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Halloween–Time to Take Out the (Trailer) Trash

Image via Flikr Creative Commons, courtesy of Kevin Dooley.

Image via Flikr Creative Commons, courtesy of Kevin Dooley.

BY KRISTEN LAMB

October is one of my favorite months of the year. Texas is a lovely place to live…most of the time. For about three months it can feel like you are living on the surface of the sun—hotter than the hammered hinges of hell, as I like to say. Dig the alliteration.  For most of us Texans, we have this prolonged summer that often lasts until…October.

And then right about Halloween time we start getting the really beautiful fall weather that lasts until January :D. The trees turn color and the air is crisp and the skies are blue and the neighborhoods are all decorated for Halloween which is just a magical holiday any way you look at it.

Sure, this is the time for the ghouls and goblins and hauntings and scary movies, but it’s also the time for carving pumpkins and making candied apples.

One of my favorite Halloween memories was back in college. I was broke as usual. I attended a university where most of the students drove BMWs and Land Rovers. I walked to school so I didn’t have to put gas in the Geo Metro (picture a pregnant roller skate).

B-R-O-K-E.

My college roommate and I still wanted to partake in the Halloween festivities despite our financial difficulties, so I concocted the idea to go as Trailer Trash. It was HYSTERICAL. We went to the local Goodwill and bought our “costumes.”

My roommate was taller than me so she would be my “wife.” We bought these stretchy pants in a pattern that could cause an epileptic seizure. Seriously, there are some designs that should never be used in spandex. Then we found a pregnancy T-shirt (which we stuffed to make her roughly 9 months along).

We bought plastic house shoes and three packages of fantasy tattoos and covered her arms and neck in fairies, unicorns and more unicorns. Then we put pink foam rollers in her hair. She wore giant plastic hoop earrings and every necklace and ring she owned. I used makeup to give her quite an impressive and realistic-looking busted lip and black eye, which she covered with gaudy sunglasses. We topped it off with a baby bag full of tabloid magazines and beer bottles.

I went as her “husband.” I slicked my hair back with oil and wore a cheap Johnny Cash hat, shooting glasses, sweatpants and combat boots, a sleeveless Dallas Cowboys shirt from the 80s with a cammo Army vest and my security guard badge. I even had bubblegum in my cheek as dip. We found these giant fake tattoos of a dragon and a tiger…one for each of my forearms. And the piece de resistance?  Five women’s names on my right bicep….four crossed out.

We were deliciously horrid.

Oh but this wasn’t the end of it. I happened to be friends with two men who owned one of the top fine dining establishments in Fort Worth, Texas; the kind of place you have to get reservations. So my roomie and I decide to “go out for dinner.” We walk inside and the entire place just went silent. The maître de was in the back and I quickly told the partrons that we were in costume and asked that they not give us away.

So Nick, the maître de comes around the corner and nearly loses his teeth when he sees us. I demand a table and want to know why they don’t play any good music like Willie Nelson or ACDC. Anyway, I throw a holy Trailer Trash fit. I call him a damn foreigner and demand to know if he’s a Communist.

I then have another fit because there aren’t burgers on the menu and holler how I refuse to eat this Commie food and want to know why they don’t serve good American food like Hooters. I scream at my roommate that we should have gone to Golden Corral because nothing says “class” like a buffet with All-You-Can-Eat shrimp and steak.

My roommate starts crying and howling how I don’t love her and how the psychic hotline told her that I would get drunk and ruin our date night…and I “smack” her in the back of the head and tell her to shut the hell up. We had a hoot. Nick turns white, the owner/chef comes flying out of the kitchen. He’s demanding we leave and I get louder and bellow how my food stamps are just as good as real money and how I know people and I am going to turn him in as a Communist.

Just about the time I know Anthony is going to call the cops and have us dragged off to jail…I tell him who we are.

The entire restaurant just erupts with laughter and after the urge to chicken-choke the two of us passes, Nick and Anthony laugh too. And I will always remember that Halloween.

Best fun I’ve ever had for under ten dollars.

****

Kristen is the author of the new best-selling book, Rise of the Machines—Human Authors in a Digital World in addition to the #1 best-selling books We Are Not Alone—The Writer’s Guide to Social Media and Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Writer. She’s a contributing humor blogger for SocialIn, a blog that reaches 2.5 million and blogs for The Huffington Post. You can also follow her author blog here. She is also the Social Media Columnist for Author Magazine. Feel free to follow her on Twitter at @KristenLambTX and on Facebook.


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