Halloween.

I’m a couple days late on a Halloween post. Woops.

First of all, we carved some wicked cool pumpkins. And by “we” I mean Christian and our friend Griffin. Kaitlyn and I were far too busy picking pumpkin seeds out of pumpkin goo to be bothered with such a task. Here’s how I truly feel about pumpkin carving:

1.) The smell of pumpkin goo makes me queasy.

2.) Touching pumpkin goo makes me queasy.

3.) Carving pumpkins sure is a lot of work. Christian had to put in a lot of effort.

4.) It’s easy to burn pumpkin seeds.

5.) If you don’t burn the pumpkin seeds they’re delightful with a touch of garlic salt.

6.) I love pumpkin bars, who cares if the pumpkin I used came in a can and not from the pumpkins we carved.

7.) Glowing pumpkins make it all seem worthwhile.

Also, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at the creepy pedophiles that give poison candy out or kidnap kids or take pictures of kids for their creepy pedophile urges. They are ruining Halloween. All I wanted was to hand out some candy. Even just 1 piece and let me tell you, not one little kid came to ring the door. Not a one. I was heartbroken and due to my misery would like to stage a beat down on all the fruit cakes that ruined Halloween and the fun of handing out candy.

I mean it’s just peachy that churches have created “safe” Halloween activities and trick or treat opportunities, but really, isn’t the joy in Halloween going door-to-door for hours collecting candy just to get home and have your parents peruse it for “unsafe” candy also known as the candy they want to eat? What fun is it to go through a mini-town of fake doors getting the same candy from each? Boring. Plus, who doesn’t like the adventure in trying to find the candy that’s already been opened? Mwahaha.

On another note, it has been brought to my attention that in Des Moines, IA  the kids have to tell a joke to get a piece of candy. Please read here. So, after we beat down the creep-o’s and reinstate a good ‘ol Halloween with trick or treating, let’s make the kids tell jokes, ok? Preferably with them ending in “Your mom” or “My butt”. Yes, I’m actually a 10-year-old trapped in a 24 year old’s body.

In other news, I’ve completely resisted going to target to buy their discounted Halloween crap. Please pat me on the back.