Blue, Red and Black

You know that feeling you get when you find a doggy bag all tied up with something brown in it, and you’re all like, “Disgusting! Who the hell would leave a bag of poop in the office!?” Then you realize it’s a party favor from your mountaineering club, referencing blue bag jokes that mountaineers never tire of, and then you open the baggie and it has a brownie bite which is still fresh. That just happened. And it was delicious.

I’ve been missing because I’m actively avoiding writing my school application essays and thus writing of any kind. Which means I’ve been reading a LOT. A customer at my restaurant brought me a book by an author he really loves, Christopher Moore. While I turned him to reading Sandman by Neil Gaiman.

I like Moore, but he has a thing for annoying goth girl characters. When he writes from the girls’ point of view it makes you want to stick a pen in your eye, much like the time I found my old diary that I started back in middle school, and got the bright idea to read it. Some memories are not meant to be treasured. I threw the damned thing away, out of shame.

Halloween just came and went. Did you get a dressed up? As with all six years before, Halloween is my sister’s restaurant’s anniversary party, so it what I’ve been doing every year since she opened. Every year that passed, more and more people showed up in costume that gets more elaborate. This year, she decided to do an “Angels + Devils” theme.

The boyfriend’s and my original plan was for him to go as the devil and me as the angel, because that’s what I am. Even if the boyfriend was to say, I’m really more a bitch than an angel, but you know, he’s the devil, so you can’t really take his word for it.

Because I forgot that it’s after Labor Day and also that all white is a color reserved for only the¬†emaciated¬†types, I ordered an all white angel costume. The costume came in the mail and I put it on, only to realize cheap costume material in white = making every part of your body look like fat rolls. Honestly, I have an aggrandized self body image, and even I had to admit that I looked more beached-whaley than sexy-angelly in that costume. I threw that damned thing away, out of shame. If I could find a place to burn it, without having to clean the gross melted polyester mess after, I would have.

In the end, we both went as devils. My sister went as a dark angel. I will never ever go in full body paint again. Not so much because it meant that I was walking around in hardly anything, because you know, I really don’t actually have much shame left, but because I was finding patches of red paint many days and showers later.

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