I’m having the scariest Halloween season ever. It’s not the haunted corn maze my roommate keeps trying to get me to see (because I definitely need another weird complex associated with vegetables). It’s not the girls who literally have to tape their body parts to make sure everything stays inside their skimpy costumes. It’s not even the inhuman number of Pumpkin Spice Lattes I’ve been drinking in preparation for the long, dark, Pumpkin Spice-less time known as “The Rest of the Year”. Those things are frightening, but the most terrifying part of this Halloween– the thing that’s been keeping me up at night in a cold sweat and haunting my dreams when I finally manage to sleep– is the sudden, horrifying epiphany I had last week.
I finally figured out what makes monsters so scary.
They’re my ex-boyfriends!
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night smiling because I’ve just had a beautiful dream about puppies and bubbles. These are wonderful moments, and if I could record the expression of joy on my face without some kind of creepy, Paranormal Activities camera set-up, I would. Then I would send it to each of you when you’re feeling down, partially to cheer you up and partially to satisfy an overpowering sense of schadenfreude.
Unfortunately, there are times when I wake up in the middle of the night thoroughly convinced that I’m actually a cancerous mass which will destroy everything it touches and die completely and rightfully alone. Someone is going to find my preserved body six years after my death, sitting in front of a computer, surrounded by Snickers wrappers and stuffed cats, empty eye-sockets pointed towards a Google search explaining how to perform the Heimlich maneuver on yourself.
For the sake of practicality and my future neighbors’ noses, I think I should find someone who will at least notice that I’ve choked on a candy bar and expired. I’ve been working on a strategy, and I think it’s finally ready to share with the world.
A Guide to Picking Attractive Strangers Up
1) Establish a firm grip.
2) Lift using your legs, not your back.
3) Ignore their protests and squirms.
Ok, seriously this time.
So You Wanna Pick Up An Attractive Stranger
– Charm them with your rapier wit. Say something cool and casual.
A personal favorite of mine is, “I…of your…do you… I love pens. I mostly use them to write but also sometimes I stab things with them. Not people! I don’t stab people! Except once I hit my brother with a shovel! But I meant, like… packages and stuff. To open them? Ha?”
– Joke with them! Did you know ugly cavemen used a sense of humor to attract cavewomen? My favorite joke demonstrates both my ability to read and memorize Laffy Taffy wrappers, and my inhuman Laffy Taffy-consumption. Yes, I really am a wonder.
There’s something I need to acknowledge. It’s taken me a long time to accept it about myself, but it’s time for me to come out and admit it. I… am a hot damn mess.
Gross May Be An Understatement
– My morning breath is awful.
– If I didn’t shave my legs, there’s a distinct possibility I’d be mistaken for a chimpanzee.
– I Hulk out when I forget to eat. Not in a cute, green-tinged, cutoff-pants kind of way, but in an incoherent, zero-to-psycho in 3 seconds flat kind of way.
– I once listened to the same Ke$ha song 23 times in a row. (She’s catchy. I hate her.)
– I made three people cry with sarcastic comments… last month.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. (If you don’t believe me, read THIS post to find out why, and this one to see why it’s going to be even longer until I get another one.) This is perfectly OK with me, partly because I grew up in a post-feminist society and I don’t need a man to complete me and stuff, but mostly because my life is so nutso right now that the very idea of having a social life is enough to give me stress dreams. My parents also have stress dreams, in which I die sad, alone, and childless.