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Halloween: A cautionary tale

November 3, 2011

Morning all! I realize Halloween is gone making me somewhat late with this post but what can you do? I’ve pretty much been spray adhesived to glitter this past month. Learn from me how NOT to make a mess. You know what they say-if you can’t be a good example, be a bad one. Or something like that.

This is how we glitterized things for the inside of the house. Glitter was in my water. I left black glitter footprints all over the house. I drank/inhaled so much glitter, it came out when I peed. I told a girl at work this and she said, “Some people piss excellence, Amy pees glitter.”  Which other than being called hell on heels and finding out some people were terrified of me-thus propelling my “Devil Wears Prada” dreams-the glitter peeing is my most favorite thing that’s ever been said about me. Jason boiled water last night and glitter miraculously appeared in it.

I’m like the Virgin Mary of glitter ya’ll.


The lesson from this is-don’t use Tupperware you give a shit about. The vast majority of ours is permanently coated in Elmer’s and glitter-rending it unsafe for food storage. Also, glitter may be bad for your urinary tract. And/or lungs.

Another lesson? Don’t use spray adhesive unless you want to dance like a stripper over a sprinkler in your front yard. And then have gasoline rubbed on you. True. I was so vigorous with the spray adhesive and a giant bottle of black glitter while glitterizing bats and pumpkins that I totally encased my hands, arms and parts of my thigh in this glitter/spray adhesive mess. And it got super hard. And unbudgeable. J told me to rinse off in the sprinkler. This would have fared better had it been the tick tick tick kind rather than the gentle back and forth whoosh whoosh fan style. Since he had it angled and only spraying one way-I had to writhe suggestively in the spray to rinse off my arms and inner thighs. When that didn’t work, and I just looked like I had peed my pants, J rubbed gas on me. Sadly, there is no photo to illustrate this. Please use your imagination. It can’t be worse than reality.

Funkins, unlike their name would imply, are neither fun or easy to carve. I realize I am a special case as we have “real” knives and Amy knives. My grandmother once told me if she ever wanted to kill herself she wasn’t coming to my house as there’s nothing sharp enough to do the job. So Ichabod ended up with silly circle features instead of the realistic scared features in my head.

Water + electricity= not good. You would THINK I would have learned that when I blew all the fuses one Christmas but no. I decided to see if the laws of physics, science or whatnot had changed by adjusting tiny lightbulbs in the rain. A weird vibrating feeling went through my teeth and bones and while not unpleasant was vaguely disconcerting. (I keep feeling like if I had more outlets it wouldn’t be an issue. I’d actually like to use an outlet on my neighbor’s home that I don’t think they know about by J feels I shouldn’t since they don’t like us. Gaudy holiday displays and sprinkler dancing aside, I can’t imagine why.)

Fire? Also bad. Even the DOG ran away. But he’s a wuss. For my Nevermore raven I decided I wanted to make paper look spooky by burning it. Once I figured out how to work the childproof lighters, I basically just burned my fingers. They were black. And it sent ashes all over the yard. And lit embers onto the flammable spider webs. I also underestimated my OCD and just how many pieces of paper I would need to burn one until I found it aesthetically pleasing. It was a chore. I’m also fairly bummed out that my raven is actually a crow. It would seem fake ravens are hard to purchase BUT crows and ravens are in the same genus, species, family-something. I probably missed that day in science class along with the one about electricity and childbirth. (I’m assuming those were actually different days but since I was probably at the river, I couldn’t say for sure.)

The final lesson, also sans photo-mainly because Bratchild was laughing too hard to snap a pic-is that when stores say ask for assistance with things on higher shelves, they actually mean it. This is a two-parter-styrofoam hurts more than you think. There are few things I hate more than having to wait for someone else to do something. (It’s why I won’t shop at Publix. Their perkiness and insistence on carrying bread to the car is exhausting.) So when I needed a square of floral foam that was on the top shelf and well out of my 5’2″ reach-I decided bouncing and flinging things at it until it fell would work. And it did. I merely miscalculated my ability to catch and ended up getting smacked in the bridge of my nose causing it to bleed in Michaels.

So now…I’m starting on Thanksgiving and Christmas. There are things to be glitterized, fires to set and fingertips to slice open. What are you working on for the holidays?

5 Comments leave one →
  1. November 3, 2011 7:23 AM

    I saw somewhere that “glitter is the herpes of the craft world” – I so agree. I’m very anti-glitter. You just confirmed my opinions.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      November 3, 2011 7:33 AM

      Ha! Well, unlike herpes at least glitter is pretty? 🙂

  2. November 3, 2011 12:59 PM

    I hate crafts. My oldest is now 15 so she gets the crafts duty. I’ll even pay her to do it.

  3. November 17, 2011 12:36 PM

    Did you reenact that scene out of Tommy Boy when Chris Farley sings “I’m a maaaaniac maaaaaniac on the floor” as he gets hosed?

    This post made me laugh from beginning to end. But I’m glad you didn’t get seriously injured or anything. Pumpkin carving + fires is just a recipe for disaster.

    • AmyBlam permalink*
      November 30, 2011 8:44 AM

      No but I WISH I had!

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