I hate dressing up. I really hate dressing up.
I hate that my kids dress up, and fight about which costumes they get to wear, and cry when someone else puts the one set of vampire teeth in their mouth.
I especially hate there are costumes strewn around the house for two weeks.
I hate how hyper my kids get because they're hopped up on candy.
I hate the Monster Mash, and Thriller, and Time Warp from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. (But I do like Boingo, oddly enough.)
I hate the gore, and the fake blood, and the grotesqueness of it all.
I hate that a half day of work is lost to people walking around checking out what everyone else is dressed up as.
I hate the the other half of the day is lost to handing out candy to fellow coworker's kids who come to the office in their costumes.
I hate that I have to hand out candy for several hours at night to a bunch of kids I've never seen before. They don't go to school with my kids. They don't go to church with my kids. They pour out of minivans, bussed from other neighborhoods where apparently people hand out salt water taffy and raisins instead of Milky Way bars.
I hate that my dog barks every time the door bell rings.
I hate when 16 year olds show up on my door step as if it's okay for them to still be trick or treating like they're five. Some don't even bother with costumes.
I hate buying groceries from a cashier dressed like Elvira, mistress of the dark. Or making a deposit at the bank to someone dressed like Howdy Doody.
But this year, I hate Halloween even more because I have to work near this guy:
Yes, it's a costume. And no, it is not right. Be thankful I didn't post the full frontal shot.
