Last night I walked into the living room with a bowl of Halloween candy for Joe to distribute to our trick-or-treaters.
(Note: I will not be home tonight for Halloween. I’m “celebrity” judging a costume contest at a burlesque show in Sarasota, so Joe has been tasked with handing out our loot. )
I take tremendous pride in my Halloween candy assortment. Every year I fill a giant bowl with Reese’s, Twix, Hersheys, lollipops and if I’m feeling generous, Kit Kats. And every year, two or three shy kids show up in the company of nervous parents who advise them to only take ONE measly candy.
“One candy!” I cry. “NONSENSE! Take five candies! Hell, take 10. You’re the only little goblins I get all night. DIG IN.”
I’m bummed I won’t be here tonight to push candy.
(Note: If you’re in Sarasota and you’re planning to attend tonight’s contest, please know I’ve got eccentric taste in costumes. Ladies: I don’t have much love for those of you who dress as floozies for Halloween. Just so you know who you’re dealing with, my last three Halloween costumes were a Wheel of Fortune game piece, a Chinese takeout box and this year, a fugly mom – fupa and all. Timely, no?)