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Halloween Hangover



Apparently The Nightmare Before Christmas is much to old to garner immediate recognition.
  Oh God, I just Googled it – 19-freaking-93!!! That is 20 years ago!  HOLY CRAP!
  No wonder I wasn’t recognized.  Plus, I was missing some stitched-back-together
 scars when I went to work in the morning.
It was a dark and stormy night in Southern Ontario.  We had maybe a half
dozen brave visitors come to our door.  Adorable first-timers. Little pink kitty cats and lop-eared bunnies. “You will be
the first house that she came to on her first ever Halloween.”
  Good
thing I wasn’t dressed as a zombie.

What with there not being a lot of visitors, that box of a zillion miniature candy bars ended up just sitting there, it’s brightly coloured wrappers emitting a siren call.


Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Albert Einstein

Every single year.  Every single year I say that it won’t happen again. Thing is?  Those wee little candy bars?  Well, they’re so… wee.  They look so innocent, so harmless, so… not going to make you want to throw up.  I’m 45 freaking years old and I went to bed early – medicated with Gravol – with a tummy ache and questionable GI fortitude.  Next year.  Next year we will give out gift cards to Bulk Barn.  Or raisins.  How many packages of crappy raisins would a gal have to eat to make herself sick?

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