Just launched a special feature: The Creepy Commercials Countdown!
A nice guy named Larry donated a slew of ancient Halloween-themed TV commercials, and in the spirit of making mountains out of molehills, I’m turning them into a month-long event. Every day during October, a new (old) creepy commercial will be posted. Up first something about fruit snacks and skeletons, from 1989. Go, read!
Part of me felt like I should’ve just made those entries a part of the blog, but, eh, blog entries have a tendency to get buried. I’d like to be able to point to this later and say, “See, I did this in 2012. I chose the obnoxious peach background all by myself.”
Besides, I have other things to fill the blog with. Like pictures of my cat.
That’s Kitten. Technically “Saturn,” but we never call her that. She’s “Kitten.” Ten-year-old “Kitten.”
Kitten is an unpredictable cat, capable of loving and annihilating with equal passion. She’s the one we have to warn people about.
“Don’t pet Kitten. Do not make eye contact with Kitten.”
Kitten will bite and scratch over the smallest infraction. Don’t even think about touching her back legs, because her reaction should be studied by army generals. Handling Kitten is a bit like handling an alligator. You have to cradle her with one arm, and clamp her trap shut with your free hand. This isn’t an ideal situation for anyone involved, so when it comes to cat/human interaction, we generally let Kitten make the first move.
Anyway, that’s her. She’s trying to chew the yoke off a six-pack.
…which brings me to my point: Halloween soda!
Well, actually, the sodas are in their normal flavors. It’s the cans that got the upgrades. Four big name brands, redressed for the Halloween season with terrifying designs.
The really cute thing is how tiny they are. There are eight ounces in each can, and though that’s only a 33.3333333% drop from the norm, they seem more like half the normal size. They’re perfect for parties, and I imagine that that’s their purpose. Tiny cans of Halloween soda, for tiny people’s elementary school costume parties. Read More…
The Halloween season is officially here. There’s exactly one month to soak up everything it has to offer. Strange candy, hayrides, and masks that smell like toxic chemicals. Even the gloomiest mofos would have to admit that October is one of the most bearable months of the year.
Since it’s October 1st, it’s of course time for THE HALLOWEEN MOOD TABLE.
If you’re a new reader: This tradition began on X-Entertainment, back in 2007. That was not a terrific year for me, and in fact, it was the only year I ever outright canceled the Halloween Countdown. Among other issues, my usual spirit just wasn’t there.
In a desperate attempt to remember why I loved Halloween so much, I started decorating a small table. I covered this table with happy, haunted things. When it was finished, I saw a miracle. In at least one corner of one room, everything was right with the world.
Every year since, I’ve made – and written about – a Halloween Mood Table. No two have looked remotely alike, but they all served the same grand purpose. It’s such an easy thing to do, and it goes so far in making your October feel like October.
I encourage you all to make one, and if you’re having trouble figuring out what this entails, here’s what I came up with for 2012:
Bam. A table covered with Halloween wonders, absolutely guaranteed to make every day better. Until November, at least.
There’s no way to make a bad Halloween Mood Table. You’re only doing it wrong if you’re not making it for yourself. Hell, you don’t even have to use a real table. Make a Halloween Mood Chair, I don’t care.
The idea is to give your home at least one small area where Halloween reigns supreme. On those dark days when October feels no better than any other month, your Mood Table will remind you that it is. The best thing about Halloween is its ability to transform even the most mundane activity into bloodcurdling joy, and your Mood Table will constantly encourage you to make the best haunted lemonade you can. Read More…
Wow, September is almost over. That’s scary. Hope you’re enjoying Dino Drac’s Halloween Countdown so far. Bigger things are coming in October!
When I went to Dollar Tree last week, I also picked up a bunch of masks. They’d be pretty terrible if put to use as non-ironic Halloween costumes, but if you judge them more as interpretive works of art, they’re a-okay.
On the other hand, the great thing about trick-or-treating is its loose dress code. If all you care about is the candy, any costume will do.
It was a long time ago, but I remember being at that delicate age – the age when you’re not too old to go trick-or-treating, but somehow too old to wear cheesy costumes in public. Back then, my friends and I totally relied on cheap, shitty masks like these. On Halloween or the night prior, we’d grab whichever masks were left at our local pharmacy, no matter how stupid they were. When we went trick-or-treating, we’d only slip ’em on just before knocking on strangers’ doors.
After collecting our loot, we hid the masks in our trick-or-treat sacks. To continue the illusion that we weren’t trick-or-treating, our treat sacks were actually just our schoolbags. When we passed by the other, older kids — the ones who’d so suddenly declared that Halloween was lame, and that anyone who celebrated it was deserving of punches — they were never the wiser.
Masks like Dollar Tree’s would’ve worked just fine for those purposes. There will always a plus when you’re willing to sift through decades of repressed memories to find it.
We’re going to run through the six masks Dollar Tree had available, and our model will be Harley the Crite. There are several reasons for this. Most importantly, the masks, while technically not too small for my face, are small enough to make me appear like I have an enormous head. I’m not publishing photos if they’re only going to insinuate that my head is two feet wide.
Also, so far this season, Harley really hasn’t gotten his fair share of the spotlight. For those unfamiliar, allow me to introduce you.
“This is Harley. I caught him using Hostess Scary Cakes as bait. “
Now let’s dress him up like monsters. Read More…
My friend “D” mailed me a spooky care package, and among its incredible contents was one of RoseArt’s Halloween Color Blanks. The one that looks like a pumpkin.
My first thought? “Pretty cool.” My second thought? To run out and buy the remaining two Halloween Color Blanks. And my third thought had something to do with grasshoppers.
They arrive as featureless albinos. The Color Blanks, I mean. Not the grasshoppers.
Actually, if you count the eggs, grasshoppers do, too.
It’s up to us to turn them into artful creatures with real pumping hearts, and I really do mean the Color Blanks this time. This isn’t my first go at coloring a Color Blank, but it is my first go at a Color Blank with a pumpkin for a head.
They’re on sale at Target, and I assume, other stores. Though my Color Blank fever was running too high to be bothered to check, I’m pretty sure they were five bucks each. I admit that there’s a small cynic living inside me, and this cynic believes they cost closer to $7. Read More…
Today is September 25th, 2012.
And this, a page from one of my old journals, was written exactly nineteen years ago.
If I have things straight, I would’ve been in the ninth grade. A frosh in high school. God. Read More…
Yesterday morning, we drove out to God Knows Where, searching for some New Jersey farmers’ market I remembered visiting last year. I swore it was only twenty minutes away, but Sunday’s events proved otherwise.
Eventually, we found it. And, hell yes, they still had the same assortment of insanely hot peppers from last year. Lots of pumpkins, too. I even found enormous sweet potatoes. Honest to God, each was as large as a two-month-old child.
Somewhere in the middle of that, I saw the Venus Flytraps.
I know I wrote about them years ago, but so what? It’s not against the law to write about Venus Flytraps twice. Don’t tell me what to do. The last person who tried is now in me.
I guess we can blame a steady diet of grade school plant sales and VHS rentals of Little Shop of Horrors, but I never considered Venus Flytraps as normal plants, or even “plants” at all. To me, they’ve always been animals. They have emotions and personalities. They feel pain, and they appreciate those who keep them from experiencing it.
As you could guess, I bought a few new Flytraps.
After leaving the market, we ended up at some really bad strip mall’s really bad sushi joint. Their spicy tuna rolls had a mouthfeel comparable to Elmer’s glue, and the whole place reeked like a tackle shop. But that’s neither here nor there.
The point is, I spent the entire awful dining experience complaining that Ms. X wasn’t eating fast enough. I was unreasonably worried about leaving my Flytraps in the hot car. I really do view them as “pets.” Read More…