I’m a little off my game this year.  Usually, as soon as the turkey’s carved and the coma overcome, the Halloween decorations go up.  I go bigger for Halloween than I do even for Christmas; orange cobwebs outside, skull and jack o’lantern lights, cauldrons with candy and apples, spooky window clings, all that jazz.  I just like Halloween; it makes me giggle to see mobs of little Christians running around doing the single most pagan thing they could think of.  Next thing you know, sacrificing goats will be all the rage.  Except, wait, the goat is the devil’s mascot, right?  Bum deal for Satan, man.  I mean, a goat?  Really?  The Grand Master of All Things Evil got saddled with a smelly, hair, funny looking animal who’s milk tastes like creamed sour apples?  Sucks to be him.  He should have gone with a squirrel.  Those things are wicked.

So far, I haven’t even busted the box of decorations out of the storage closet yet.  There are SPIDERS in there, yo.  And costumes?  Ugh.

I didn’t celebrate Halloween as a kid, but I had this notion that kids just cut holes in sheets and ran around with Safeway bags in their hands collecting candies.  Either times have changed or I am a M.O.R.O.N. because I always end up caving in and dumping mega bucks on clever and licensed costumes.  Really, you should see my costume box.  You could costume the next Bill and Ted movie with its contents.

This year, my boys want to be a Jedi Knight and a Storm Trooper.  Not so bad, right?  Star Wars costumes are classic, go-to costumes, right?  They just released that Clone Wars movie, right? I should be able to find a Jedi Robe anywhere, right?

Please, take a moment to laugh at my procrastinating ass.

First of all, it’s not Storm Trooper anymore.  It’s Clone Trooper.  You might as well say Rotary Phone to these people.  “Excuse me, I need a Storm Trooper costume.”  “Like, does that require fishnets? *smacks bubble gum*”  UGH. I headed out yesterday to get the costumes.  Four hours and five stores later, no dice.  I googled it and found a store in Vancouver that claimed to carry Star Wars costumes and didn’t require either ovary as payment, so I went there today.  The very nice man with 16 extra holes in his face first told me Nope and then helped me by calling around to the Big Halloween Store in Vancouver.  Who had ONE Anakin costume and a few Clone Trooper costumes left.

Um?  Anakin is a whiny pussy.  I’m going more Obi Wan and Boba Fett.

So, I gave up and went to the Toys R Us at the Big Mall.  I took 3of3 with me because she’s been passed out on the couch for 3 days and I hoped the fresh (mall) air would do her some good.  And I wore my hot boots.  Because. So I’m dragging around an almost but not quite sick toddler who hasn’t seen the outside world in 3 days whilst wearing 3 inch heeled boots through a mall bigger than DisneyLand a week before Halloween at lunchtime.  I’ve done smarter things in my life.

We get through the parking garage, up to the main mall level, find the You Are Here signs which are shockingly unhelpful unless you understand their particular color coding scheme, which I don’t, and start wading through the throngs of senior citizens, toddlers and social misfits out for a stroll at the mall.  We pass one of those merry go round things right outside of the D&D store, and 3of3 has to have a ride or her precious little head will explode, so we hop on and ride it while Mr Unregistered Pedophile Dude totally checks her out from the entrance of the D&D store.

And then we start looking for Toys R Us and get stuck behind Stroller Brigade in the hall, and everyone has ice cream and french fries but her, and suddenly her appetite resurfaces, but all she wants is blue water.  So we buy blue water and take a seat in the couchy area in the middle of the mall so I can get off my feet that are fucking KILLING me because I never wear shoes at all, let alone fuck-me boots she can drink in peace.  All around us, to the left, to the right, are sleeping seniors.  SLEEPING.  They all have their shoes off and their ankle high nylons are all propped up on the ottomans in the middle of the lounge area, and they are SLEEPING IN THE MALL.  I look around for sleeping gas taps or Vulcans, but didn’t find any, so we move on.  And we pass Mr Unregistered Pedophile Dude again.  I give him a glare and we continue.

We get to ToysRUs, which is ever so conveniently located in the basement, BEHIND the haunted house, and there they are.  Star Wars costumes.  Queue angels singing and clouds parting.  I grab a STORM Trooper costume consisting of a $2 piece of dyed white fabric and a $3.50 foam “helmet” and halfway to the check-out I look at the price tag.  $49.99.  I just spent $5.99 on a Gap sweater at the thrift store and felt the slightest bit bad about it.  Needless to say, we left empty handed.

We start heading out, and we pass the world’s tallest vending machines which contain $2 plastic toy puppies.  3of3 pleaded for one in her best “I so sick, momma” voice, so we stopped at the lotto counter to get change for one.  We’re standing in line behind someone, and this sweet little old lady walks up to our left, just as 3of3 takes off to run back over to the vending machines.  I nod at the woman and smile, then start calling for the toddler, and I step forward one step just to make sure that darling senior knew I was still waiting my turn.  She steps one step forward, too.  I step another 1/2 step forward, and she hip-checks the dude at the counter to budge her way up.  Meanwhile, I am still calling for my kid and out of the corner of my eye I see Mr Unregistered Pedophile Dude slowly making his way through the crowd.  I panic slightly, I think for a second of leaving the line and grabbing her, but I could see her, she was 5 steps away from me, and I hadn’t decided yet if Hockey Grannie and I were going to fight on the ice or not yet.  Just then, a little Asian woman comes up behind Hockey Grannie and gives me the look.  The I’m totally next, youngin’ look.  Now, I guess this woman was in her 60’s or so, but those little Asian women, they age like Twinkies.  She could have been 25 for all I know.  So, I sized it up.  Call offsides on Hockey Grannie, stick tackle Twinkie Lady, and get my change, or be a good person and let them get to their Keno already.

The thing is, if I asserted my place in line, Hockey Grannie and Twinkie Lady would be sharing a million dollat jackpot right now, because that’s how karma works, yo.  So I let them have their stolen place in line, and I bought $6 in lottery tickets which I will totally shove in their butting faces when I win.  Yeah.

Are you fucking kidding me?  I wade through 6 stores and 6 hours of hot dog costumes, themed prostitute costumes, more Batman costumes than are allowed by law, bunnies, Doras, motherfucking Lazytown costumes, and I can’t get a Jedi costume?  I have to pay more for a STORM Trooper costume than I would for a decent blow job?  Come, now.  I have to fend off pushy old woman, dodge rapists, BUY LOTTERY TICKETS and still my kids have no costumes?  AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGG.  It’s not like I wanted a Q*Bert costume or anything.  I just wanted a brown robe and a white jumpsuit.

Now I’m stuck with an 8 year old who settled on dressing up as Criss Angel.  Fuck you, Halloween.