HALLOWEEN IS FOR BABIES AND DRAG QUEENS AND I AM NOT DOING THIS WITH YOU
Hallowe’en is bullshit and I will no longer be silenced.
On my next birthday I will be 986 years old, so I have lived through several Hallowe’ens and I have had fun on exactly two of them, one of which ended with me wandering around Boystown for 45 minutes sobbing in my 1983 Madonna costume because I was so drunk I couldn’t remember how to get to my own house. So in the end it doesn’t even count.
Man fuck a Hallowe’en, for real.
There are exactly three things about Hallowe’en that actually matter:
Babies in costume, such as my nephew dressed as a turtle, this baby from the internet dressed as the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, and this other baby from the internet dressed as Ruth Bader Ginsburg. I would sooner bleach my asshole with industrial paint solvent than ever have a child, but man… babies are so smol and fat and their heads really do smell extremely good for some reason IDK! The first time I met my nephew he farted on my arm and I broke down in tears like Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona. I STAN BABIES. So why would I spend even one second looking at your busted-ass Stevie WonderWoman costume you think is so hilarious when I could spend that time peeping babies dressed like aardvarks and shit on Instagram? BYE.
Drag queens. They are men dressed as women dressed as Ursula the Sea Witch dressed as Geraldine Ferraro dressed as Boutros Boutros-Ghali with a wig that holds a diorama of Virginia Woolf drowning herself in the River Ouse with real water, and you are an Accounts Payable clerk dressed as a fucking laydbug so sit down.
This Hallowe’en-themed internet video making fun of Chloe Sevigny, which incidentally is why I have spelled it that way throughout this essay except in the title because SEO.
THASSIT. The rest is some bullshit. And that, like everything terrible, is the fault of other people. Every year I go out on Hallowe’en in hopes that I’ll finally meet the bearded Chris Evans look-alike dressed up like Tracy Morgan in “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” of my dreams, only to find that person definitely doesn’t exist because his place in the cosmos has been used up by one of the following:
“Going out” on Hallowe’en is second only to New Year’s for the sheer number of clueless assholes from outer-ring suburbs descending upon the city to comport themselves like meth-addled hyenas while pretending they didn’t vote for Donald Trump. And that’s just the ones who go to straight bars. I won’t discuss what goes on in straight bars because straight people are fucking disgusting, but the contingent who turn up in gay bars are actual human nightmares. All of them are a woman from Kenosha named Tiphanni (seriously name me a single Tiffany you’ve ever met who A-spelled her name correctly and 2-wasn’t terrible. It can’t be done) who’s dressed as something like “Sexy Teresa Guidice” and spends the entire night drunkenly shrieking “DYOU KNOW HOOYAM?! SEK-SEE TREESHA SHEWDICE” until some fed-up drag queen surreptitiously hip-butts her down a flight of stairs into the arms of her gay-panicking boyfriend, Travis, whose costume definitely had a blackface component until TiyfPHanNeeYïee nixed it just as they left the house.
Straight people should be institutionalized.
Then there’s Hallowe’en Gays, who spend the other 364 days of the year as:
Gays with visible abdominal muscles who talk incessantly about their “body issues”
Theater gays who ruin the vibe at karaoke bars by incessantly singing showtunes
The former dresses up as Gay Dracula, a costume composed solely of a black jockstrap and white icing dribbling from the corners of their mouth to look like cum instead of fake blood. Hallowe’en is their favorite night because Hallowe’en Gay nakedness provides certainty that the dude they go home with won’t turn out to have accidentally eatn a croissant once in 2007 while in a k-hole and now has a nanometer of adipose tissue about their midsection. Phew!
The latter dresses up as something you’ve never heard of like some tertiary character from the 1967 Dr. Who Christmas Special, and the main element of their costume is screeching in shock when they find out you’ve never heard of the tertiary character from the 1967 Dr. Who Christmas Special. They spend the entire night forcing people to do the fucking “Time Warp.”
And as if the people weren’t bad enough, there’s the fucking EVENTS.
What is the allure? What is it? It’s the same shit as a regular party--social anxiety, intolerably high room temperature, dullards who won’t discuss how the tyranny of late-stage capitalism and the rise of Donald Trump have radicalized you into a person whose search history contains the phrase “how to seize the means of production” because they’re quote-unquote “just trying to have a good time tonight”--except there’s the added effort, cost and anxiety of having to come up with a Hallowe’en costume that hides your slaloming adiposity AND captures the zeitgeist AND follows your budget of 50 cents or less. WHO CHOOSES THIS WHEN SOBBING INTO A PLATE OF PIZZA ROLLS WHILE “The O.C.” PLAYS ON HULU IS AN OPTION? WHO?!
And I hear you screaming, “JUST DON’T DRESS UP AND GO ENJOY YOUR FRIENDS’ COMPANY FFS,” as if you aren’t the very type of motherfucker who harangues people like me by yelling “VODKA IS ONLY FOR COSTUMES LOSER LOL” every time I make a drink as if it is an established inside joke between me and you, a stranger dressed like Sexy Martin Sheen I have met one time 15 minutes ago. I fucking see you.
There’s nothing like the time-honored tradition of going over to a friend’s house for cocktails and delicious snacks you can’t drink or eat because both of your hands are engaged in disemboweling and sawing through an enormous gourd that weighs more than you do and then spending 45 minutes afterward cleaning up after yourself. THESE ARE NOT PARTIES. They are forced-labor camps wherein you bamboozle us into cleaning your hardwood floors sans recompense. I’m not fucking stupid.
HORROR MOVIE PARTIES
Horror movies are dumb. Sorry, they’re dumb. I don’t begrudge anyone the shit they like (okay yes I do, that is literally the entire crux of this essay), but most horror movies are not scary, everyone in them is always terrible at acting, and the stories are preposterous. Worse still are horror fans, who behave as if horror movies are somehow sacrosanct. I have a dear friend who actually once got mad at me and another friend for laughing at the horror movie she made us watch against our will. This hoe was out here acting like we weren’t giving Sears Craftsman Circular Saw Murders 2: Electric Boogaloo its proper respect and man, just get the entire hell out of here, I told you I wanted to watch The Umbrellas of Cherbourg so you should’ve tempered your expectations.
In closing, I’d like to make the following points about Hallowe’en that do not need elaboration because they are basic, essential truths. The facts are these:
Your couples costume sucks. Yes, even the Bill and Monica costume you squirted Elmer’s Glue on to look like jizz, Brenda. That shit hasn’t been funny since fiscal ‘99.
Halloween candy is THE SAME FUCKING CANDY THAT’S AVAILABLE YEAR-ROUND THE ONLY THING MISSING IS THE BLACK-AND-ORANGE COLOR SCHEME ON THE BAG LITERALLY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS???
Rocky Horror Picture Show ain’t shit. It’s fine! But that’s it. CALMDOWNAND DO NOT@ ME
So that’s it. Hallowe’en is for babies and drag queens and I am not doing this with you. Wake me up when the turkey’s done on November 22 so I can make the gravy you always fuck up. Happy Hallowe’en!