Mr. Asshole Halloween

Every year stupid Halloween sneaks up on me in an annoying and predictable way.

I usually decide sometime in the middle of the summer, during a random moment of inspiration, what I'm going be for Halloween. Then I'll scream "That's it!" from the couch (I'm usually lying on the couch when this happens) and will repeat it over and over until Bubba gives up and asks me what is "it". At which point I will laugh mysteriously and tell him that I know what I'm going to be for Halloween as though it were the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything, which it is not. Then he will go back to what he was doing like I'd said nothing at all, meanwhile pretending that I am the normal wife he once fantasized that I was even though it's pretty obvious to everyone that I'm a kook.

I'll admit, the fact that I have these yearly exclamations is kind of weird since I really don't like Halloween that much aside from the Mad Candy Eating and then the In Between Trick or Treaters Candy Eating and then Leftover Candy Eating and eating a hundred cupcakes at work because they have orange frosting that you can only get at Halloween, hello!

Anyway, this summer when I was watching Rob & Big (which, have you seen this show because if you have not, please go look at this right now and then come back and laugh with me because it is my favorite and you should love it, too.) I had my Halloween epiphany during a Wendy's commercial.

Hazah! I will be a Wendy's person! Not, "I will be Wendy" herself, but a Wendy's person - someone who is "Wendy's - That's Right!" which you know they are because they suddenly appear with the Wendy hair while everyone else remains normal.

Oh yes, this is the perfect costume. I get to wear all my normal clothes and makeup (meaning no super uncomfortable shoes, ill-fitting or weather inappropriate outfit or probably poisonous makeup) AND I get to wear a wig which is the only thing in the Halloween store I'm ever interested in. Just find me a fun wig and I'll be happy. I'll build my whole costume around it - except I don't have to because it IS the costume.

Tah-DOW.

See, now you know why I had to exclaim it so dramatically. Because it is obviously the most awesome costume ever. The perfect combo of great, timely character AND super low maintenance and comfortable costume.

I am/was a genius.

Then I had an unfortunate run-in with reality.

I ordered the wig way back at the beginning of October when I thought that "geez, I have SO much time before Halloween gets here I'm going to be super prepared and NOT scramble around in the broken bin at that Halloween store at the 11th hour by getting everything squared away way in advance."

It was a great moment that I was very proud of and made me feel like I beat Halloween at its own evil game for once.

Not so.

As soon as I clicked "buy" I got an email that said "out of stock". Touche, Halloween. Touche.

But then I got a message that said, "Will arrive by 10/22". Ha! Score one for me.

And then 10/26 rolled around and I called the wig place who told me, "Sorry, back-ordered again. Oh, and so sorry we didn't call you. We weren't sure you needed it for Halloween."

Really?

A bright red, "Clown Red" to be specific, wig with bangs and braided pig tails with ribbon ties? Is this what all those balding men seeking wigs are buying these days to cover their shiny noggins? Because it looks so natural? Just stop your lying.

Anyways - in case you lost count there - that was the match point in Halloween's court. And I'm sorry if that doesn't make any sense as I'm not a fan of tennis but whatever it means that Halloween beat me again and there I was back at zero with five days until Halloween at the most Halloween celebratingest company in the whole wide world -DAMN.

But, ho HO, Mr. Asshole Halloween - I had a backup costume lurking in the depths of my evil genius mind. And all I needed was a red with white polka dots bandanna which I'd seen at Michael's so far back in the day that I knew it wouldn't be there anymore but I still raced over there just in case and it was gone. Boo.

No worries though, I found it on Saturday at Asshole Hancock Fabrics while I was there buying all of their cheap and fabulous fleece despite all the mean store clerks yelling at me and now I'm properly outfitted to Halloween enough of my ass off at work so that I appear acceptably excited about a holiday I believe should be reserved only for children under the age of ten.

And, no, I'm not dressing up my dog for Halloween. Just in case you were about to be the one hundredth person to ask me that while simultaneously making gaw-gaw noises at Jada and trying to feed her chocolate cupcakes. She will only be wearing her normal backpack filled with enough candy to get me through the day so that I don't kill anyone or their shameful Chihuahua dressed as a hotdog.