Party rock is in the house tonight
Everybody just have a good time
And we gonna make you lose your mind
We just wanna see ya shake that
Everyday I’m shufflin’
Step up fast and be the first girl to make me throw this cash
We gettin’ money, don’t be mad now, stop, hatin’ is bad
One more shot for us, another round
Please fill up my cup, don’t mess around
We just wanna see you shake it now
Now you wanna be, you’re naked now
Ever since I can remember, I have started every September with the same phrase, “Babe, it’s almost Halloween! I looove Halloween! Like, I love it more than Christmas. Maybe we should start giving each other gifts.” And ever since I can remember, Mr. Big would reply “Do you know why girls love Halloween so much? Because it gives y’all an excuse to dress like whores.”
I guess he has a point.
Maybe I do enjoy dressing like a “whore.” Maybe I do enjoy an extra short skirt, thigh-high stockings, and false eyelashes once a year. And maybe I do get excited to tease my hair bigger than normal and smear colored eye shadow and lipstick on my face…
Honestly, unleashing one’s inner streetwalker once every 365 days doesn’t seem like that bad of a ratio, does it? I mean, seriously, things really could be worse.
Anyhow, as you can see, for a very long time Big hated how much I loved Halloween. He hated the costumes I picked out for myself. He hated the costumes I picked out for him. He hated the make-up, and the preparation, and the pictures. He hated how I forced my dog to wear felt versions of other animals, and vegetables, and superheroes, and Disney characters. He hated how much money I forked out for the perfect “punkin,” and the perfect accessories, and the perfect… well, let’s get real here, he hates how much money I spend in general. You get my point though. He was the Ebenezer Scrooge of my Halloween Haunt.
The only things he liked about my beloved holiday were all the things I hated: the haunted houses, and the haunted woods, and the haunted hayrides, and the haunted trails… so, basically anything freakin’ haunted.
As you all know, I am afraid of the dark. Okay, so I throw that phrase around loosely. I am not “afraid of the dark,” per say, just afraid of: stalkers, murders, rapists, thieves, zombies, vampires, ghosts, demons, poltergeists, hooded figures, men in dark clothing, urban legends, driving at night, and those red beady eyes from Amityville Horror. Perfectly normal, right? Everyone is afraid of creatures of the undead, ax murders, and scenes from movies based on a hoax. I mean, just the other day Bubba told me he searched the basement (his wing of the house) with a pocket knife because one of the cats had pushed the back door open.
Regardless of what you may or may not be scared of, I don’t do haunted houses, or hayrides, or anything for that matter. For the love of tiny baby Jesus, I still get creeped out watching Hocus Pocus and Practical Magic! And you know what happened the last time I let him talk me into one of those haunted trails… I made a fool of myself thanking all of the masked men and peed in my pants.
How could we compromise? Like so many other facets of our relationship, how could we find common ground? How could I get him to fall in love with my most favorite day of the year without having to wear adult diapers or be put on Xanax?
It was then, all of those years ago, I set out on a mission. Mr. Big was going to love my Halloween. Whether he liked it or not… (queue the “dun. dun. duhhhhh”s here)
Over the years, I really have tried to compromise on our couples costumes:
Batman and the Joker: Boys like superheroes, right? Well, The Dark Knight had consumed all of 2008. And ironically enough, Batman was always my favorite superhero. I wanted to be Batman for Halloween that year so bad I couldn’t stand it. But the question was – how was I going to sell Big on letting me being Batman (the main dude) and him being my trusty sidekick (pansy-ass Robin)? “Please let me be Batman! Pleeeeease!” I begged. Yeah right, like that was gonna happen.
I had to take a different approach: the villain. Big could be my archenemy, my antagonist, the yin to my yang… my Joker. He agreed only if he could be the Joker. He was absolutely not going to be Robin.
This meant, I had to find a suitable Joker costume or my Batman garb was going back. Are you kidding me? Again, Mr. Big is a big dude, just where the hell was I going to find a Big ‘n Tall Joker costume?
Walmart. In case you are wondering, Walmart is where you find such a costume.
I was relieved. Everything came together beautifully. Heeeley (my friend/roommate from college who majored in graphic design) painted his face up perfectly and colored his hair the most ominous shade of green. We were Batman and the Joker.
Snow White and Zombie Winnie the Pooh: The following year did not go as smoothly. As it happened, during Halloween ’09 I was a brunette. I know, shocker. But it is true sweet Ballas – my light locks are maintained with a bottle and a brush.
Anyhow, it had been Big’s idea to dye my hair that summer. He had even been the man to do the honors! I know, I know, you probably do not believe me but it is true! It took three boxes of Perfect 10 – Cinnamon Red Hot dye to get rid of my platinum blonde and become a brunette.
By October, I was thrilled with all of my newly realized costume opportunities. I quickly decided on Snow White. It was going to be perfect! I had played Cinderella my whole life (no really, I’ve actually done dinner theaters and kids’ birthday parties…) and now I finally had the opportunity to be another princess! I had planned to make Sonny a Dopey (one of the seven dwarfs) costume and was convinced Mr. Big would agree to be a dwarf too. And then I got shot down… again.
“What do you mean you won’t be a dwarf? It would be hilarious, ya know, because you’re such a big dude… come on. Come onnnnn,” I argued. He wasn’t buyin’ the dwarf bit… and he sure as shit wasn’t buying a $200.00 prince costume. My patience was wearing thin. It was his idea for me to dye my hair and now he was refusing to compromise on the costume front. “Fine. You know what? Be whatever the hell you want. Sonny and I will dress up by ourselves.”
What did he choose you wonder? Zombie Winnie the Pooh.
I will spare you the details of where the Pooh costume came from but will leave you with this: Yes, it was a full body Pooh suit and yes, it was a complete surprise.
He was a train wreck. He had eye-black around his eyes, on his nose, and even on his lips. Here I was – this sweet Disney Princess carting around an even sweeter furry dwarf, and then him – Zombie Pooh.
He tried to justify the whole thing by saying, “Babe, we’re all in the Disney family.” But I didn’t care; our family Halloween pictures for 2009 were ruined.
Beer Maiden and Oktoberfest Guy: If you Google “Oktoberfest Guy” and view the first picture… that is what Mr. Big voluntarily chose for us to wear on Halloween 2010.
For the first time in years (mainly because I had graduated college), I never got around to making us plans to do anything for Halloween. It was the first year in a very long time that I did not buy a costume. I was sad. So sad that I actually went out and bought Sonny a bumblebee costume and me some wings just so we could take Mommy/Sonny pictures in the backyard.
Big knew that I was bummed about our lack of plans, so randomly, the night before Halloween he decided we would go see Byerley in Greensboro (… he was still in law school at Elon). We had to have costumes. I just could not show up to a bar the night before Halloween without so much as a fake eyelash on, so we stopped at The Spirit of Halloween store and began rummaging.
Everything I picked up he turned down. It was either “too this” or “too that.” Holy hell, it was like I was costume shopping with Honey Boo Boo. Finally, I sat down on a display and said, “I am sitting right here until you can figure out what you want to be for Halloween… princess.”
Oktoberfest Guy was the best he could come up with. Whatevs, the kid had been wandering around for an hour in this store and we had left Midget (his extra short, one-drink-away-from-being-a raging alcoholic, of a best friend) in the car with a case of beer. At this point, he could have come at me with anything and I would have agreed. Oktoberfest Guy it was. But before any purchases were made, I insisted he try his Oktoberfest Guy costume on.
“Babe, it’s a one-size-fits-all costume. It will fit fine,” he whined. “Oh no, no, no, no, buddy. You are trying this shit on.” He took it back to the dressing room and put the shorts on and pulled one overall strap over his shoulder, “Yeah, it works fine.” “Are you sure?“ I asked. Of course he was sure, after all – he. is. man.
The three of us made it down to Greensboro and immediately went to change. I will never forget the look on Big’s face when he hiked up both of those overall straps – excuse my vulgarity, but it was the look of, “Oh shit! This bitch just split my balls apart. No seriously, I legit have one nut in each pant leg.” The costume he was so proud of looked ridiculous and not to mention the whole division of assets issue.
I tried not to yell, “I told you so! I told you ‘one-size-fits-most‘!” Instead, I just smiled and said, “It looks fine. It’s… cute?” Those five words gave him the confidence he needed to walk downstairs… and then, they lost it.
His friends cackled, and pointed, and laughed, and snorted, and called him not-so-nice names. He was mortified. He thought he had done so well. He knew it would be funny but he thought it would be like “Ha-ha-ha Beerfest” funny not “Ha-ha-ha you split your sack” funny. And then they all turned to me.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa boys. Don’t be looking over at me. Remember, I had sat on a display in the middle of the store, I had waited patiently as he scoured the store like Goldilocks looking for the costume that was “juuuust right,” and I had asked “Are you sure?” when he tried the costume on all half-assed in the dressing room. Therefore, I was not taking the blame for this one.
This information only made them laugh harder.
They were laughing so hard that Big went back upstairs and refused to go out.
It took some coaxing and ego boasting before we got him to come down.
To this day, that costume is one of those “off limits” memories no one is allowed to discuss. Well, until today that is. So, on account that he’s going to kill me when he sees this, here’s to free ballin’ my friends! Cheers!
This is my life. This is my relationship. This is what I live day-in and day-out. Again, no imagination could possibly make this shit up. Not even the Twilight lady.
So, you must still be wondering how we sorted everything out. Well, if you must know…
Beer was our white flag.
I am a hostess. I love having people over for dinner. I love throwing parties. I love planning vacations, and planning get-togethers, and planning activities for a group. As a girl, I dreamed not of weddings and babies, but of Halloween parties and Friendsmases (friends-Christmas). I longed for the day that people would say, “I can’t wait for your [insert applicable holiday here] party! It is always so much fun!”
Much like most couples, Big and I bargain for things in our relationship. My dream holiday parties quickly became a bargaining chip. I’m not too sure what he got out of it (other than beer) but I’m sure it probably went something like this, “If you let me throw a party for every holiday, every year, then I’ll shut my mouth about having to live in HKY for the rest of my life if we get married.” Yes, my friends, I was willing to give up the world (literally) for my need to host holiday parties. He was sold.
Our First Annual Halloween party was held on Saturday, October 29, 2011. It was fabulous! We had a keg, and decorations, and beer pong, and tricks, and treats, and costumes galore. We had such a great little turn out and even more fun!
Big and I were Mario and Princess Peach (of the Nintendo game). Which, you would know, was another costume fight.
His pain-in-the-ass costume pickin’ came to a head when he told me he would cancel the party if his costume did not meet the following criteria:
- It absolutely had to be a bought costume. He refused to be the kid with the homemade costume.
- It absolutely had to be a plus-sized costume. (Okay, so this one I didn’t mind because he really needs the height. However, have you looked at the plus-size costumes lately? Let me save you 12 seconds – there isn’t shit in plus-size. Which leads me to…)
- We absolutely had to go as a couple. (Well, my lord. The plus-size deal had narrowed my choices from slim to nearly non-existent and now you’re telling me we absolutely have to go together. Ugh.)
Jesus H. Christ, was this kid cramping my style. I was tryin’ to be something extra neat like a lion tamer, or the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz (… even though I am deathly afraid of the movie because it really creeps me out), or a peacock and he was really doing his best to ruin it for me. That’s when we went with Mario and Princess Peach. Mario was the coolest thing that came in big boy sizes.
Our first party was such a good time. In attendance we had: a pharaoh and his Egyptian princess, a cowboy and a saloon girl, Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, Popeye, a couple of devils, a penguin, a creepy old man… hell, we even had Charlie Sheen and one of his goddesses to show up!
That year we barely tapped the keg but this year…
This year we thought we knew what to expect. We had nearly 200 Jell-O shots, a keg, and loads of treats (it was BYOT – We got the tricks, you got the treats.). Decorations were everywhere and the black lights were burnin’. Everyone was getting excited because last year had turned out so well. None of us could wait until Saturday, October 27!
This year I had bought my costume earlier than any other year of my life. Big and I only fought a tish over this year’s costume but when I got him to agree I locked it in by clicking “Buy now!” It was early September when the garment bag was FedEx’ed to the house.
A mermaid! I was finally going to be a mermaid! Big had agreed to be a pirate (kinda like the last Pirates of the Caribbean, ya know?) and I found the cutest little lobster costume for Sonny-boy. We were going to be sooooo cute!
The first beer was poured around 7:15 p.m. and people started to arrive shortly thereafter. Whitney Houston and her “bag of coke” came with Clark Kent and, I kid you not, a Beer Maiden girl. Soon we had: a gangster and a flapper girl, Barney and Betty Ruble, a Tequila Shot man (sans the tequila and shot glasses), Bobo and Scooter the clowns, G.I. Joe and G.I. Jane, a construction worker, a Ghostbuster and his friendly ghost, a Crayon, a monkey, and a viking and his viking lady. Momma and Mace even came for a bit with my little loveybug so we could get a couple family photos.
We we having so much fun. Beer was flowing and Jell-O shots were being handed out… even certain special mason jars were passed from person to person. And then 10:30 p.m. came, “We’re out of Jell-O shots!” It was like some one pulled a plug on the stereo. You know, that sound of the power shutting down. Then we were like, “Who cares?! We have a keg!” And the party raged on until…
Just before midnight, R.J. (Big’s all-time BFF and Whitney’s “bag of coke” [he was wearing a plastic baggy poncho with Coka-Cola cans taped to it… clever, no?]) started running through the house holding something large and made of steel above his head. Was it a bird… a plane… Clark Kent? Nope. It was the keg.
You could hear crickets in the room.
Last year at this time, Big was so far gone he was running through the house with only his underwear on (we hope… actually, no one really knows for sure if he was wearing anything at all). Last year, I didn’t go to bed until 3:00 a.m. because I stayed up raving to techno music with glow sticks stuffed down the bust of my dress. Last year, we woke up on Sunday morning to four pitchers of beer left in the keg.
This year, however, it wasn’t even midnight and the beer was gone. All of it. The beer, the Jell-O shots, hell, even my pigs in a blanket had been devoured. Wahhh wahhhhhh.
I remember looking at Kaley (she was the flapper girl… with a really cute tiny little gun holster around her leg) and saying, “But how will we do keg stands now?” She puckered out her bottom lip and said, “I knooow!” The party couldn’t end now! We were all scrambling trying to gather all of the liquor we could find.
But before we knew it, Captain Big had swooped in to save the day! Without anyone being the wiser, Big and the monkey had went to the gas station and brought back five cases of beer. Hooray for beer… and sober party attendees! It was like the party had been plugged back in!
We stayed up a couple more hours before we were all too tired to continue fighting the good fight. DDs began ringing the doorbell, people were passing out on the couches, and others had started to head back to their rooms. The 2nd Annual Halloween party was over.
Another party a success.
At one point during the evening, I put my arms around Big’s neck and said, “Would you have ever thought you would love Halloween this much?” “Nope.” he said.
Nothing makes me happier then getting all (… or most) of our friends together for something… anything. Whether it is Carowinds, or a haunted trail (as much as I despise them), or dinner, or a Halloween party, I love “family night.”
I love that we have each other to share our shenanigans with. I love that we have this small (… or plus-size) group of people that will be able to say, “Remember that one year when we ran the keg out before midnight?” or “Remember that one year when Midget was Bob Marley and rubbed his black off on everything he touched?” or “Remember that one year when Mr. Big wore those shorty shorts that were too tight in the crotch?” I love that.
I love that tonight, I will go to Big’s house and watch Big and Byerley pace the front room waiting on more costume-clad kids to ring the doorbell. I love that with each passing year, our parties become bigger and more extravagant. I love this stuff.
I love that one day, hopefully a day very, very far away, our kids will have a whole bunch of crazy uncles and aunties. I love that we have such a close-knit extended family. I love that we have grown up together and continue to grow old together.
So tonight, when you head out with your kids, or your nieces and nephews, or your grandchildren, or some rando kid you picked up at the bus stop… May your satchels be full of sweets. May your punkins be pretty. May your Halloween be Happy. And may your kegs stay full of beer : ).
Above: This is one of my most favorite pictures of Sonny. Last year, he was a pumpkin and I was a witch (again, just for Mommy/Sonny photo shoot purposes). The camera caught him in mid-yawn while Momma was snapping shots of us on the front stoop. However, it looks as if Mace’s Spiderman pumpkin (Last year, our pumpkins were superhero themed. Mace carved a Spiderman pumpkin, I carved a Batman one [duh], and Sammy carved Superman in hers.) gave him a fright! Happy Halloween!
Addendum: Today at work, I peeped my head over our cube wall (Yes, Big and I share a cube wall at work… how could we get so lucky… NOT.) to tell Big about what this week’s blog was going to consist of. Our conversation went like this:
MC: About today’s blog…
MC: Your balls may or may not be making an appearance.
MB: What?! How would my balls have anything to do with your blog?
MC: Well, I’m telling them about the Oktoberfest Guy costume.
MB: (Smirking) Oh. So are you telling them how sexy I looked in that thing?
MC: No. Now go back to your cube.