I think the neighborhood kids hate me. I live 10 yards away from a playground in an area with several terrible kids who scream bloody murder at 8 a.m. at the bus stop 20 yards away from our house. I put up all these fun Halloween gel clings on our front door, sent Geo out for three bags on candy, turned on our front door light and waited for those ankle-biters to ring our doorbell all night long. But they never came.
The children never came.
We had zero trick-or-treaters. (Somehow, the mini Twix bars still disappeared from the bowl anyway.) Plus, I didn't even get to dress up this year.
I would like to think of myself as something of a costume connoisseur, and I really let my freak flag fly on Halloween. But this was the first year (I think?) that I didn't dress up and it was pretty lame. In previous years, I've dressed as everything from a mermaid, a head on a platter, a flamingo and an Amish girl on rumspringa to Slash from Guns N' Roses, J.Lo, and Suri Cruise complete with diaper. But this year, I didn't dress up as anything except Girl Who Watches TV And Eats Twix Like It's Her Job Before Seriously Considering Taking Up Bulimia.
So on top of no costumes, I also had no stupid kids in costumes bothering me all night. How rude of them. I have candy! And didn't they see the gel clings?! What more do I need to do in order to get some kids into my house? Buy a creepy old van? Whatever. Fine. Kids can hate me and point to my house and whisper that it belongs to a witch who never brushes her hair and always wears pajamas, but I can deal with it. You know why?
Because I probably have more candy than all of them. Oh, and I can drive. Zing. Nailed it. Dumb kids.