evil?

October 31st, 2005. On this day last year, I was extremely hung-over and driving from back Fairfield Connecticut after a dear friend’s wedding. Red-wine-head + Route 81 through the wastes of PA = a living hell that I hope to never, ever experience again. Pat Garrett and his Sheepskin line of fashion, those billboards haunt me. With that being said, to be at work, instead of in a car I could still hardly drive at the time, is actually a much better state of things. Although, I am on the cusp of a potentially maiming explosion of work here, as we approach the closing months of Q4. It is a sign of dark things to come when the director of your department is asking “what is our capacity? Are we at capacity? How about [fill-in-the-blank] more reports?”

That should be fun.

There were some interesting adventures to be had this weekend. Saturday, I dragged myself out of bed early to crank out a couple of chapters for the novel. The Habit, three quarters there-of, practiced during the afternoon. The practice was fun. Driving all over the globe to retrieve my beloved bomber jacket and continuing the impossible mission to get to practice not so fun. I managed to catch every traffic light and witness every accident that occurred Saturday afternoon between Ashburn, Arlington, and Rockville. How do I time these things?

Saturday evening we went out to a “haunted house” in Leesburg, VA. Every year, there is this guy who decks his house out with the zeal of a B-horror movie director. We’ll call him Scary McScaryson for lack of an actual name. Scary McScaryson turns his unassuming home into a bonafide manor of horrors, complete with tombstones and an eerie façade that covers the entire front of the joint. There was a replica of Linda Blair (exorcist) plastered to the upper portion of the house. Hi Linda! A skeleton in a rocking chair told us the story of the “curse.” I wasn’t really listening. Words cannot really describe what Scary McScaryson has done to his house. The level of alterations was freakish in terms of scope and detail. I was told he starts the transformation process at least a month out. There was nothing inside this house that even resembled an average suburban home. I’m not sure what his wife thinks of the annual remodeling. Rumors is, she is buried in the backyard where she cannot complain. Scary McScaryson hires an allstar cast of actors (desperately in need of work) to dress up like ghoulish creatures. Skillfully, they jumped out of walls and corners, saying things like “Boo!” and “Raaaarrrrrrr.” It was definitely fun. The Jen was extremely cute with her yelping and screaming. She did almost drag me to my death in an attempt to flee from the chainsaw brandishing clown. I would’ve enjoyed the experience more if my acorn-sized bladder was not at full capacity – the result of pre-haunted house cocktails. Afterwards, we had dinner and drinks at a microbrew down the road. To Joe’s house we went after dinner and I played the longest, but best game of pool ever (in the sense that I won). To Joe’s credit, I think he was drunk. Hence, the length of the game and the overall outcome.

Sunday morning, the lovely, lovely and I headed to Starbucks for some coffee and low fat breakfast sammies (seriously, they are good). First stroke of bad luck – “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have breakfast sandwiches here (sammies).” “Alright then, gimme a low fat blue berry muffin).”

No one said anything about bran. I do like bran, though. Really.

We returned home to much fanfare from the pets. The little fuzzies really do love us. Jen had set her coffee on the kitchen table (weird place to put a cup, right?) and went off to the lady’s room. A little cat by the name of Peanut was exuberantly weaving in and out of my legs. Peanut decided that she needed to get up a little higher. Peanut launches into the air, through a grande vanilla latte and onto the kitchen table. There is latte everywhere. “Goddamnit! Peanut! Why? Why?!” Her answer to that question was to do this bizarre little bobble head thing. A gestured that could be translated to mean: I’m really out of it. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m cute. Look at my bobbling head. There was $3.50 worth of coffee all over the table and the floor. Jen hears the “conversation” and comes dashing back into the room.

“Wha’ happened?” She asked. Well, it didn’t take long for the realization to grip her. The horror was almost too much for her to bear, as she shrugged and began to pull various articles of paper out of the spreading pool of spilled latte. I was still frozen in place, my lips moving soundlessly. Where was my latte? Had I left in the car or did Peanut take it to the basement to spread all over the walls and floor? Would I find her down there, just waiting to give me the middle finger? Fortunately for me, the latte was still in the car. I learned this as I headed out to Starbucks #2 to get Jen a new latte and a breakfast sammy. I am one hell of a guy. Once our refreshment situation was ironed out, we watched a few episodes of Lost. Then, it was down into the basement for me to engage in a painful writing experience. I did hit my goal, though. So, cheers to me!

The evening capped off with a nice workout at the gym and a tasty dinner of caeser salad, steamed shrimp, and mini-crab cakes. It was a good weekend.

What does this hallowed-eve have in story for me? I really don’t have any intentions for a Halloween Blowout. I plan on hiding from the trick-or-treaters (Probably in a tree and then I’ll drop down and yell “BOO!”). I’d like to get a solid 10K-word evening in. Then, perhaps afterwards, I’ll have a cocktail at the pub or a bit of stargazing.

Current research: