Halloween costumes

My Person™ told me that I was so hilarious in the e-card I sent her regarding Halloween and post-modernism I should post it to my blog. Since I haven’t been posting anything lately, I feel it might be a step in the right direction.

remember the days when we only went to halloween parties dressed as obscure literary references no one could possible get? man, i miss that. i’m thinking of going as a post-modern entity this year. i’ll get one of those shirts that says “this is my halloween costume,” but i’ll actually be a person who would wear such a shirt, not just someone who is copping out by wearing a dumb t-shirt. on the back i’ll write “or is it?” and the whole thing will be very meta and post-modern and i’ll spend half the evening talking in french while standing on my head, and a third of the evening crying in a corner over a beer i purposefully spilled on the floor, and i’ll end the evening with a grand exit in which i scream “there’s just no point to this futile existence!” then i’ll grab cocktail from the waiter (because in my fantasy world there would be waiters serving drinks at the fancy-schmancy halloween party i’m going to, though in reality there aren’t going to be waiters nor cocktails) and go “i’ll take this for the road,” laugh maniacially, and dash into the yard. during my dash i’ll slip on some very ordinary wet grass, break my leg, and end up spending four weeks in the hospital. i’ll be so bored in the hospital, though, that i’ll start writing a novel, and the patient in the next bed will really be a big time publisher who got sick from food poisoning while visiting his grandchildren. he’ll make me an offer before he leaves the hospital, and i’ll get a check, what are those called? when you–ah, an advance. but, before i can actually send him my novel and be completely famous and loved and rich enough to finally move to the island, he’ll die from a serious stomach disease (because, you see, the food poisoning wasn’t really food poisoning after all). the publishing house will refuse to publish my book, ask for the advance back, and i’ll walk the rest of my life with a slight limp because my leg never healed quite right.

it’s going to be so post-modern no one will be able to stand it, but that’s partly because they won’t know i sent you this e-card spelling it all out, which is what really makes it post-modern. and because they’re dumb and don’t know what post-modernism is. stupid stupids.

miss you.

(Please be advised that i don’t necessarily believe in capital letters, unless my arch nemesis tells me i have to, so any and all e-mail to My Person™ is done in lower case. Also love and props to someecards, my favorite e-card website in the world, because I’m stealing this image from them. Mwah ha ha ha ha.)

And so it begins.

I can’t say much, because I do need to use the bathroom something terrible, but here is the first moment of real, grown-up blogging I’ve ever done. You can tell it’s real, grown-up blogging because I’m using capital letters.

I expected everyone to be impressed.