Life on the Moon.

Trick-or-Treating with 5-yr-old > Sluttin’ it up at a Halloween Party.

Halloween was yesterday.

Husband’s work decided to let the one young guy with kids work closing shift on Halloween, as opposed to making ANY of the other people his age (and older!) WITHOUT kids work on Halloween. So, we decided that Halloween is more for the kids. And since Daddy wasn’t going to be able to go with, we decided to do whatever would make the kids most happy. My Mother-In-Law called asking if she could take Charlie for the weekend & go Trick-Or-Treating. So, after a good day and a half of debating, we decided to let Charlie go with the Mother-In-Law because then her entire Halloween would be all about Charlie. (And that’s how Charlie likes it.) And that I would take Conner Trick-Or-Treating by himself with just me because Conner & I LOVE Mommy-Son time. And then HIS entire Halloween would be all about Conner. (Which is exactly how he likes it as well.)

Carmen calls me on Thursday and I tell her what’s going on because Carmen and I need to be kept up-to-date on EVERYTHING that’s going on in our lives. From her clients to the cute girl in the Little Bo Peep costume that walked by her school’s window to my children’s schedules for the week.

Carmen: Wait, so you’re taking Conner Trick-Or-Treating and then what?
Me: Nothing. FarmVille, maybe?
Carmen: When will you be done Trick-Or-Treating?
Me: Uh, probably around 7:30? It gets dark so early that we’re going to go around 5ish when everyone is still stocked & then Conner will be in a sugar coma by the time 8 o’clock rolls around.
Carmen: COME TO A HALLOWEEN PARTY WITH ME!
Me: That’s weird.
Carmen: YOU HAVE TO COME! YOU HAVE BABYSITTERS! IT’S PERFECT!
Me: But WEIRD! I haven’t been to a party since ST. PATRICK’S DAY OF ‘06, CARMEN. I don’t do parties.
Carmen: It’s not a huge party. It’s just a little get together. It’ll be SO FUN!
Me: …..Alright. But I’m not drinking!
Carmen: OH MY GOD. I AM SO EXCITED! IT’S MY TWO FAVORITE THINGS! HALLOWEEN AND YOU!

So, that is when I realized that I’m going to a party.
And for the next day and a half, I was having one big panic attack.

Halloween rolls around and I’m suiting Conner up in his BatMan costume. When we realize that he has lost his mask.

#1 rule in life: You can not be BatMan without a BatMan mask. I could NOT let my son be seen walking around as BatMan with no mask. What kindof mother do you think I am? So what did I do? Sacrificed 3/4ths of my bottle of $8 liquid eyeliner and made my own motherfucking BatMan mask.

Yes, sure, my eyeliner might have been sparkly. But I just convinced him that it increased his Bat-Magic and it all worked out fine.

But then he insisted upon telling me that, “If you’re coming Trick-Or-Treating with me: You have to dress up.” And considering the only costume that I had was 1/4th of a bottle of sparkly, liquid eyeliner: Half-ass cat it was!

We headed to the mall first because all of the stores hand out candy. Then our plan after that was to head to this huge apartment complex where he could get 400 pieces of candy within one set of these apartments.

**I would just like to point out that I have no idea why my son’s pupils are always SO BIG. In EVERY SINGLE PICTURE, his pupils are so big that he ALWAYS has the most intense red-eye that my red-eye corrector sees it and is like, “Oh, fuck that. I can’t fix THAT.”

So, we get done Trick-Or-Treating at the mall and we get out to the car and realize that Carmen had left my headlights on and thus: My battery was dead. After asking a few terrifying people for jumper cables (Terrifying in general: Not because of their costumes), and NO ONE apparently thinking that their battery will EVER die, therefore none of them owning jumper cables: We called Carmen’s dad and had him come jump the car.

Which didn’t work.

I know my husband doesn’t think that I pay attention to all of his car-speak. (And if you know my husband: It’s ALL he talks about. EVER.) But I do. And her dad had to park behind us because some fucking dumb Japs park in the open spot in front of our car, so I get out of my car really quick & tell them that my car died, I need a jump & if they had any jumper cables.

JapDouche: Nope, I don’t think I have any. [Walks away].

WALKS AWAY?! DUDE. YOU PARKED IN THE OPEN SPOT IN FRONT OF MY CAR WHICH I JUST TOLD YOU WAS DEAD & NEEDED JUMP. THEREFORE, I’M GOING TO EVENTUALLY FIND SOMEONE TO DO IT BUT, UH, THEY SORTOF NEED THAT SPOT, DON’T YOU THINK? Aren’t you fuckers supposed to be SMART?

WHATEVER.

So, Carmen’s dad had to park behind my car and use these 280 foot cables to try & jump my car. And. It. Would. Not. Work. Because of secretly listening & absorbing while making it seem like I am totally uninterested in anything car-related that my husband tells me, I knew that it wasn’t working because the cables were too long. That there wasn’t enough electricity getting to my battery from his by the time it ran through these 8 miles of cables.

This is Conner & I waiting for our car to work. Which never happened.

By the time we finally realized: HEY! THIS ISN’T WORKING! It was far too late to take Conner to an apartment complex. Which sucked because the Mall was not very generous in the candy department.

(HA. Mall. Department. I made a funny!)

Luckily! Carmen’s dad had just moved into the city after living on a dead end street off in the country part of town for the last 6 years never getting ONE Trick-Or-Treater. So, his girlfriend & him stocked up on candy to FINALLY give some out.

And they didn’t get a single one. HA.

So, Carmen’s dad took us to his house & we had Conner walk up to the door & pretend to Trick-Or-Treat & they FILLED his entire pumpkin up with candy. So, that made up for it because in all reality: Kids don’t give a shit HOW they get the candy, just as long as they get it.

Then Carmen’s dad drives us back to Carmen’s. We drive Conner over to my mom’s where he fell into his sugar coma in the 5 minute drive from Carmen’s house. At this point, it’s about 9:45 and we’re rushing to get ready to go to this party. Me, still freaking out the entire time & letting Carmen know.

Me: I’m not even sure I should go…
Carmen: NO. You ARE going. You NEED to go out.
Me: BUT IT’S SO WEIRD!

Weird was my word of choice for this party, if you hadn’t noticed.

So, we’re rushing to get ready. Carmen was the Queen of Hearts from Alice & Wonderland and I was Snow White. As soon as my outfit was all put together is when it all hit me:

“I don’t like this.”

I tried on the costume the Thursday we decided I was going to go. I didn’t have my hair done, I didn’t have any make up on. I hadn’t showered in 3 days. I went over there just to see which one of her many costumes would fit me. (Carmen takes Halloween VERY seriously.) And Snow White was the winner. The skirt wasn’t too short, my boobs didn’t hang out too much. It worked!

That is, until I was all ready. My hair was curled, I was wearing far too much make up than what I normally wear. I had thigh-high red stockings on with black heel boots. I had to tighten my bra straps because I NEVER have them tightened because I am ALL about the comfort, thus making my boobs make a giant U-Turn to directly under my neck. Everytime I walked by the mirror, my skirt seemed to get shorter.

“I don’t like thiiiiiis.”

Thank God it’s always freezing in Washington so I had a good excuse to bring Carmen’s long (therefore EXTRA long on me) adorable white trench-coat to cover myself up.

We run to Stephen’s work. We run back to the mall to use my mom’s significantly shorter jumper cables to jump our car and BAM: TURNED ON THE FIRST TRY.

(See, Babe? I so listen. I just pretend not to. I have a reputation to hold up.)

But we were EXTREMELY late. We got to the party around 10:45. There’s a few people I recognize and about 20 that I don’t. I walk in and immediately Frankie (it was his house & he was the one who did mine & Carmen’s BFF tattoos) pulls out a camera and yells: “CARMEN! TRINA! PICTURES!” And then Carmen pulled out hers and yells, “OH! ON MINE, TOO!”

“I DON’T WANT THIS DOCUMENTED. I DON’T LIKE THIS.”

But whatever! One picture with Carmen? Do-able. I like to document my whole life through pictures anyway. And even if I felt totally uncomfortable, at least I had a picture to look back on with Carmen and say, “I fucking hate you for making me wear that.”

That was, until, all the already-drunk-people saw camera lights and were like, “OMFGGGGGG, PICTURRESSSSS! YESSsssssssss! [trips] [stumbles] [spills drink]”

See me holding onto Carmen for awkward, dear-life? Yeah, I felt it was necessary. These pictures were taken immediately as we walked in the door. For the rest of the time. I sat on the couch, with my legs crossed so no one could see up my skirt that, I swear to God, Carmen must have cut while I wasn’t looking because I do NOT remember it being that short. And with my arms across my body.

Arms across body. WAY too much cleav. OBVIOUSLY having a ton of fun.

I gave it the benefit of the doubt, though. I hadn’t been to a party in 3 1/2 years. And I barely knew anyone here. All parties are awkward at first, if you don’t know anyone, until you get comfortable. So, right after that picture was taken, I put on my trench coat that goes down to my knee (all while repeating, “Thank GOD, I have this coat. THANK GOD I HAVE THIS COAT” over & over in my head) and go outside to have a smoke.

Which is where these two, disgusting, dirty excuses for human beings throw themselves up against the wall RIGHT next to me as I’m smoking and start, LITERALLY DRY HUMPING EACHOTHER. I mean, saliva-dripping-legs-up-and-around-hips-pressed-up-against-a-wall-DRY-HUMPING.

…UM, I AM RIGHT HERE? Do you have NO decency?

If I want to watch someone have sex, I have all the adult channels at my house. I’ll do it there. At least I won’t get a fucking knee jabbed into my side while I’m smoking.

Which is when I decided: “No. This is not awkward because I just have to give it some time. This is awkward because it’s fucking awkward.”

This is not me. This is not what I do anymore. I realized that the reason I hadn’t gone to a party in 3 years is because I DON’T WANT TO GO TO A PARTY. Have you ever been the only sober one at a party? When you’re drunk around drunk people, you think everyone is so fun and awesome and “OH MY GOD, WE SHOULD, LIKE, SO BE BFFSSSSS!”. When you’re sober around drunk people, you think: “Do you lose the ability to hear/have conversations when you drink? Because all you guys are all doing is screaming while you’re 5 inches from eachother’s faces talking about how:

“I DON’T GIVE A FUHHHHH-KKKKK IF I SPILLED, LIKE, I JUST DON’T GIVE A FUCK!”
“I KNOW, RIGHT? LIKE, IT’S JUST A FUCKING SPILLED DRINK. NO FUCKING BIG DEAL!”
“ITS A FUCKING SPILLED DRUNK ‘N FUCKING CLEAN IT WHEN I FUCKING WANT TO CUZ I DON’T FUCKING CARE. YOU CAN’T GET SO UPSET ABOUT IT. LIKE, FUCKING BE LIKE WHATEVER! I DON’T FUCKING CARE!”

……That was an actual, swear to God, verbatim conversation that I watched happen right in front of me when someone spilled their drink basically on my foot.

After that, I refused to take off my coat. Carmen gave me the pouty face for a good 5 minutes before she realized that wasn’t going to work & tried a sexy dance to lure me out of it. It was pretty convincing, I won’t lie, but still didn’t work.

All of this has happened within 25 minutes. Which is when I grabbed Carmen’s phone and called my house about 15 THOUSAND times, leaving messages: “STEPHEN. CALL ME. I WANT TO LEAVE.” After not being able to get ahold of him, I decided that I was done being Snow White.

Honestly? I felt like an idiot. Charlie, my 23 month old daughter, wanted to be Snow White for Halloween. I felt like a 2-year-old. I’m dressed up in a Disney Princess costume that a child would wear. That was basically child-size also. I am 21-years-old. I am married. I have two children. I should not be prancing around in a costume that my TODDLER DAUGHTER would fight to the death for hanging out with a bunch of drunk screaming people and a giant Gorilla.

NOW. I’m not dissing going out and partying. I’m not saying that if you dress up for Halloween, you’re an idiot. Do what you want! I’m all for people doing what they want. (You know, unless it’s Heroin or Prostitution or something like that. I’m pretty much down for you doing anything that doesn’t end in jail-time.) I mean, for Godsakes: My best friend is absolutely OBSESSED with Halloween. She LOVES dressing up and drinking and dancing her ass off until she passes out. But that’s Carmen. She’s not married. She doesn’t have two kids. She can do all of this, it’s the age you’re supposed to be doing. I mean, I’m 21. I should be out doing this. But I had kids young. I got married young. So, I gave up that life young.

And honestly? I don’t miss it.

That’s around the time that I snuck out to Carmen’s car and changed back into my normal clothes. I was done feeling like a 9-year-old at a grown-up party. Although, I did find it absolutely hilarious that Carmen was ALREADY so drunk that it look her about half an hour to notice that I didn’t have my costume on anymore. And the most hilarious part was? We were smoking and she screams:

Carmen: -gasps- WHAT?! YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR HEADBAND ON!
[Pause 25 seconds.]
[Looks down at my clothes]
Carmen: OH MY GOD! YOU DON’T HAVE ANY OF IT ON!!!

HAHAHAHAHA. As much as I can’t stand drunk people when I’m sober: I can definitely stand Carmen. All she does is make me laugh. If you ever want a fun time drinking, guys: Hit up Carmen.

Then for the next hour and a half, I stood around waiting for Stephen to come pick me up.

SIDENOTE: Bonnie (my Mother-In-Law): If you’re reading this, I would really appreciate it if you’d turn our cell phones back on. Do you know how much it sucks not being able to call your husband to come pick you up when a Mexican in a Gorilla suit won’t stop “accidentally” falling onto you on 47 separate occasions and then repeatedly asking, “YOU WANNA DRAAAAAANK!?” while shaking a giant half gallon of some sort of blue nuclear-waste-looking liquid in your face after telling him the last 46 times, “NO. THANK. YOU.”? Well, it sucks alot. Help a sista (or daughter-in-law) out. Thanks.

Stephen finally showed up and I’m pretty sure these next few pictures will sum up just exactly how fucking beyond excited he was to be there and how excited I was to leave and GTF-HOME.

Stephen is looking down & laughing at me because I don’t think he’s ever seen such joy come across my face when he walked into the door.

That’s my “Let’s GTF-HOME” face. In case any of you were wondering.

But seriously, you guys. Look at the difference between the pictures of Conner & I and the pictures of me at the party. Which one of them do you think I look like I was having more fun in?

I’d rather be a half-ass-eyeliner-cat with my 5-year-old, sparkly-BatMan-masked son than a slutty Snow White at a party any Halloween. Just sayin’.