to sell themselves right smack dab in the front yard. It’s going to say, “Make this your first Halloween stop! Full-size candy for kids. Shots for parents.”

I’m pretty sure that I will kick off the season right. It’s too bad Halloween won’t be falling on a weekend for a couple more years. Either way, I will definitely get a new rep next year. One little girl, this year, did say, “You’re the only person handing out big candy bars.” To which I replied, “tell your friends.” Maybe that’s where the other 3 kids came from. Not sure.

After the night ended, I took a shower to wash all the makeup off my face. I had to use a washrag and basically scrub all the layers of skin off my face. And then the black around my eyes didn’t want to go anywhere. So I reverted to my secret make-up removal trick.

Spit.

Don’t laugh. And it’s not that gross. It’s only mildly disgusting. I wouldn’t recommend freshly brushing your teeth before doing this trick either. Just good old-fashioned, whatever spit you have in your mouth at the time. You know how if you leave a spoon in your pudding, when you go back, it’s all nasty and gelatinous?  It kind of does that to your makeup. I guess the enzymes in your saliva break down the makeup and you can wipe it right off. Go ahead. Try it. You can thank me later. My friend, Maranda, says to use lotion, but I already know that I will get that in my eye and it will burn and turn my eyeball red… like soap. Saliva doesn’t do that. Everybody may not agree with my system, but it works.

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If you are reading this and I gave birth to you, this is where the do not read section starts. So end here and have a good day. I love you.

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If I didn’t give birth to you, this is where the sex stuff starts.

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After I showered and got my face right, I was getting ready to write this blog and take my happy, tired ass to sleep. And then my unboyfriend text me. You know the one. I’ve mentioned him about a hundred times over the last few years. I haven’t seen him in months. Because the last time I saw him, it was all about him and I didn’t get off and I was salty about it.  Like I said, it had been months since I had seen him. It had also been at least a month since I had seen anyone else. Mostly because I can’t find anyone worth sleeping with because everyone is selfish and lame. I don’t ask for much, but I do have some demands that I like to be met while sexing. One is that I want to have an orgasm. Doesn’t seem like that would be too much to ask. I mean, I’m not one of those girls who gets off if the wind blows, but I’m not impossible to get off. And if you can’t do it by yourself, bring a friend… just kidding. I was going to say, if you can’t do it by yourself, I will help. I have no problem with that. Just make sure I’m happy before we go to sleep.

Normally, I would be a dick in a situation like the one I willingly put myself in, but it was my fault. I already knew he was a selfish lover. He didn’t use to be. It just turned that way over the last year which is why I stopped going over. And he’s a drinker, a smoker, and a snorer. All things I can (and try) to live without. But for some stupid reason, I always make an exception for him. And I always wind up sorely disappointed. This time was no exception. And then, to make matters worse, after he didn’t perform well in the bedroom, guess what? Yep, he fell asleep first. And he started snoring. I already knew I was waking up at 4:30. It was already after midnight. So I laid there….. salty….as….fuck…. listening to him snore until my body gave out from exhaustion and I eventually slept…fitfully.

The only good thing that did come out of that whole situation is that while I was laying in bed next to him, I wrote a poem…in my head… that I will be attempting to get on paper today. So I guess it wasn’t all for nothing. Although it seems like a lot of it was for nothing.

Now I go back to my celibate practices. If the sex is bad, does it even really count as sex? Unfortunately, I think I know the answer. I also think I need to weed out my prospects more effectively. Maybe with some sort of sex application.