Trick or Retreat

First - Happy Halloween, all you glamorous ghouls!

(Left to Right: Melanie, Rachel, Me, Ann. Aren't we hot?!)

Second - Never, Ever, EVER go on a Halloween charity date. I don't mean the good kind of charity - like a cancer benefit or something like that. No. I mean nice but slightly nerdy relative of an esteemed neighbor, but not really a friend, finds you bewitching (yup! totally went for the pun!) and rather than say no, which would be the humane thing to do, you say, "A Manchester Monster Bash? Never been, but it sounds like it could be fun..."

I know what you are thinking. But in my defense, it's kind of flattering to have a guy be so taken by your presence that he wants to ask you right then and there. I mean, honestly. There's a little chivalry in there. Right? Maybe?

Well, I don't even know where to begin. Do I start with the fact he, Craig, picked me up in a herse?

(His friend is in the funeral parlor business, and let him borrow his "sweet ride." Yeah, if by sweet he meant the lingering smell of lilies left over from the last procession.)

Though this was a Halloween party, I didn't want to wear a costume. I came close by wearing all black, and rimmed my eyes in black kohl.  I HOPE his outfit was a costume. He wore a tie. One of those ugly 70s ties. And a polyester blend shirt. Tucked into khakis. It was scary. 

But nowhere near as scary as the Monster Bash itself. Now, I am no stranger to lame-o parties and dances. But this...this...it made my prom night 2.0 with CH seem like a night at the Ritz.

This Monster Bash was hosted at a hospice care facility! Yeah! His grandmother wanted to see him, and since she was part of the activities committee, told him the evening would have been a great opportunity to "celebrate the holiday and bring a girl along." 

What?! And he decided a herse would be the best mode of transportation to an old people's home?! And he thought anyone under the age of 75 would find this as a great first date?! 

I give it to Gladys (Craig's grammy), the donut and cider table was delectable. But doing the boogie with the living dead was not an experience I want to repeat, at least not for the next 60 years.

The most frightful part, however, wasn't even the venue itself. Right guy, right circumstances, it would have been fun. No. The real horror story is that Grammy Gladys was under the impression that I was Craig's fiance. And that circulated faster than the Flu virus. Did Craig do anything to stop the madness? Ha! He actually went around promising Grammy and the crew invites to our May nuptuials. 

Over my dead body.