I love holidays for selfish egotistical reasons, completely focused on my agenda and no one else's. And I'm OK with that - if anyone truly appreciates holidays, it's me. Not for the same morally correct reasons instilled by my parents, such as the "giving" mindset, love for your family, or quality time with your loved ones. No, I love holidays for the obvious selfish reasons, like paid time off from work and excuses to excessively drink and ignore the pleas for safety from my liver.
And why shouldn't I? I spend over 300 days a year servicing other peoples needs, ranging from my professional life ("where is this TPS report?") to my personal life ("done already?"), even extending into the travel time between lives (the spacious of a Southwest Airlines coach seat - thanks, fat neighbor). And then comes the relief that for one night - for 12 hours of carefree living - social constraints don't apply: Halloween.
And then comes the relief that for one night, for one solitary night of drinking, costumes and debauchery, social constraints don't apply. Each time Halloween rolls around, it's like all the mistakes in life mask their flaws for a night: tasteless horror movies becomes insta-classics, the Lakers have an 0-82 season while the Golden State Warriors grace the NBA hardwood, and the abdominal flab on the nearest girl looks like a rock hard 6 pack (or 18 pack, depending on the size of that particular girl and the conviction of your beer goggles). The Mayans must have boogied on Halloween too, because this holiday is the calendars gift to all horror movie aficionados, NBA fans, social deviants...and whores. And I love them all.
Though there wasn't any Golden State Warriors frenzy present, this years' horror appetizer "Chain Letter" had all the makings of an instant TNT classic. Blood, guts, suspense, nudity, and a murderous wardrobe. And by murderous, I mean the Chain Man killed it with a wardrobe we all can relate to: tattered shirt and pants (from our poorer days), over sized chains (like the steroid freaks use for workouts at your local 24 Hour Fitness), and a cool mask (think Scream meets Ninja Gaiden). You know, all white, enveloping the head AND mouth area, just to make sure his air supply is recycled.
Its cool horror-movie masks and motifs like that that makes Halloween all the more enviable to party-goers throughout the nation. More so for the guys, however. We can hit up our neighborhood's seasonal Halloween store (that was a run down Save Mart on September 29) and pick up gear from our favorite horror movies, like Chain Letter. What's even better about the Halloween apparel season (aside from B-level wardrobe accessories, obviously) is that for all the creativity I might put into an outfit along the lines of Freddy, Jason, or the Chain Man, drunken socialites and the classiest of sorority chicks will do the polar opposite: less equals more. Ah, whores.
It's as if their inner selves hid from perverted eyes for the previous 364 days of the year and came out on All Hallows Eve with pent-up anticipation and a penchant for promiscuity. If only you're sloppy night could last for another twelve hours, preferably while you wear the Chain Man's mask. Awards for the best costume won't go to the guy with a head full of pins and 3 hours of makeup (a la the late 1980's Hell raiser classic); no, they will go to a perverse ex-cheerleader sporting a mini skirt & thong combination, push-up bra and just enough Bacardi in her to prove to the room she can still do the splits, thus effectively saving all "Megan's Law" members from having to use an expensive rufy. I love Halloween! - 40732
And why shouldn't I? I spend over 300 days a year servicing other peoples needs, ranging from my professional life ("where is this TPS report?") to my personal life ("done already?"), even extending into the travel time between lives (the spacious of a Southwest Airlines coach seat - thanks, fat neighbor). And then comes the relief that for one night - for 12 hours of carefree living - social constraints don't apply: Halloween.
And then comes the relief that for one night, for one solitary night of drinking, costumes and debauchery, social constraints don't apply. Each time Halloween rolls around, it's like all the mistakes in life mask their flaws for a night: tasteless horror movies becomes insta-classics, the Lakers have an 0-82 season while the Golden State Warriors grace the NBA hardwood, and the abdominal flab on the nearest girl looks like a rock hard 6 pack (or 18 pack, depending on the size of that particular girl and the conviction of your beer goggles). The Mayans must have boogied on Halloween too, because this holiday is the calendars gift to all horror movie aficionados, NBA fans, social deviants...and whores. And I love them all.
Though there wasn't any Golden State Warriors frenzy present, this years' horror appetizer "Chain Letter" had all the makings of an instant TNT classic. Blood, guts, suspense, nudity, and a murderous wardrobe. And by murderous, I mean the Chain Man killed it with a wardrobe we all can relate to: tattered shirt and pants (from our poorer days), over sized chains (like the steroid freaks use for workouts at your local 24 Hour Fitness), and a cool mask (think Scream meets Ninja Gaiden). You know, all white, enveloping the head AND mouth area, just to make sure his air supply is recycled.
Its cool horror-movie masks and motifs like that that makes Halloween all the more enviable to party-goers throughout the nation. More so for the guys, however. We can hit up our neighborhood's seasonal Halloween store (that was a run down Save Mart on September 29) and pick up gear from our favorite horror movies, like Chain Letter. What's even better about the Halloween apparel season (aside from B-level wardrobe accessories, obviously) is that for all the creativity I might put into an outfit along the lines of Freddy, Jason, or the Chain Man, drunken socialites and the classiest of sorority chicks will do the polar opposite: less equals more. Ah, whores.
It's as if their inner selves hid from perverted eyes for the previous 364 days of the year and came out on All Hallows Eve with pent-up anticipation and a penchant for promiscuity. If only you're sloppy night could last for another twelve hours, preferably while you wear the Chain Man's mask. Awards for the best costume won't go to the guy with a head full of pins and 3 hours of makeup (a la the late 1980's Hell raiser classic); no, they will go to a perverse ex-cheerleader sporting a mini skirt & thong combination, push-up bra and just enough Bacardi in her to prove to the room she can still do the splits, thus effectively saving all "Megan's Law" members from having to use an expensive rufy. I love Halloween! - 40732
About the Author:
To learn more about Chain Letter,stop by the official site where you can find out all about the movie. Also visit Youtube and check out the official trailer.
No comments:
Post a Comment