attack of the Nine foot snot ball!

So every year that I take sonny-boy out to the trick or treating, there's always sickness afoot to follow us down those dimly lit streets of mask and marshmallow goodness. Usually it's the little one with the sniffles, where at least the right sleeve of whatever costume he happens to be wearing(or not). This year however, I have been blessed with the mass sniffles, the snargles, the loogies, lung butter, quantum nose explosions, whatever you want to call it. It's okay though. I was searching for my winter coats earlier this week, and I came across at least three twelve packs of mini-kleenex, so I apparently had a little pre-cog in the realm of this 'holiday' and decided maybe I should stock up on the nose fluff for future fun with the holidays. yay for me.
Or, as I should put it more accurately, agghhaayy for Bhee.
However, My mind seems to be working properly, at least for the time being, or maybe this is all a big snot induced dream and I'm going stark raving, but I have a story for you. well, more like a tutorial. It's called, How to Wear Face Paint. or more importantly, How to Look like a Tool While Wearing Face Paint.(even though you're not even in school yet.)
This is a tradition that's passed down from generation to generation, mostly through sibling to sibling, then sibling's child then child's sibling, and so on.
Now I have vague recollections of Aunty Awesome wearing Face Paint at some point in my young life , although I'm not sure it was for Halloween, (it was the 80's after all.) But obviously, I thought it looked super-cool, and one year, either my 4th or 5th (or my 3rd or 6th, can't remember, I know I was young, and It's therefore one of my first memories) and on a particularly chilly halloween I decided I wanted to be a witch. I'm sure I wasn't really particular about what kind of witch, but I was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West, with a lovely costume one of my Kin/clan/brood had made for me, might have even been my mother, she was a whiz with the needle. (in the most respective way!. idiots.) My memory wants me to say that my aunt was there, and that we were getting ready in her apartment, so I will. Also, I believe that it may have been my aunt smearing me with the green paint, and therefore mebbe my theory of sibling-child-sibling contact has been debunked, Mebbe I'm confused, what ever, but all in all what I really, really remember, is the texture. Now if you've ever had your face painted before, you'll know the texture I'm talking about. you might even like it. Me, however, not so much. I gag at even the sight of unnkown snot, drool, unverified liquid, let alone having it rubbed into my face and letting it dry. Not to mention the chalky/acrylic smell of a Face Paint Stick.

side note: I wasnt' even sure they made the Face Paint Sticks any more, as all I've seen are those newfangled Crayons, or pots of paint. These Sticks are basically Tongue depressors that have been dipped in the nasty non-toxic goo that then gets dried Onto the stick and packaged in a variety of Five colours for your convenience.also, the only picture I could find without actually searching was a link to a link, so whatever you do, don't press close window, cuz you'll lose the story. if you pressed it already and the window closed on you, you're a tard. just sayin. kay. back to the story.

So Here I am, in my Black dress-over-snowsuit and my cape, hat and broom, and My aunt is getting up close and personal with my face and this Glow in the dark green paint stick, and all I can do is sit quiet and not complain, because I'm sure at the time there was no reason. Now let me ask something else. Has anyone tried to give themselves a home facial? you know the Face mask that's supposed to peel off that top layer of skin and all that icky dirt in your pores? That gel-ley one that you're supposed to leave on for ten to fifteen so it can dry and then you peel off and feel refreshed? remember that feeling. That's what the paint stick feels like once it has dried. For all those that have never had a home facial before, sneeze in the crook of your elbow, let the snot dry, then try moving your arm. That's what it feels like. bleagh.
I spent quite a while outside covered from hairline to chin in that stuff, completely oblivious to the fact that it wasn't coming off very easy, not even when my face was getting sweaty from all the running and the high from the sugar-adrenaline mix. after that night, I vowed I would never, ever, EVER cover my face in that stuff again. Then I realized I was only five or six, and so probably promptly forgot about it and went back to arguing with my dad over the nibs/licorice. I remember, a few years later, My sister wanting to be a devil for hallow's eve (myself having moved on to gypsies and fairies, smart choice), and she was bedecked out in the hidious stuff, in the colour of red. I also remember her face after about half an hour and thinking, gee they don't make that stuff like they used to, as her face had either disintigrated, or bled onto her mitts and coat collar. Now, this year, My sonny-boy is going as Scooby-doo, something he is very adamant about, and I'm contemplating passing on the curse to him, but I just can't find a paint stick in even a close colour to the baby-shit-orange his costume is. Somehow I don't even think I'll be able to take him outside after I paint him. I'll be too busy rolling around on the floor, peeing my self with tears in my eyes.

Willy wonka and the Cancer factory

I officially hate wednesdays.

So far today I have managed to yell at a customer on the phone, not once, but three times and counting(apparently can't take the hang up hint AT ALL), dropped all of my daily newspapers that come into my store(about 15 different titles, 5-20 apiece), then barked at a customer wanting to help.And these papers didn't just go in an up-down motion. oh no. I did the full version of the 'I got it! I Got it!' dance, and there was news every where.. and that nice, naive customer held the door open for a full 4 minutes while I did the 'mumbly-don't help me- I said I got it' stretches. all this going on, while behind me, and so unbeknownst to me, a good crowd of 4 or 5 people had gathered, either apparently too scared to pass the messy News-explosion into the helpfully opened door, or trying to keep their laughs down to a reasonably silent snorting session. yeah I heard it. helpful.

and it's not even 10:30.

ok now it is.

And enter- Oompa Loompa! Well. Not quite. He's a bit surlier than your average oompa. But he's short! And cancer-peely Orange! Someone should send that man to the tanning nazis. NO MORE GLOOP FOR YOU! ick. As always, he, like every other regular schmuck in my store, expects my mind-reading capabilities to kick in before lunch, or at least my third cuppa. So I'm behind the counter, vaguely aware that he likes to top off his carcinogenic routine with cigars, but I'll be a surgeon generals left t** if I can remember which kind. And so I start from the left of the display and move on, while he's making jokes about the intelligence level of retail employees in this day and age. I imagine the slow painful death he's made for himself, and picture him wheezing and purple, and somehow the comments bounce off . Not bad for 10:30. in the a.m. After I finally get the amount of and the kind(get this, a carton of bandi cigars, five to a pack , five packs a carton, twice a week. I hope he shares.) Oompa gets on his cell phone. Guess my converstional skills were no match to his lackey who can get him starbucks at his whim. So I'm standing there while he makes his order, still waiting for a form of payment. And the little bugger starts wandering around the store, visually picking out artery-clog inducing pastry! Hello! I want you to get the f out of my store! If you're not out in 30 seconds, your lackey better be bringing ME a venti-smooth-hot-something else-blahblah-water-more fake italian-latte, AND a muffin! I don't care which kind. not picky. haha... So , he finally comes back, and then tries to leave without paying. yeah. Saw That coming from a mile away, even in my caffiene-free coma. So we argue for a little minute, then I , in my graceful, refined and patient glory, say 'I have a video camera that's been watching you SIR! Why don't you have a look to jog your memory, cuz I am QUITE SURE that you didn't leave any fu**in money.' whoops. First rule,big one, no swearing at customers, the customer is always right. well I happen to know that most of the customers I serve don't know right from their own toes, so I guess that makes me a shitty manager. Whatever. So, wisely, he shuts his mouth, we go to the camera and rewind , he looks at himself going through the coffee summons, while I look on(thank god my back was to the camera, I'm pretty shure that I said many more unsavory things while watching his communicative ordeal.) (hah! big words! not even sure if they fit or make sense, but surprisingly they're the only words coming to mind)

And all he says is 'huh. so I guess I didn't pay ya.' and gets out his wallet. . kay best part. so he pays, says 'see ya next week, you know you don't have to let these things get to ya, don't let the world get ya down.' or something to that extent. then-'umm, I looked kind of orange in the camera... you might want to fix your contrast.'

priceless.

HALLOWEEN!

ok, so it's a little late, but not too too late, so I'll tell you all about it.
So The Last week of October, my son has had a bad flu,(this is a reminder, Please, get a flu shot, to save the ickies.) So, sonny had been spiking temps of about 103.-whatever since Monday the 29th, and was not in the best of health for tricky-treating. But, alas, daycare is such a wonderful place, that by the time pick-up time came around, he was up and about, full of Motrin, and running a wonderful little 'I'm goin tricky-treatin! yay for candy' rant, and since his dad had promised a week before to take him out, I couldn't really say no. Could I? so off home we go, and by the time we pick up daddy from work, the little tyke is passed out. yup, snoring in the car seat, oblivious to the whole day. Should I have just moved him from car seat to bed and not even tried the rest of the night? said enuf is enuf, and be done with it? probably.
so we get home, and daddy gets sonny out of the car seat, and sonny wakes up and lo and behold, starts the rant again. Now this whole rant was really kinda cute to hear in a way, since he was losing his voice, and it was coming out a squeak, so it kinda sounded like he was daydreaming. huh. So we get home, and bring out the spider man costume, figure we can tour the apartment building, and go home. Here is the first trial. even though Logan has worn the costume before, He doesn't want to wear it with clothes on. so we take off the clothes. Then he doesn't want to wear it at all. He can't understand as we try to explain that you can only get candy if you dress up. 'I can't wear it', he wails, and for a kid that's losing his voice, that's pretty impressive. So we ask why, and he replies' I can't tell you' and then proceeds to get really upset. So I ask Daddy to go put on his chef whites that he wore to work that day, and tell Logan that Daddy dressed up for candy, can you? NO. but if both daddy and mommy dress up for candy, then can you? NO! and more balling.
So this goes on for about, oh, 10-15 minutes, and then finally I tell daddy to calm kiddo down, don't ask him any more questions, and I start rooting thru the boxes in the storage closet for years past costumes. can't find anything. Start looking in my closet and his for anything that he can dress up as. Can't find anything. Then, on the brink of everyone bursting into tears, I find a pair of kiddy wranglers that good ol' uncle Hungarian and auntie got him for the Christmas before, that were a couple sizes too big, and I can't say inspiration hit me,... it was more like desperation. So in the background with Logan wailing, and daddy only slightly freaking out, and me more so, I find a vest that I wear and a cowboy hat I have that badly needs reshaping, and ask Logan if he wants to be a cowboy. NO. the wails get worse and after yet another failed attempt at explaining that only dressed-up kids get candy, it's daddy's turn for a brilliant idea. How about we just get you re-dressed and then go out for candy?
ok.
So we put him into the wranglers, and then a sweater, and then another sweater, and then his big boots, and a scarf, and get a pillow case. Sneaky. At this point we ask him if he wants to wear the cowboy hat. Big mistake. The wailing starts again, and at this point the mommy-meter for patience wears out, and I go 'OK! NO HAT! LETS JUST GET A BASEBALL CAP AND PRETEND YOU'RE A FARMER!'
But we bring the hat along just in case.
So we decide to go outside, to the street just behind us that Logan and I have meandered through many times before, and when we get to the first house, I ask sonny if he wants to wear the cowboy hat.
Ok.
AHHHH! I should have known.
So we get to the first couple of houses okay, including the one guy who just moved in and was renovating, so he gave Logan a couple of granola bars and a box of kd, then shut his porch light off. So as Logan is finally getting into the spirit of things, we get to this house in a cul-de-sac thing, and Logan goes up yells(as best he can, which isn't much with no voice, so mom and dad have to help) tricky- treating! and this little old lady answers the door, and she falls all over him like he's the cutest thing she's ever seen and of course in doing so, boosts up said parents egos and confidence, and then she asks him The Question.
'Are you a cowboy?'
and at this Logan looks so offended, and responds angrily' NO! I'm a Logan! '
and the lady lets out a twitter, and says 'I'm sorry, we don't get many Logan's dressed-up here."
and Logan says, 'I'm not dressed- up! Don't talk to me'
and turns around.
yeah.
Fan-tastic.
So after mass apologies, and I think the lady wasn't too offended, she still gave him raisins, and we're on our way. So I think Logan cheered up a bit after that, and did his usual flirting, and got mass handouts, and I do mean mass handouts, we hit 20 houses or so, and Logan filled half a pillow case. There was even one house, where the parents were ready to take Their kids out, and so they gave Logan like six bags of chips. This was also the house Logan met spider man. There was a five-six yr old dressed up as spider man, and he gave Logan one of the bags of chips, and you can just see His eyes go Wide! and soo surprised, and he says,'HI SPIDER MAN!' and goes to give this kid a hug, and I'm glad this kid wasn't older and more wary, cuz he returned the hug, and Logan is just glowing. His dad and I didn't really have the heart to tell him that spider man is a little taller than 3 foot 3. And after we hit one side of the street, it was time to go home, as his dad and I were taking turns either holding the candy-filled pillowcase, or holding Logan, and to tell the truth, it was hard to tell which weighed more.
So we get home, and logan gets back down to his diaper, and mommy dumps out the pillow-case to search for tainted goodies, and it wasn't bad, I only threw out a marshmallow thing and the box of raisins. I swear some people should definitly check expiration dates if they're going to give out healthy food. I don't condone it, in fact I recommend it, but really. Dont just give it away cuz it's been in your cupboard for the last five years, and you can't bring yourself to throw it out....
so that is the halloween story, and it's pretty scary, at least parts of it are in my eyes.
Stay tuned for more adventures from the Tiny Pianist!