An Introvert’s Halloween – Part 2

Part 2 – The Halloween Part (and more revelations about Carrie’s neurosis)

I just saw Megan’s comment in the previous post about how she hopes the solution to my problem is streaking with a mask on. I would like to go ahead and issue a spoiler alert that if your expectations are that high, prepare to be severely disappointed.

No. In fact, I hate masks. They are like taking a bath, you’re just stuck in this little room with your old stinky breath that you just have to keep using over and over again to breathe. I also don’t like crowds, partly because of chance of getting any attention in them and also because I’m probably slightly claustrophobic. I’m talking about how to make Halloween work for a square through and through, not letting my inner desire for flamboyancy loose.

I DID dress up for Halloween as a kid. My mom made me a Wonder Woman costume, and I mean sewed it, with Velcro and a pattern and shit. And I wish I had a picture of it but it’s six hours away. Once I hit a certain age, though, I was a punk rocker for like 4 years running. And by “punk rocker” I mean the kind who are allowed to wear their mom’s Garfield shirt because it doesn’t matter if they get glitter on it. That picture is also six hours away. I’ll be up there (North Carolina) for Halloween, so hopefully I can dig them up and share.

Next week, Tom and I are going to Disney World for our 10th wedding anniversary. And, we’re going to the Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party. I was reading all the Disney World forums about how other people plan to dress up for it. I went to this event 10 years ago on our honeymoon, and, obviously, didn’t dress up for it. But this year I thought it would be neat to at least poke the spirit of Halloween with a really long pole from afar by wearing something resembling something.

But I’m pretty much a one uniform gal: jeans, t-shirt. If it’s cold- jeans, t-shirt, hoodie. Hand on a stack of the first three Romero zombie movies: the last time I wore a skirt for anything other than church, a funeral, or a wedding, was when I was 12 years old. And the only reason I still wear skirts to these three events is because I don’t want to shop for any other appropriate clothing (my skirts are 10 years old). I also feel awkward and uncomfortable in anything other that t-shirts and jeans and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna feel more weird about looking at a giant bear’s butt on a log flume ride.

So, my solution was found when I was looking on Amazon for something that could be a costume but also in no way requires me to leave my comfort zone. And I found this:

Yes, that is a t-shirt that looks like Shaun’s work shirt from the movie Shaun of the Dead. Side note: if you haven’t seen Shaun of the Dead and you like zombie movies, or comedies, or romantic comedies, then you are missing out. And what does Shaun wear with this shirt? Black pants. And I have a pair of black jeans, which is close enough. It’s a low maintenance, sure-to-not-bring-much-attention-to-me ensemble. It’s pretty much exactly what I wear every day but with a fake tie and name tag. I often have a stain so the red doesn’t even count. Perfect. And if it’s cold that day I’ll wear a long sleeve shirt underneath and be grunge Shaun.

And, I would totally be willing to carry around a cricket bat. But, I don’t want to navigate a theme park with one. I didn’t cave on carrying a purse until well into my twenties so the utilitarian part of me doesn’t want to deal with it. And, perhaps security wouldn’t even let me bring it in. If there is a zombie outbreak at the Magic Kingdom that night, I’ll definitely be kicking myself (and several zombies). I also won’t be tucking in my shirt because that war was fought valiantly against my mom and I will not allow all that eye rolling and sighing to be in vain.

So, now, please dazzle me with all of your more interesting and exciting planned Halloween costumes because I live for that shit. I’m really glad there are less shy and extroverted people out there, because they really do make Halloween the coolest holiday.


What? No, 1950s, wanting a pair of Santa Claus slaves is totally normal. Stop worrying.

I love stuff from the 1950s and 60s (pre-hippie and avocado green). Specifically, I love Made in Japan ceramics from that era. Salt and pepper shakers, planters, figurines, Christmas decorations – I’ve got a good amount of it. Unfortunately, most of it has been packed away for a couple of years now because we tried to sell our house two years ago, I’m lazy, and we’re going to try and sell our house again someday. The upside to that is when I finally get to drag them all out of their boxes, I won’t remember half of it. It’ll be a nice surprise.

One of the reasons I really like this stuff is because it is weird. Very weird. It’s like everyone was on a post World War II high and decided to channel that through crazy kitchenware items. Luckily, two of my favorite things aren’t packed up.

First, my favorite thing, ever. This is a Holt Howard relish condiment jar (the Holt Howard line of condiment jars like this is called “Pixieware,” btw). Don’t even try to tell me you don’t want one. Back in the 1950’s, if you were a real hostess, you didn’t humiliate your guests by forcing them to accessorize their hamburgers with faceless, soulless jars and dispensers. You put condiments in a ceramic jar with a spoon too short to reach the bottom, and you put a whimsical face on that spoon, or you can fucking forget it, I’ll eat my hamburger plain.

You have to get your relish out of the jar it came in? Oh, God, I'm SO sorry.

There are tons of these jars. I own several. But this relish one is my favorite. Partly because of the colors and he has my favorite thing-that-represents-the-condiment-expression, and partly because it was a Christmas present from my sister and parents. The relish jar is rare, and my relish jar is in mint condition – so suck on that, it’ll make your breath fresh. But, I show you this only as a gateway to my second specimen. I don’t think you could have handled it by itself.

You know all those people who lament about how unequivocally awesome and more better “simpler times” were? About how “back then” you didn’t have to x, y, and z, and Back Then is the captain of the football team and Now is the slutty drop-out under the bleachers? And kick the can, apple pie, gingham tablecloths, lemonade, scooters, and Norman Rockwell? You can argue until you’re blue in the face that time moves forward, awesomeness is always a give and take/subjective – some people in the 50s thought it sucked, just like people think now sucks, etc. Or, you can just show them this picture:

Yah, Santa! Yah!

Yes. That is a blond angel, dressed to the Christmas nines, holding a giant candy cane with one hand, and wrangling two tiny Santa Claus’ on chains in the other. My sister and I inappropriately call this the “Santa slaves girl.” That came from the 1950s, y’all. In the 1950s, somebody said, “Let’s make a figurine of an angel, and let’s have her walking one, no, two Santas, each attached to a chain. You know, for Christmastime.” A more innocent time, my ass.

There’s actually a lot of big-thing-with-two-littler-things-on-chains figurines from that time. Most of them are animals – a mama and two babies of the same kind of animal. Here is one. Here is another.

Here is a lady with two sophisticated children, I’m guessing. Weird, yes, but I can see that perhaps, like the real-life modern day child leashes, that this was done for safety’s sake.

But two malnourished, failure-to-thrive Santas? On chains? Look at it!

Ok, ok. How about this – anyone who thinks that the past was a more morally “pure” time than the present, admit that this figurine is totally and completely messed up, and I’ll do you the favor of modernizing it so that you can feel comfortable that the original version is less sick. Deal?

I’m just glad we could all come to an acceptable compromise.

Why the Name Cannibalistic Nerd?

Technically, I’m a geek. Nerds do well in school. However, the candy called Nerds exists. I love Nerds. Especially the little boxes you get around Halloween. Probably because it reminds me of Halloween.

Other than Pixie Stix and that dipping powder, this is the closest thing to standing over the jar and shoveling sugar in your mouth.

Whenever I eat Nerds, my husband points at me and calls me a cannibal. He does the same when I eat shrimp, as I am short. The title Cannibalistic Nerd got in my head and I couldn’t shake it, and thought it sounded better than Cannibalistic Shrimp, and was a better description for me and what I’d probably write about.

And isn’t that kind of what nerds and geeks do? Obsess over what we like and devour it over and over again? And the line between you and the things you like gets blurrier and blurrier, etc.? No? Fine, I’m sticking with the name, though.

In reading up on starting a blog, one of the things is that you’re supposed to have a niche. I actually do have a niche blog – one of the nichiest blogs one could hope for.

I’m thinking, I can go more niche – maybe a blog of nothing but pictures of straw wrappers I compulsively knot when at restaurants.

If they are really long I fold them in half, first.

Or, I can go broad. So, I’m going broad.