Whole Lotta Halloween Hootenannies

I'll make up for such a lame title by including a crapload of pictures this time around. For the two or three people out there who check into this blog every-so-often, I apologize for the lateness in update. I wish I had a better reason, except that I had very little to say.

Every so often, a thought pops into my head, and I start forming a fetus of a blog entry in my noggin'. But what ends up happening is I ultimately realize it was a crappy idea to begin with, and I go all pro-choice on it. Sorry fetus article... it's my blog, and my choice.

Erm. Yeah. Well, all creepy analogies aside, I've had a couple of false-starts since my last article... But as I realized they all devolved into frighteningly conservative right-wing rants, I quickly remembered I had a sock drawer to arrange, and promptly forgot about blogging for the day. I've also forgotten what a run-on sentence is... and have most likely violated several grammatical rules... but I'm livin' on the wild side. It's my blog, baby. The rest of you are just visitin'!


The Second Annual Halloween Hootenanny, '02: The Geisha, the Samurai, Christopher Lowell in a Sailor Hat, the Male Stripper, the Knight and His Lady, The Wayne, and the Musketeer.

This will be the first year this millenium that I will not be holding the annual Halloween Hootenanny at La Casa de Crimmins. When it all started back in 2001, Ally and I had a conversation in which we lamented our post-collegiate status, and our resulting lack of Halloween-related activities for the holiday. Thus, we resolved to throw our own bash and invite all our wacky pals. A tradition was birthed. And my expense account at Spencer's Gifts started resembling a phone number. After all, my demented self never does anything half-way.

Ach. Ben Lee of the Clan Lee... hailing from the Scottish Highlands of New Jersey. He's damn sexy!

And true to form, our above-mentioned wacky buddies took the proverbial ball and ran with it. Jumping into the idea with such gusto... at times it could be a bit frightening. We've had everything from a battered Cubs fan, to an undecided voter, to a blind referee, to a male stripper attend. And that's just Craine's costumes.

The Demonic Duo: Ally and me in '03.

It was a lot of fun getting the house ready every year, putting out macabre candles, hanging black lights, and defrosting the corpses. I mean, "cupcakes." It's true about those reports that Americans have made Halloween the second most profitable holiday in this country. There is so much awesome, quality paraphrenalia out there. And when e-bay got involved... oh boy. Suddenly, desire of owning my very own cow skull could become a reality. That latex dessicating zombie prop was only a mouse-click away. It's truly the magic of the season.

The Frightful Four of '04: The Software Pirate, the Lumberjack, the Vampire, and... an accountant with a Jets jersey? (Sorry, Esteban... you were a rapper or something, right?)

Lamentably, the fun was not meant to last at La Casa de Crimmins, as the demands of med school required that I end my streak at 4 consecutive years back in '04. In 2005, new partyplanners will carry the Halloween Torch for us all. I look forward to simply being the party attender this year. At least for Halloween...

...there's still Thanksgiving, Christmas, and this big affair I hope to throw this August! (I'll say no more)

Ally and I proudly represent our chosen vocations in '04.

In thinking about Halloween, and in wandering the aisles of local Party City's... I've pondered some trends that have become increasingly hard to ignore. Like I mentioned before, Halloween has become a big money holiday these last couple of years. It's far-outstripped Easter and Valentine's Day... and has kicked the homely butt of Thanksgiving (poor Thanksgiving... there's hardly any merchandizing potential!). Costumes and accessories have become more and more elaborate, lavish, and especially expensive.

Now, for all you children born before '85... I want you to think back to those elementary school days, rushing home to put on your costume and start your scavenging for "fun size" Three Musketeers and Twix. (not that I ever found anything "fun" about those tiny little things... did you?) But growing up in the late '70's and early '80's, there was one common denominator when it came to Halloween costumes. Two words: Ben Cooper.

... could also pass for the Jolly Green Giant with lockjaw.

You may not remember the name... but friend, you remember the costumes. They were everywhere. In every drugstore and supermarket, you had your vast selection of plastic smock and mask with rubberband combos, depicting everything from Mr. T to Mr. Kotter. Don't believe me? Check this out: Ben Cooper's Worst Costumes Ever

Back then, the faint smell of new plastic was as Halloweeny as picking the candy corns off those Entemanns cupcakes. Just a smock and crappy mask.

But today's child is a little more savvy. Today's child doesn't have much of an imagination anymore, and demands something a bit more sophisticated...

New Hulk is EXTREME!!!!!

Ah yes. Today's child demands a full latex mask, padded muscle suit, full length pants and leggings, a personal trainer, and an interview with Ang Lee. Not included are green rubber fist gloves that make growling sounds when you hit things.

I once made a robot costume out of a cardboard box. Mom got me some gray sweat pants.

Okay, so that's one gripe. Or maybe it's sour grapes. These costumes nowadays... are pretty cool. In all truthfulness.

However, another trend seemed to becoming far to glaring to miss. While strolling down the costume aisle at the nearby Party City, I perused the wall that featured pictures of all the available costumes, divided into sections for infants, children, teens, and adults. Infants and Children were pretty standard. You had all your old standby's: vampire, policeman, witch, batman, George Bush...

...but when I got to "teens," and "adults," I was a bit surprised. I'm not a prude, but I couldn't help but notice the amount of flesh was involved in teen and adult costumes. In actuality, "teen," is probably a misnomer. By "teen," they probably mean "college teen." Because self-respecting teens I remember never wore costumes for Halloween. They just wore the requisite ratty sweatshirt and jeans, chasing each other around with shaving cream and eggs. They're the ones that rang the doorbell, after dark, during dinner... looking a little ashamed of themselves, covered in soapsuds, holding out their soggy pillow case, mumbling, "trickertreat." And by then you were pretty much out of candy, because you already ate the last fun-size twizzlers that your Mom always insists on buying... and then you have to grab a bouple of Mary Janes out of your little sister's pumpkin...

Hmm... that just got a bit autobiographical, there....

So, anyway... ladies costumes these days are getting a whole lot more risque. And I was hard-pressed not to find a single female costume at Party City that didn't start with, "sexy," "naughty," or "double-jointed."

For visual reference, I've conveniently provided some examples of what I found:

Absolutely no subliminal suggestions here, right?

I somehow remember witches wearing green facepaint, and maybe even a fake nose. And for some reason, I don't think this'll be the costume Mom wears when she takes her kids out for trick or treating... unless she's taking them to Amsterdam.

Another Halloween costume... another plunging neckline.

I'm starting to truly suspect that Halloween has somehow metamorphosed into National Foreplay Day. Seriously.

Oh, Comon'! There's no way anyone could seriously fight a fire wearing that! And that helmet certainly isn't up to code!

Well... anyway. I just thought I'd share my observation with you all. Feel free to debate with me the finer points of my argument... I wonder what would happen if they sexed up other holidays... like Easter... imagine, a "sexy bunny costume"! As if I'd ever live to see that!

Have a happy and safe Halloween everyone! Try to avoid those razor blades in the apples... that we've all been on the lookout for since we were all kids!

The above pictures were exhaustively sought for on several search engines. But, I don't want any credit. The two hours of intensive research was merely for your benefit.

Feedback Question of the Holiday:
"What's the best Halloween costume you've ever seen? The worst? Send me a picture of it, and I'll put it on the blog. Do you have any good Halloween stories or anecdotes? Any comments at all...?"

Lines Writ at Med School, Pt. 3

Here I am in class, listening to Fran Drescher half-heartedly describe the lymphatic system.

She lectured a little bit during the last class... but sort of as a sub. I'm not quite sure if that's her capacity, again, today. But she's certainly doing a lackluster job of it... much like the Yankees pitching staff. A woman this miserable must cry herself to sleep every night.

Okay, I'm a little down.

I spent the last four days being all happy and irresponsible... basking in a very pleasant post-test afterglow. Oh yeah, I should mention I passed my first test. To be honest, I wanted to make it a whole lot funnier and interesting, with hilarious googled-pictures and double entendres and veiled references to the Simpsons... but, I'm tired. Because it's pre-noon, it's crappy out, and I'm back in class.

The nice thing about my school is that they only teach one class at a time. Instead of half a dozen classes, and thus, half a dozen requisite exams, my school lumps all various disclipines, ie: pathology (looking at sick cells), histology (cell structure), microbiology (yet more things that are small), gross anatomy (just for a change, things that are not small), and biochemistry (what and how things work that are very small), and focuses on one body system at a time. So, my first test, which was on everything taught during the first 5 weeks of school, was "Fundamentals of Osteopathic Medicine," which gave a broad spectrum of topics from pharmacology, to bacterial taxonomy, to calculating pH. Now, we're learning about blood and the immune system.

But the nice thing is, now that I've passed my first exam, we start over, with a clean slate. I like that.

Oh yeah, but the Yankees lost. Which is disappointing. And I'll forego any more crowing about baseball, in deference to frustrated Mets fans... and fans of the team that shall not be named who got swept by the White Sox.

Sorry.

Tommy's Gone Bye-Bye

I think I'm taking the pressure of my first medical school test in stride! Right?

Okay, so I'm a little nervous.

Quite trepidated, actually. I have a lot riding on this first test, but I'm giving myself plenty of time to prepare, so I want to leave this blog entry as a "seeya later" message until I make it to the other side... Friday night. If it's Friday and the PM, then I'm good to go. Until then...

Sheesh.

I've already planned ahead, envisioning what my weekend should consist of. Feel free to include yourself in my festivities... if you want to wander over on Friday night or Saturday, I'd be happy to see you...

... but as you're about to see, I'm gonna be REALLY happy this weekend.

And my liver will be my red-headed step-child.

A couple of hours with my man, Zavros will turn all my frowns upside down!

Step 1: Friday, Estimated Time of Arrival (ETA) 12 noon. Bar. Any bar. The nearest bar. There are actually two places I imagine I'll head off to. Either Sullivan's Quay on Port Washington Blvd... or The Ground Round on Northern Blvd. A little ghetto? I don't think so. Have you ever had their buffalo chicken sandwich? Pure awesomeness. My brain will still be raw from my racking it for the last two hours... but I'll be relieved because I can finally blow off some steam.

Let the weekend begin!

Blake was going to regret that fifth Rob Roy... Oh Jiminy Crackers!

Yeah... so, I imagine after my pre-emptive liver strike, I'll most likely join some of my fellow med students to whereever they pre-arranged a blowout. I hope this happens... at least for the fact that I might finally be able to socialize with these weirdos. Put a couple of drinks in 'em... and they can almost pass for human. Who knows where, when, or how long this will be.

I got a fever... and the only prescription... is more cowbell. And Domino's.

Step 2: Friday, ETA 10 PM. Home. I quite deservedly will kick back with my favorite indulgence... a medium pie of Domino's with extra tomato sauce. I know, I'm weird. I'll have a couple more suds to complement the feast. And for entertainment...

Hat's off to drunk Tom... he just passed his first med school test!

Gladiator. Pizza, beer, and Gladiator. Exactly what I will want this Friday night. Like I said, feel free to drop by for the carnage. I'm most likely going to pass out on the couch. So if Al announces that he's gonna drop by, I'll make sure to remove all magic markers from the area beforehand.

Serenity: Karate Fights and Space Ships. Okay, super.

Why not? Go see Serenity Saturday. Might as well. Otherwise, after I wake up with a debilitating hangover, I might be tempted to do some scrapbooking, or something. So, seeing Serenity might be a good alternative... y'know? As far as I know, it involves lasers and kung-fu fighting. Which is about all the plot I think I'd be able to handle this weekend. And as for dinner Saturday night?

Was there really any doubt? Damn it, I deserve a meal at Hooters with my buddies for all the crap I've been through. So there. Seriously, I'd love for all of you guys to join me this Saturday for some awesome wings and some more beers. And I'd like somebody to give me a ride. Please?

Something wrong about this... somehow...

And Sunday. Is Ally's day. I've saved the best for last. Drunken revelry, hot wings, and Russell Crowe simply do not compare.

Amen, brother.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"What's your favorite way to blow off stress?"

Let's Go, Yanks!

Somehow... despite a frustrating season, the Yankees came back, with some true grit, to end up as kings of the AL-East mountain. It's been a wild ride, but they've done a complete turn-around since the All-Star break... battling back from the basement of the American League.

Of course, nobody can really talk about the "heroic season" of the Yankees with a straight face. Ever. Of course not... not the Evil Empire, not the Swollen Payroll... not those Damn Yankees.

Yeah, the Yanks have money. And the Yanks have history. But why punish them? What did they do wrong? Did they somehow steal money from the Kansas City Royals... or rob the Detroit Tigers' grandmas' life savings? Are they the bad guys because they've been so successful? If the Yankees were a store, they'd be Starbucks... or even perhaps, Wal-Mart.

Pretty much everyone outside of New York hates the Yankees. Understandably. Their dominance over the sport has extended over the last century... with a whole lot of guys in pinstripes immortalized in Cooperstown. They have the money and prestige to attract the best players. They have an owner who's notorious for his over-the-top expectations for his team. And they represent a city that, at large, isn't exactly known for it's humility.

But is it really deserving of "hate"? Derek Jeter doesn't sell crack to school kids. Mariano Rivera doesn't engage in white slavery. Jorge Posada doesn't sell child pornography.... anymore. I think, then, more accurately, everyone ENVIES the Yankees.

And "number one" on the list of Yankee Enviers, is the Red Sox fan.

Bunch of scumbags.

Above, the typical victory prance for the Boston Red Sox.

Now, I truly despise Red Sox fans. Well, let me clarify. I absolutely, vehemently, and thoroughly abhor the boorish, obnoxious Red Sox Fan. Not the guy from Newport, Rhode Island, or the boy from Bangor, Maine, who "root" for the Red Sox. That's fine. Good for them. It doesn't surprise me that they root for the Sox.

What I can't stand, are the
juvenile,
rabid,
"Yankees Suck"-chanting,
exaggerated Southie-accent-having,
wicked ah-some,
pa-hk the cah',
glass of wah-tah',
going to Yankees games with Red Sox gear on,
cowboy-upping,
meathead,
Red Sox Fans.

I can't stand them.

I also can't stand several of their players. Varitek, Nixon, and the ever-mewling Schilling... that loudmouth a-hole. These guys have zero class. Always talking trash... always taking shots at the Yankees. Truly, the Bruce Dickinsons of the baseball world.

Then there are Red Sox guys that I have to give grudging respect for: Ramirez, Ortiz, and Damon. These can be listed under the category of "Guys I wish Played for the Yankees." These are men that are simply excellent players and fairly decent human beings, to boot.

Thus, the "Red Sox," that I hate, are not neccessarily a team or a fanbase, so much as a specific attitude. This, "holier-than-thou, Yanks suck no matter what, Boston rules" attitude.

Big Pimpin' with Jorge, Derek, and Jason. That's how we roll in NYC (although I think this picture is from Baltimore).

You can criticize the Yankees for having a tremendous budget. But that's it. These are hardly the Ivan Dragos from Rocky IV. Steinbrenner spends a lot of his money to make his team as good as possible. From a business standpoint, it's really an unassailable strategy: Invest the money, to pay for the best possible team, to win games, to sell the brand, to attract the fans. What, is it somehow more noble to suck? This is America, bitches. God, I love capitalism.

The reason the Yankees have been so successful is because they've paid the get the best players, they've invested in a well-organized farm system, and they've cultivated an atmosphere of excellence. The Yankees owners bought out Babe Ruth from the Red Sox because the Sox owner wanted more money to finance his theater production of "No No Nanette." So, basically, what we have is a matter of divided goals. Because the then-struggling Yankee organization wanted to win ball games, and because the then-successful Red Sox organization wanted to put on a play, the Yankees began their dynasty of dominance.

And so, to this day, the Yankee organization has perpetuated this, through financial investment, and attention to history. And today, the Yankees are primarily staffed with clean-cut, soft spoken athletes. They do not engage in trash talk, they don't wear goatees, and they don't appear on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (three things the Red Sox are extremely guilty of). And last I heard, the Sox have the second-highest payroll in the major leagues... so they're hardly winning these days because they're pure of heart, or something.

But of course, these days, it's far more cool to be the rebel than to be the establishment. Better to be a die-hard Red Sox fan than a Yankees front-runner. But believe me, if there's a bandwagon these days... it's not in the Bronx.

Basically, I don't care if the Yankees win the World Series this year. (Well, honestly, I'd love it if they did. I'm determined to go to the parade this year, come hell or high water.) All I care about is that the Red Sox don't win.

Just so they'll shut the hell up until Spring.

Feedback Question of the Day:
"Who are the biggest, and most annoying, sore losers you can think of?"

PS: I will never, and I mean NEVER, watch Fever Pitch. Ever. Jimmy Fallon is dead to me.