smell my feet

Good news: when I'm talking with French people lately, I participate a lot more in the conversation. Either it's my French is improving or it's because lately the topic of conversation is usually Halloween, a subject I know a lot more about than my flat-mates, who just bought a giant bag of oeuf plat (fried egg) gummies and pink marshmallows they're going to hand out to kids on the street on Halloween.



Everyone's getting stoked for the "Halloween" party this Friday. I'm putting that in quotes because when I ask what people were dressing up as they all said they're wearing orange and black. "The colors of Halloween!" So pathetic. "That's not Halloween." I complained on our way to the cemetery yesterday. "Yeah, it's two days before Halloween. But more people were free that day." Maybe my French isn't improving after all. I decided to let my disgust go under the radar, because I thought of something way more important.

I told them about how when I was little, a bunch of people would bring their cars to a parking lot and circle up and go from trunk to trunk getting candy. So much candy, so little walking, and so much less of your mom worrying about hypodermic needles. Take that, orange and black party. I waited for their response.



"Man, that's ugly." And everyone agreed that trunk-or-treats, combined with drive-in movies, perfectly summed up how janky and lazy Americans are. What's wrong with getting ten pounds of candy, five pounds of which are those gross cherry-flavored tootsie rolls? What's wrong with a costume's value being based on how few people can guess what it is? Who on earth goes to drive-in movies anymore and when did they become janky?

Boo.