Unfinished Blogness

Hey there 'Redheads... One of these blogs, I swear it won't be necessary for me to apologize for my abject neglect. That blog is coming, but it ain't this one... Sorry for the unacceptable lag in updates. Once again, it's been proven that I can't wait to procrastinate. Blogtober ended up with a downright paltry three entries, without a decent Halloween blog. Well, in an effort to snake out all of the backlogged blather, I give you a blog so bloated, so crammed to the gills, that it may too much for your eyes to handle in one sitting. You may need a bloggy bag. I've got enough stuff here to fill 3 or 4 installments. I'm of two minds as to how I should foist this upon you. Either I'll give it to you in three heaping helpings over the week or I'll combine all of it into a blog Devastator. We'll see how quickly carpal tunnel sets in. Onward...

I hope everyone had a happy Monday. I've never understood why Mondays get such a bad rap. If your life is so crappy, that you cease to have fun once the week starts, maybe it's not just time that isn't your friend. I digress. This blog is about living in the then. Specifically, the then of roughly a week ago, Halloween. Like with everything else, I waited 'til the last minute and between plans and potential costume ideas, I was waffling more than the breakfast buffet at the Belgian Embassy. Luckily, my buddy Seth came through for me with a costume...

I was a glow-in-the-dork. Comic book fans will recognize me as the mechanized millionaire playboy, Tony Stark...if he were a nebbishy tub of goo. Once the costume was set, I needed a place to get my 'ween on. If nothing materialized, I would've been more than happy with checking out a good zombie movie, like Zombieland or This Is It. Thankfully, since my friends haven't tired of me just yet, I was allowed to tag along to a party in DC. I must admit, I thoroughly enjoyed hailing cabs with my light-up hand piece. We got to the party, which was being held in a one bedroom apartment...with a DJ. The place was packed, loud, and hot, three things that aren't necessarily conducive to fun for me, since I'm a closet claustrophobic. I felt sorry for the people with large, unwieldy costume elements, like my buddy Joe, who went as Captain America, including the shield. Or my girlfriend, who went as an art gallery, which consisted of a sandwich board of two canvases...

The bulk of my evening was spent explaining either who I was or how my costume worked. The get up was much more impressive in the dark, but even then there were a bunch of people, mostly ladies, who had no clue. One gal, when I told her I was Iron Man, responded, "The race?" There was a surprising lack of dead celebrities in attendance. The only one I spotted was a David Carradine, in a Japanese robe and tasteful noose. There was no shortage of fellow crime fighters...

There was a small shortfall on dignity.

In the spirit of Halloween, such as it is on November 9th, here's Sherman Helmsley (before he started calling plays for the Redskins) with a public service message...

My internet connection is being moody, so I'll stop here and opt for the measured helpings throughout the week. Plenty more on the way. 'Til then...