Dancing naked to The Monster Mash & other adult activities

This is the time of year to reminisce about all my Halloween memories. Ready? We shut off all the lights and stayed in the basement when trick or treaters came by (Our Church didn’t believe in keeping Halloween – nor did they approve of my idea to combine Thanksgiving and Halloween into a “Harvest of Dead” festival). In later years we would go out to empty restaurants while others drank and partied with the type of debauchery I so yearned for.

This weekend, while everyone else went to parties, we invited some people over for Thanksgiving. It wasn’t really Thanksgiving, since the date falls between the Canadian and US dates, but represented “that day at which Linda’s need to cook a turkey could no longer be denied.” This meant that our apartment had to be cleaned, which is a week long job, since neither of us are blessed with “love to clean” inclination and after an hour or two of cleaning we tend to flop down and do Sudoku’s. We were forced (for a week) into new and painful behaviors like: Doing ALL the laundry, instead of an emergency load when you have run out of underwear and forced to wear the thongs and sexy stuff; Doing the dishes AFTER you eat, instead of when we run out of utensils (which is why we only keep a few utensils). Doing the dishes twice a week sucks, but doing them everyday sucks even more. Also for a week there was no more “stripping out of clothes, leaving them everywhere as we dance naked.” That whole, “a place for everything and everything in its place” idea is a real killjoy. I did however enjoy vacuuming. I did it with the free vacuum we snagged from the trash – yes, the belts on it scream so loud the neighbors bang on the wall, and since it was from a hair salon our entire place smells like perm solution for six hours after vacuuming but that just adds to the whole excitement, danger, mind-altering fumes of the experience.

That Saturday, we cooked, we baked, we mashed things, we microwaved and did all those debates one does when people come over: Should we put out the “good” glasses or the ones we got free from gas stations? Should we use paper plates or Corell? And who would get the broken chair that sinks lower and lower as the night goes on (that would be ME!). They were late coming because the home baked pumpkin pie had flipped over onto the floor of the car. We had wine, they brought chocolate flavoured vodka (ug?). The men quickly obsessed over my 600 DVD collection left over from the heydays of my life as a rare DVD supplier. No one noticed the gigantic 200 year old bookcase taking up an entire wall. The ice was broken quickly when people started telling their stories of going to strip clubs, and Linda’s friend told of her first time and how when the woman took off the last piece of clothing she was a little shocked, as it was the first time she had seen that. “That was the FIRST time you had seen a woman naked?” I asked her confused. Things kind of degenerated after that; we educated men on what The Rabbit was, and our Rubber Ducky was brought from the bathtub to display his awesome vibrating powers. I got the guys talking in rapturous tones about their game systems while their female partners looked more and more like wanting to strangle them. They talked about their favorite TV shows while I educated them on which characters were gay and which were secretly sleeping with who in the Beth’s Queer World version. So, all in all, a nice adult evening, almost lifted from the dirty and queer friendly version of ThirtySomething (or for those in the UK, the TV show This Life).

Sunday was recovery, since I felt more beat up than after epee. After all, epee is only 2.5 hours a night max, while with the cleaning, cooking, etc this was a 14 hour event. We had leftovers and watched enough of House Season 2 to glare at most men walking with canes and make vows to each other never to be taken to THAT hospital. The show House is a lot like a Romance, since we know the ending (patient lives) the only interest is in seeing how the obstacles are overcome to arrive at the ending. Except most romances don’t have Lumbar Punctures and six feet of tubing shoved up the colon...at least I hope not. So that was the weekend, doing the adult thing. I am glad to say that I DID, Sunday morn, strip off all my clothes, leaving them scattered about the living room as I danced naked to The Monster Mash. Linda closed the blinds. I just don’t think she’s gotten into the spirit of Halloween yet.

(Bonus Reader Halloween game here)