I haven't really celebrated Halloween for years. I love dressing up. I love witchy spooky creepy things. I really love Halloween. But Halloween in college meant three or four days of parties and that was really not my scene. But since I've been out of college for a while I decided this would be the Halloween to step outside of my comfort zone and go all out. I'd put up with parties if I got to dress up. Among rejected ideas were the Black Dahlia and zombie Bonnie and Clyde (Paul refused), but I finally settled on the perfect dead girl, Laura Palmer, which is especially seasonally appropriate considering the recent announcement that after 25 years, Twin Peaks will be back for a third season.
Twin Peaks is arguably the best TV show pretty much ever. Thank to Netflix I have the ability to binge watch the whole series whenever I want, and this has happened several times. I love every single thing about the show (other than James Hurley's plot line in season two which I always skip through). Everything else though is great. Audrey Horne. The jazzy music! Agent Dale Cooper is even the background of my phone. And Laura Palmer, the cracked out prostitute small town homecoming queen, doomed, dead, wrapped in plastic, may she rest in peace.
This year was going to be my year. I had an awesome costume. Paul had an awesome costume. He just dressed up as gothic version of himself. He thought he was so cool! I saw him checking himself out in the mirror all night.
But I'm not a partier. I failed at Halloween. It was the end of my 12 day work week which was a bad first move. I was exhausted. But I pushed through and we spent hours getting dressed up, we went to Falling Sky for dinner where we consumed sandwiches, burgers, and beer, full of gluten which my doctor has specifically told me not to eat. This was another bad move. We had so many plans! We had parties to crash! But we came home after dinner, and as soon as I was on my bed, that was it. Night over. Couldn't move. Wouldn't move. Poor Paul. He wanted to go out so badly. It was going to be our first real Halloween in years. But I took off all my makeup, nursed my sad stomach ache, and we watched The Avengers instead.
The best part of Paul's whole costume was this sharpie arm tattoo. He was going to write the famous Slaughterhouse-Five quote "everything was beautiful and nothing hurt" but change it to "everything was beautiful and everything hurt" to make it gothic and edgy and anarchist and hardcore. But we realized halfway though beautiful that he had written every, not everything. I haven't laughed that hard in a while.