Posted By Chris
I’m not trying to get involved in anyone’s romantic life, but I’m only thinking of Sara and the baby (I’ll refer to the baby as “Baby Shawn Kemp-Horst” from now on – named after John’s all-time favorite NBA player. Plus, Shawn Kemp knew a thing or two about knockin’ bitches up. ). There is only a small window which Sara can have Baby Shawn Kemp-Horst and not disrupt any Halloween plans. If she has him in March or before, she’ll be more than halfway though her pregnancy on October 31st, and unable to partake in any Halloween festivities (I have yet to see any maternity Halloween costumes). If she has Baby Shawn Kemp-Horst in October or November, she runs the risk of delivering early, and that could ruin John’s Halloween night. Plus, their two lives would be at odds for months during the pregnancy.
“John, please get in here. I want you to read What to Expect When You’re Expecting with me. I need your support.”
“My auction is almost over, and if I don’t win this fake gold jewelry on eBay the whole Mr. T idea is ruined Sara. Did you hear me, ruined!” or…
“Which name do you like better John, Steven or Jack?”
“That depends, which costume do you like better, Kramer or Kanye?” or…
“My water just broke!”
“My oversized clock just broke! Damn it, looks like I’m not Flavor Flav anymore!”
Which is why the baby must be conceived on Halloween, and born in early July. This means no chance of Baby Shawn Kemp-Horst being born around Halloween, and still time to focus on a badass costume. You’re welcome for the family planning.
It was great to hear John’s previous costumes, but he left out his greatest costume of all time. In 2000 he went as me. But it wasn’t me, it was the 1997 version of me. 1997 was our freshman year in college, and I had a trademark Indians hat I wore everywhere, a Tommy Hilfiger party shirt reserved for Friday or Saturday night, oversized jeans, and a my-first moustache. So John grew a moustache for a few days, snuck in to my closet and stole the exact clothes I used to wear (I don’t know why I still had them), and walked around all night as me. If he had only made out with a stranger and blacked out at the end of the night it would have been a perfect recreation.
So despite all this excitement John brings to Halloween every year, I never really got into it as much as he did. This was actually the first year in a long time I dressed up (I was the Undertaker). I mean, I guess I liked Halloween……when I was 6.
If I were to compare holidays to ice cream flavors, Halloween is the butter pecan of holidays. Butter pecan is alright if you have no other ice cream in the house, but you don’t really get excited over butter pecan ice cream. It’s not like you go to Dairy Queen and order a butter pecan ice cream cone. Unless you’re over the age of 65. In my experience, the only people that eat butter pecan ice cream are old enough to be on medicare. They might as well just stamp “AARP Approved” in large print on the front of every box so the old people can read it, and know they’re getting a product that they, and their peers, are sure to enjoy. So if Halloween is the butter pecan of holidays, that means Thanksgiving is the double chocolate fudge peanut butter cup ice cream of holidays.
Thanksgiving (which is only 17 days away), is a great celebration of my favorite of the 7 deadly sins, gluttony. And it also celebrates one of my other favorite pastimes, laziness. With all the other holidays, there’s too much pressure. Take Christmas. You’ve got to buy people gifts, and what if they get me a gift and I don’t get them one, and what size should I buy, and how much should I spend on this person, and attaching gift receipts, and Secret Santa at work, and wondering if gift cards are too informal, and crowded malls, and waiting on things that were shipped, and attending terrible office Christmas parties, and the constant Christmas music. And there are similar pressures for Halloween. What should I go as this year? Will someone else have my costume? Is my costume offensive? Has enough time passed to impersonate this celebrity that recently died? Do I have enough time to whittle a replica gun for my costume, and if so, do I jeopardize getting a splinter? The only pressure on Thanksgiving is the pressure on your belt loops as your stomach expands after your third helping of pumpkin pie.
Here’s my typical Thanksgiving day, which is probably like many of yours:
9:30: Wake up. I’m not at work, so the day is starting off great. The first thing I put on is sweatpants. Elastic is my friend today.
10:00: Eat a light breakfast. Some people want to starve themselves before Thanksgiving dinner, but that is the wrong approach. You don’t see marathon runners casually stroll up to the starting line and then just take off running. You have to stretch a little – get the blood flowing. I try to avoid toast or bagels for breakfast. That bread is just taking up room that could be later occupied by mashed potatoes and gravy. Sure the bread might have moved out of my stomach by then, but I’m not willing to take that chance.
10:30-1:00: Do whatever the hell I want to. I read the newspaper, play video games, watch football or take a mid-morning nap. Basically I’m just killing time until the food comes out. I usually offer to help my mom, even though I don’t really mean it. She always says she doesn’t need my help, which is great for me. Maybe it’s because I say, “Do you need my help” with the enthusiasm of a cashier at McDonalds when they ask, “Can I take your order?” I think that she senses my desire to go lie back down on the couch, and being the good mother she is, wants me to be happy. And just like elastic, the horizontal, lying down position is also my friend today.
This point of the day always makes me consider that while this may be my favorite day of the year, this is probably my mom’s least favorite. Getting up early and cooking a ton of food all day long with no help, watching your lazy son sleep on the couch while you make gravy from scratch, and then not even enjoying the meal be cause you are too busy making sure all the food is out does not sound like a fun day to me. At this point when the guilt starts to set in, I distract myself with one of the aforementioned activities.
1:00: The appetizers are put out. I have about 30 minutes until my relatives come, so I quickly change from my sweatpants (unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find jeans with elastic). I take the best looking appetizers before anyone else shows up, and strategically rearrange the remaining appetizers to make it look like none have been taken. It’s probably a giveaway that I’ve already started eating when I greet my aunt and my breath smells like shrimp and cocktail sauce, but no one has complained yet.
Sidenote: I hate when I’m at a restaurant and the waitress calls appetizers “apps.”
“You guys want to get started with one of our famous apps – the ka-boom spicy chicken fingers or our Freddies Fries are my favorites!”
“No, but since we’re shortening words I’ll have a Sam Ad’s and my wife will have a Grey Goo on the rocks and we’ll go straight to the dinner menu.”
Sidenote 2: I refuse to say those ridiculous names on the menu they use to make every dish sound fun. It started about 6 years ago when I was at Outback, and wanted the Jack-A-Roo Chops. They’re just fucking pork chops, I don’t know why the name needs all the bells and whistles. I felt so stupid calling them the “Jack-A-Roo Chops”, when the waitress came around to me I just pointed at the menu and pretended I couldn’t talk. I’ve done it ever since.
1:30: My family begins showing up. I quickly say hello, and claim my seat on the couch. I know I’ve got about 90 minutes before dinner, and my view of football will not be obstructed.
3:00: We eat dinner. I firmly believe gravy is the best part of the meal, because of its versatility. Not only is it a topping for potatoes and turkey, but it’s also used as a dipping sauce for your roll. Show me how a whittled gun or leather vest can do those things.
4:00 Dinner ends. I’m usually good for 2-3 full plates of food. As I’m finishing my second plate of food, the thing I’m most thankful for that day is having the common sense to eat a breakfast that morning which contained no bread, thus saving room for plate number three.
5:00: Dessert is brought out. The perfect storm of Thanksgiving occurs when the effects of dinner + a few glasses of wine with dinner + dessert + an after dinner drink all hit me at once. I don’t know what heaven is like, but it can’t be far off from what I experience at this point.
7:00: Everyone is leaving, and all I want to do is sleep. It’s about five hours earlier than I usually go to bed, but it just feels right on this day. As far as the perfect holiday goes, give me this feeling of complete fullness and laziness over hanging out with a douchebag in an $800 costume any day.
Holiday: Ice Cream Conversion
Thanksgiving: Double Chocolate Fudge Peanut Butter Cup
St. Patrick’s Day: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
July 4th: Mint Chocolate Chip
Christmas: Cherry Jubilee
Halloween: Butter Pecan
Labor Day: Vanilla (soft serve)
Presidents Day: any ice cream with raisins
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