A young professional’s take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.
By Nina Pajak
Humbug and cheez-doodles. Is it Halloween already? Again? Every year with this stuff.
Actually, I do like the bones (ha ha) of Halloween as an “adult.” Getting dressed up like a dweeb (a sexy dweeb), binging on candy like one of those kids whose mother never kept sugar in the house, and going to and/or throwing parties with themed drinks and novelty paper goods. Fun!
But the older I get, the more tired I become just thinking about this holiday. First of all, there’s the annual costume dilemma, which typically involves weeks of noncommittal thinking ultimately resulting in a frantic last-minute search and either a $100 expenditure or an all-nighter forced on my one friend who knows how to sew. Then of course, the number of people I know willing to host a Halloween party is beginning to dwindle as we get older and our apartments and furniture get nicer, so there’s always the chance that the whole effort is pointless, anyway.
I’m being grouchy, as I always get around October 28th when I have no costume and no plans. Because no costume and no plans mean I have no reasonable excuse to eat pounds of candy but will do so anyway. Because, you know, how sad would that be? So I’ll have to simply sit in my apartment and eat all the chocolate I bought “for the trick-or-treaters.” And we never even get trick-or-treaters! Can I tell you how much I’d love it if we did? How does one go about getting some? I can decorate my door until it’s no longer visible, but nothing is going to help the fact that the only children in my building are Israeli, and if an elderly person comes ringing my bell in a costume looking for candy it’s time to call an ambulance.
Extra: More Halloween Coverage
Full disclosure, I did buy Gus a costume. I know! I know. I hang my head in shame. It’s a “dapper dog” tuxedo which looks more like Mosley the Butler’s outfit from the BBC’s “Downton Abbey,” and it’s approximately three times too small for my dog and non-returnable. So now he just has a Halloween bowler hat which I put on his head every few days and then immediately remove due to intense feelings of guilt and disappointment in myself. Uh, not before I snap a few photos, of course.
I suppose I will just dress as someone who loves her pajamas and has a dog who wears formal headgear, and we (I) will eat a bag of Snickers peanut butter and then go watch the pub crawls filled with people wearing that repulsive Anthony Weiner costume that features a fake scrotum hanging out of a pair of boxer shorts. People! Gross. Vulgar ≠ funny. Not to mention, it’s inaccurate. Let’s keep it classy: webcam, boxer-briefs, banana. Done.
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Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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