Halloween 2014 (A True Story)

The Matchmaker from Mulan. A Luchador. And La Roux.

The Matchmaker was white, the luchador was a short girl, and La Roux was a straight man.

But anything goes on Halloween.

Halloween is my FAVORITE.

The night began at a party they had helped plan themselves.

People were there, food was good, music was bumpin'...

But they needed more.

Sometimes a person needs to run around, jump off of things, kick walls, and yell as loud as possible. There were three of these people at the party.

La Roux and Luchador found each other first. Dancing maniacally quenched the rage for a short time, but soon it was not enough.

La Roux mentioned trick-or-treating. Without a second thought, they were sprinting around the neighborhood collecting candy and doing cartwheels. Oh, to be a kid again!

Four houses was enough. Candy, pencils, glow sticks, and the rush of nighttime Autumn air was all they needed.

Amped, they returned to the party and stashed their treasures.

There, they discovered Matchmaker, who was also itching for adventure. There was a whole Halloween world out there, and this unlikely band of costumed crazies needed to discover it!

They decided to run around doing anything and everything they could.

Bolting around Provo, La Roux cat-called and body-rolled for anyone we saw. Luchador leaped and screamed. Matchmaker karate-kicked every passing object.

THIS IS WHERE IT GETS NUTS.

(Also, switching from "they" to "we" because this is getting hard.)

The first promising thing we we came across was a church building. The building thumped and laser lights shot out of the second-story windows. There was obviously a party happening. And it was about to get crashed. We busted down the doors and confidently entered. The first level was full of those partiers that value well-lit areas, conversation, and food over dancing. They mulled about, talking to each other. We immediately passed through them and headed for the madness, but not before we noticed something. 

Every person in the building was Asian.

We shrugged it off and entered the dance anyway. Everyone there was Asian, too, but it didn't matter! It was dark and we were dancing our butts off. Plus what's the point of crashing a party unless you obviously don't belong there?

Suddenly, the music stopped and the lights came on. We briefly panicked. We were impostors! But we played it cool by keeping our heads down. Somebody at the front of the room started talking. He announced a costume contest. We had not been discovered. 

BUT WAIT. A...costume contest, you say? At an Asian party? How terribly, horrifically perfect. Luchador and La Roux turned to look at Matchmaker, sly grins on our faces. Matchmaker wasn't about to enter the contest. So, thinking quickly, Luchador offered to join with her. We headed for the front.

But alas, this story contains betrayal! Luchador turned around at the last second, letting Matchmaker unknowingly join the contest alone!

The announcer went down the line one-by-one, presenting each contestant to the crowd. We quickly learned that he knew each of them by name.

"Here we have so-and-so, as Katniss Everdeen!" *cheers* "Next up is so-and-so, as Queen Elsa!" *cheers*

Then he got to Matchmaker. He said nothing, just unceremoniously pointed at her. La Roux and Luchador went nuts. Everyone else politely clapped.

The winner was announced and they turned the lights back off. We found each other and left the building faster than The Flash can tie his shoes.

Once outside, we busted up. Our white friend had just joined an Asian party costume contest, dressed as an Asian. YOU CAN'T WRITE THIS STUFF.

We had just gotten a taste of party crashing. So we headed to the infamous Village, where annoying, rich people live and throw big parties. But it was a straight-up GHOST TOWN. I'm pretty sure an actual tumbleweed rolled through the empty courtyard. Odd, to be sure, but something even more odd was approaching from the North.

Nearing us was a large group of people dressed normally except for their masks. They were all wearing either Unicorn masks or Panda masks. Without really thinking, we joined their ranks. Were they a terrifying cult? Maybe. But we followed them anyway.

They approached a house party. It became clear that this cult was not invited to the house party any more than we were. We all entered together, parting the guests like the Red Sea. Then we danced our butts off for about 60 seconds, while everyone watched. Unicorn, Panda, Luchador, Matchmaker, La Roux, it didn't matter. Together, we were the Unicorn Crasher Cult.

Without a word, we left the house, leaving the guests confused and probably annoyed. One of the Unicorns took off her mask. A long-lost friend of Matchmaker and Luchador! We hadn't seen her in ages, and we didn't know she'd joined a party-crashing Unicorn/Panda cult. Twas truly a Halloween miracle.

We separated ourselves from the cult. Party crashing was something we could get behind, but we weren't sure what the other cult beliefs were. We made our way back home, parkouring through The Village.

As we cartwheeled passed a large window, we glanced inside and noticed a rich girl and a rich guy sitting on the couch watching a scary movie. Guy had is arm around Girl, and was obviously paying more attention to her than the movie. Girl stared blankly at the screen. Both seemed a little nervous. They didn't see us staring at them through the window.

(Let me...justify this. Yes, we were watching people through their window. And yes, that is creepy. But hang on a second. This was OK for the following four reasons. 1) Anything creepy is legal on Halloween. 2) The blinds were not shut. So if they really wanted privacy they could've had it. 3) The window was by the sidewalk, so we technically we weren't trespassing. 4) Because of the public window placement, we didn't seek this out. The opportunity presented itself.)

Then, AS WE WATCHED, Guy made his move. He leaned in to kiss Girl. Right as they were about to make contact, La Roux banged on the window.

We ran away, just a few yards, until we knew they couldn't see us. We thought we were safe. But Guy was much angrier than we expected. He shouted terrible, horrifying threats and started climbing out the window!!

We booked it, not stopping to breathe or look behind us until we were safely at home.

I woke up the next morning, still in costume, with candy wrappers on my bed and glow sticks in my hair.

The only photo evidence of the night.

I know you don't care about any of this. But it's important to me, Riley, and Kevin so whatever. WOOPS I mean Luchador, Matchmaker, and La Roux.

Luchador and La Roux dated shortly after this, so the Matchmaker did her job I guess.

1 Thing a Person Can Do to TRULY Be More Attractive

Disclaimer: I am biased. I am a nobody.

As I sit here examining the dark, thick hair on my arms, wearing my push-up bra, and binging on Netflix, I'm reminded of the one thing a man (or woman) can do to TRULY be more attractive.

1. Don't make a list of attributes for a person that does not exist. Instead, try getting to know a person and then learn to love them.

If you get to know a person and it doesn't work out, then awesome. Move on.

But don't go around trying to fill the mold of ideals that you think will make you happy. Because we don't know as much as we think we do.

I'm not trying to make excuses for selfish (or abusive) people that won't change. I just think that everyone should start things with an open mind and few expectations. You might will be surprised.

I'm not wise, but if I've learned two things in my young life, it's that people are never what they seem, and I am often wrong.

I've learned (the hard way) that people change your mind.

I've learned that the people who admit their mistakes are often the best people I know.

I've learned that, even when we're not pretending to be perfect, we're pretending that we're fine with it. It's ok to feel broken.

I've learned that I'm still learning.

It's ok to look for a kind, charitable, interesting person. But this isn't a thing that people need to be made aware of. Everyone is already trying to find/be a good person. Kindness isn't something that belongs on a list with something like "remove your disgusting and totally natural/normal body hair even though it's not really something you can control."

I could make a specific list of things I find attractive. But you know what? That changes as I get to know people. It really, really does. My list from 5 years ago would definitely not be my list now.

And that's normal. Because guess what, even if you found a person that completely embodies every item on your list, they aren't going to be that way forever. People change. People improve. They improve in ways you didn't know were possible or desirable.

I'm Dating Myself

I really must apologize to any one of my friends or family members who may not already know about my current relationship, but it's about time we made this thing public.  Of course by "we" I mean "me" because I am dating myself.  I've been on-and-off for over 22 years now.  I finally made a sort of commitment about three years ago, when I took myself on my very first real date.  I'll admit I was not my first choice, but when nobody else accepted my invitation to the movies, I settled for me.  I was a bit nervous about what people might think when they saw me with myself, but I ending up being quite proud to stroll into a theater full of middle-aged men with me on my arm.  I saw "Captain America: The First Avenger" and had a really good time.

 After the movie, I couldn't stop raving about how much I loved it.  I opened up quite a bit and told myself all about my fascination with WWII history and American culture of the 1940's.  I even went so far as to tell me that I am hopelessly, indescribably patriotic.  Surprisingly, I was not turned off by my passionate soliloquy about Jazz and super heroes.  In fact, I surprised myself by stopping at Walmart on the way home to buy a Captain America poster for my bedroom wall.  I held my hand for the first time in the juice aisle.  Small things like that are what keep my relationship so strong.

I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been a rocky road.  I've had a few crushes that really jeopardized the stability of my relationship.  I even broke up with myself once or twice to try dating other people, but it never worked out.  I’m just glad I was able to take myself back after what must have seemed like ultimate betrayal.  Me and myself have been exclusive for quite a while now, and my relationship is stronger than ever.

When “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” came to theaters a few weeks ago, I decided it would be the perfect thing to celebrate my first real anniversary since getting back together.  I planned it all in secret, buying the movie tickets the morning of opening day and canceling all of my evening plans.  I then spent the morning getting all spiffed up; I wanted to look nice.  Feeling great in my newest pair of overalls, I picked myself up from work, which was a real surprise. 

When I came out of work and saw my car sitting there waiting, it was all I could do to keep from breaking out my disco ball and channeling my inner Kevin Bacon into a dance of excitement.   It had been a while since I went on a real date.  I had been spending a lot of time in the library and calling it a date, but I knew it was a poor excuse.  I needed to get out and do something fun.  It was like I read my mind.

I took myself to the Wendy’s drive-through.  I know it sounds cheap, but I have a real history with myself at Wendy’s.  The first few times I really opened up to myself were over Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers, and some of my biggest arguments with myself were smoothed over with a famous relationship-mending chocolate Frosty.  This time, however, was all celebration.  I was not holding back and I wanted to let myself know.  I told myself I could order anything I wanted, even if it wasn't from the dollar menu.  I don’t like to spoil myself, but I think splurging occasionally is an important way of letting me know that I really am committed to the relationship.  I smiled at myself and ordered one of the fancy chicken sandwiches that Wendy’s is almost kind of known for.

I don’t know if you could call me superstitious, but I’ll admit that I believe in many things that most people don’t.  Sasquatch, for example, is something I’m convinced is completely real.  I think I saw one coming out of a Yellowstone bathroom once.  If I’m not mistaken, this was the subject of my first real argument with myself that led to sharing my first chocolate Frosty.  Maybe it’s because I’m too imaginative, but I totally believe in almost all things supernatural.  Maybe it’s because I watch a lot of the television show “Supernatural.”  At any rate, it was for this reason I got really nervous when I pulled up to the drive-through window and the cashier repeated my total, “$6.66.”

I thought about canceling the date and taking myself home.  It sounds silly now, but at the time I thought for sure this was a bad omen, and on my anniversary!  My mind was racing with thoughts of everything that could go wrong.  How could I enjoy “Captain America” if my chicken sandwich was somehow infected with a rare disease from the Amazon that rendered me incapable of seeing the color blue?  What if the Sasquatch was angry with me for ratting on him about the Yellowstone bathroom and he showed up at the theater intending to take me prisoner?  My head was spinning with fear and the Wendy’s cashier was getting ready to call for backup when I thought of a plan.  I handed her $6.67 and drove away, happily singing along to my favorite song that just happened to come on the radio.  The date was going to be okay.

I took the meal back to my apartment, where I could eat it in intimate privacy:  my roommates were gone for the night and I knew I could be alone.  I thought about turning on some mood music, but the moment passed when I surprised myself with a gift.  It was totally unexpected, and I felt a little guilty for not thinking to get myself a gift in return.  Regardless, I hastily opened the package.  Again, it was like I read my mind.  Inside was the cutest new swimsuit I had ever seen.  It was like I somehow knew that my old swimsuit was starting to wear out.  I’m just always on the same page as myself, which is how I know this relationship is more than just a fling.  It was the perfect surprise.

I thanked myself and we departed for the movie theater.  I remembered how seeing the first Captain America movie had been a major boost in my confidence about the relationship.  I had seen the first showing of the morning on opening day in a theater in a small suburban town.  The theater at that time was filled with nothing but middle-aged, overweight men that may or may not have quit their jobs to see the movie and most definitely smelled like cheap burritos.  I couldn't help being super proud of the fact that I was the only female there, not to mention my hot date.

The experience of the Captain America sequel was a bit of a different story.  I saw it in the evening on opening day in a college town.  The theater was filled with small groups of freshman girls gawking at Captain America’s perfectly styled hair and young, good-looking couples who were obviously on first dates.  I’ll admit I felt a little bit intimidated by the freshness of all the relationships compared to my long-lasting one.  I had grown increasingly afraid over the previous few weeks that what I had with myself was growing stale.  Just as I took my seat, however, I realized that the stand-alone group of attractive young men was staring at me with jealousy in their eyes.  They were jealous that I was on a date with myself, and I knew it.  I instantly felt confident in the relationship once again.  My date was a hot commodity.

Throughout the movie, I kept making attempts to hold my hand before chickening out.  It shouldn't have been hard, seeing as I had held my hand several times before, but something about the pressure of an anniversary made it difficult.  I was relieved when I was the one who took the initiative to hold my hand instead.  I enjoyed the movie through and through.  It couldn't have been a more perfect date.

            Since then, I've been getting a lot of questions from friends and family as to whether I think this relationship is the real deal.  I can’t say for sure yet, because I've decided to take things slow.  I can’t help but worry, however, that staying in a relationship with myself forever would ultimately make me unhappy.  I’ve forced myself to think through all the possible outcomes.  Not including the ones where the Sasquatch kills me or I go missing after hunting for the perfect chicken nugget, there are three scenarios I think are the most likely.

            The first scenario is that I stay with myself and it works out really well.  I go on to be the writer/producer of a successful television sitcom.  I’m super supportive of my career.  I don’t have any children, but I become good friends with the old Greek lady across the street that collects pictures of Sandra Bullock and clocks that tick backwards.  Eventually I move from television to film and fulfill my lifelong dream of being an editor for the next Steven Spielberg.  I grow old gracefully, and when I leave the film business I become a ranger at Glacier National Park, where I specialize in telling people to stay on the designated trails.

            The second scenario is a bit grimmer.  In this situation, I stay with myself, but things get stale quickly and I become unhappy.  I move into my grandparent's basement.  I live there long after they've sold their house to the successful lawyer/model and his blonde athlete wife.  I bang my broom on the ceiling when their three beautiful children are laughing too cheerfully.  I get hideously old and lose my sense of humor.  I start buying wombats and naming them all Harold.  Eventually, I wind up on the TV show “Hoarders” because I still have every sock I've ever worn.  I die old and alone.  Only Harold(s) come to my funeral.

            In the third scenario, I don’t stay with myself at all.  Some foreign scientist who shares my love for Otter Pops will sweep me off my feet, and we will get married in London after a good solid year of dating.  I’ll stay at home taking care of our children, who are better-looking than the lawyer/model’s and I’ll invent apps in my spare time.  My husband will find a way to put the cure for cancer into a taco and the world will be a better place.

Also, my husband will look like be Tom Hiddleston.

            I can’t know for sure what will happen, but I’m happy with where I’m at right now.  I don’t know whether I'll stay with myself forever or not, but I think it’s important that I’m taking the time to get to know and love myself.  It could really benefit Harold(s) someday.