Madhousewife:  I think Halloween is harmless.  I enjoyed it as a kid.

Sugar Daddy:  It’s good to know your soul isn’t dead after all.

Mad:  No, it is dead.  But I remember when it was still alive.


As long-time readers know, I am not fond of Halloween.  I used to say I hated Halloween, but “hate” is really too strong a word.  Well, most of the time it is.  Occasionally I do hate Halloween, like when we’re running late to a Halloween party and we can’t find crucial parts of kids’ Halloween costumes, or when we have to spend a whole Saturday at the pumpkin patch, or when I’m trying to pull Laffy Taffy out of the carpet–in those moments I do hate Halloween.  But the rest of the time I’m just kind of indifferent to Halloween, which is just as good as hating it when you live in a household dominated by Halloween lovers, said lovers including your spouse.

I did like Halloween as a kid.  I liked dressing up and getting free candy.  But I lost interest as I got older.  I think the last time I went trick-or-treating was in the sixth grade.  As I remember, it was fun.  But I had no desire to do it the next year.  Not in a “dude, Halloween is for babies” way.  I just didn’t want to go.  So I stayed home and passed out the candy.  To a lot of middle-schoolers, as I recall.  Actually, I recall passing out candy to classmates in high school.  (Yes, they were in costume.)  I never thought it was weird or lame for other people my age to still be trick-or-treating.  I just didn’t want to.  And I didn’t want to dress up anymore either.  No reason.  I just didn’t.

I did dress up at least one year, though, when the youth at our church put on a Halloween carnival for the kids and everybody.  That was kind of not optional.  I don’t remember what I was.  That might have been the year I wore my sister’s old Robin Hood costume.  It’s all blurry in my brain.  I do remember that being the beginning of hating Halloween parties because, dude, what a nightmare.  I do hate carnival games.  I do hate crowds.  I do hate pretending to have a good time when I’d rather be home doing something else.  So, yeah, I’m kind of an insufferable jerk.  But at least I’m self-aware.

So Halloween fell on a Sunday this year, which is only significant because there is some controversy among Mormons over whether or not you should go trick-or-treating on the Lord’s day.  Blah blah blah, I do not care about that issue.  When I was growing up, Halloween fell on Sunday one year, and all the Mormon kids went trick-or-treating on Saturday night to other Mormons’ houses.  Less fun than regular trick-or-treating, but at least we got our free candy, dammit.  Whatever, that’s not the point.  What’s funny about this moral dilemma is that Mormons (in general) freaking LOVE Halloween.  I’m not sure why this is, unless it’s just that Mormons will take any excuse to party and consume more food than is advisable.  Really, we are just a fun-loving bunch (generally), which surprises a lot of people, given our relatively ascetic lifestyle (no alcohol, no tobacco, no coffee–NO COFFEE???SRSLY???HOW DO WE LIVE???!!!???).  Maybe we are just overcompensating.  That’s probably it, actually.  At any rate, we loves to party, and we loves us some Halloween, so when Halloween falls on Sunday, it’s like asking us to choose between two equally good things.  It hurts.  It really does.

To compensate for the fact that many Mormon children would be deprived of the joys of trick-or-treating on Halloween, due to the excessive righteousness which prevents their parents from letting them participate in this activity on Sunday, our ward decided to throw a Halloween carnival on the 23rd and a “trunk-or-treat” event on the 30th.  This meant that the kids had to get dressed up twice, which kind of sucked because then I had to worry about people not spilling food on their costumes or otherwise harming them before the next time they had to wear them.  Fortunately, Princess Zurg, who usually has the most elaborate costumes, did not have her costume ready by the 23rd (we were waiting on something in the mail), so she opted for something minimalist that night.  My mother-in-law was visiting and had, for some strange reason, brought with her an old wig that was originally supposed to be a John Lennon wig, I think, but which we noticed looked an awful like Justin Bieber’s hair.  So PZ went to the party as Justin Bieber.  It was kind of creepy, actually.

Side note:  PZ has very, very long, thick, golden hair.  At least 70 percent of the people I talked to at the party thought that she had actually gotten a new haircut (and a dye job, apparently) and told me how nice it looked.  I want to tell you that people are full of crap.  But they’re polite.

The trunk-or-treat on the 30th was really the main Halloween event because that’s where all the free candy was.  Historically, during my marriage, I have dressed up for Halloween on rare occasions.  The best year was when I was Hester Prynne.  No one got it, but that was okay.  Usually I do something more minimalist and only vaguely festive for the occasion.  This year SD decided that we should be Spike and Drusilla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  I was not enthusiastic about this idea, for a couple of reasons:  1) it sounded like a lot of trouble and 2) I don’t like trouble.  But I’ve been married to SD long enough to know that it doesn’t pay to break his heart.  No, not one little bit.  So I agreed to it.

He did buy us fake teeth and prosthetic vampire foreheads.  I was really unenthusiastic about the foreheads because 1) it sounded like a lot of trouble and 2) I’ve always felt that women who are marginally attractive should only go to great lengths to make themselves more attractive, not less, so it was hard to get excited about a prosthetic forehead because my real forehead may very well be one of my better features.  At least it is not bumpy.  But I love my husband, so I wore the prosthetic vampire forehead.  It looked ugly and irritated my skin, but it wasn’t as bad as the teeth, which stuck on to my real canines with some kind of putty and I had to hold them in place for a full five minutes to seal, I kid you not.  A lot of saliva can happen in five minutes, I want to tell you.  (You didn’t want to know, but I told you anyway, because it’s my blog and my needs are paramount.)  It was unpleasant.  Then I couldn’t close my mouth.  I have an uncomfortable bite in the first place, which is the main reason I’m getting braces (soon!), but having these extra-long fake teeth did not help matters at all.  Then SD blackened my unnaturally-red hair with that spray-on hair color, and my hair was all flat after that.

So I walked around a muddy park for an hour wearing a prosthetic forehead and fake teeth that made me look like I had the mumps when my mouth was closed and like I was a drooling idiot when my mouth was open, and my hair was a flat mess of sticky black goo.

But to my husband, I was never more attractive.  ::Sigh::

[Insert multiple vomiting emoticons here]

And that’s the story of Halloween in the Madhousehold, chumps.  Yeah, I know you want pictures.  I’ll think about it.  I just have to decide how much I love you.