Here in the city living in a condo I guess that’s the way it goes. Well, now that I think about it, there’s no way for someone to get in the building anyway. Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Hmm… One sentence in and now I have nothing to talk about.
Well, let’s keep going in real-time and see what happens.
On the way home from the subway I passed a number of kids with their parents trick or treating. Since gang violence is prevalent in Uptown, anything that resembles healthy family activity is a welcomed addition, if even for just one night.
I remember when candy was about the most important “get” in the world and how much Halloween meant to me.
We didn’t have a candy drawer in our house. Once in a blue moon someone would deposit a five-stick pack of Extra gum in a kitchen drawer. It was something but sugar-free gum doesn’t exactly get you high. I remember thinking that candy must only be for rich people because we didn’t have it just sitting around. I once saw a friend of mine put a Snickers in his mom’s cart at the checkout line and I couldn’t believe when he didn’t get backhanded. My mom didn’t hit me, but putting candy in the cart without asking would not have been well-received.
Candy was a treat. The same with soft drinks. Actually, I think we did always have Coke and Pepsi in our refrigerator But it was wasn’t something encouraged and wouldn’t have been allowed for dinner. We had a diet Crystal Light crap that you could drink all day long. To me that stuff tasted like chemicals. I stayed with water.
I was listening to Adam Carolla recently and he was suggesting that the most important quality that separated the friends of his that became successful the friends that did not had to do with immediate gratification. He said that your ability to put aside receiving short-term pleasure is critical to “making it.” He’s right, of course. Discipline and sacrifice win the game. Having the candy drawer open to you at all times required no motivation to do something to earn the candy drawer.
Halloween was one of the few times a year you received unlimited candy. You worked for it, too, getting dressed up and hanging out with your pals going house to house. In a way it was a reward for being a kid and putting in some hard work. Also, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t allowed to eat the candy until I got home. Another sacrifice.
I’ve decided that when I settle down and have kids, I’m going cool. Each year I will build a candy budget and give out full bars of candy to kids on Halloween. But, the twist is… I’m only giving out Mounds or Skor. So, I’m going big and terrible.
“Old man Paris is giving away the big bars!” they’ll cry in the streets! “Let’s egg that f**ker’s house!”
It will be the biggest letdown on a child’s candy route. When the kids get back to their Halloween parties it will be first traded. In theory it should hold a lot of value since it’s a $1.09 item. In reality it will get traded for a mini-KitKat to the someone who doesn’t understand yet how much those candy bars suck.
Or, here’s another funny move. Get a huge sack of M&Ms and then when trick or treaters come to the door, just dip your hand into the plastic pumpkin bowl and drop a handful of loose chocolates into each bag. Notice how the parents react to this. There will be confusion and mistrust. Loose, unwrapped candy is not a parent’s ideal for Halloween.
Anyway, that’s all I have tonight. I hope your kid’s pillowcase wasn’t stuffed with only Dum-Dum lollipops and those cheap off-brand jawbreakers. If so, then next year go over to the rich area of town. Your kids deserve it.
photo credit: memoflores via photopin cc
]]>My boss often suggests that I attend networking events. The problem is that I’m busy most nights and, oh yeah, I don’t like networking events. Well, that’s not entirely true. Put me at a blogger convention and I’ll run around talking to everyone. If there was a Fresca roundtable group I’d run a smear campaign against my opponent to win the treasurer position.
The networking events that are in the industry I work are held at bars after work. I don’t drink. Plus, watching people get loaded is not a lot of fun for a sober guy. Even at the party tonight there was a guy getting moshed on red wine. He stood too close to me and kept spilling his drink talking about dog rescue. It’s pretty gross to see that red lips and teeth thing.
Look, if you need red wine because it brings out the flavor of meat or fish or bread or whatever, fine. But don’t get sloshed on it at a party. You look like you just made out with one of the Cirque du Soleil clowns that warms up the audience. Drink some white zin and call it a night.
Oh, and this guy kept touching me. He was a little tipsy, and I suspect more than a little gay. Lots of touching on the elbows, and some forceful arm holding. Also, he blew me in the storage closet. Toothy. Sorry – easy joke. But it was strange to be touched by a stranger. I’m sure he was just being friendly and possibly flirty.
The event had about fifteen participants. It was sort of a sad party. The DJ booth was manned, lots of food and free booze and just a handful of dog enthusiasts who brought costumes. I have to say, though. It wasn’t bad. Sure there wasn’t much going on, but the people there were genuine. Also, not weirdo dog people. The pug person only brought one pug, not three. That’s rare.
Since I didn’t know anyone I jumped into a circle of existing conversation. I’m not uncomfortable doing this, but at some point if nobody reaches out proactively, you have to select one person to choose as your leader. The leader gets the first introduction and your handshake, all while the others witness this selection. And I know they’re thinking, “Why is he not choosing me first? That guy is NOT our leader. He has red wine lips and is grabby.”
I always go right in the middle, pick the dude directly across from me, and introduce myself. This brings the energy in the circle to a halt and I now have to make another decision. Which way do I start introducing myself to everyone else? Clockwise or counter? The last person must feel like a real loser.
By the way, this is a facility that is strictly for people to have pet parties. Yes. You read that right. They have all sorts of events and the owner invited me to an all-chihuahua meetup in a few weeks. I’ll go. I suspect my dance card will be empty that night as well.
All in all, I am proud I didn’t sit around in my underwear tonight coming up with tweets that would get responses to make me feel less alone. I even miss red wine molester.
