I am a huge fan of holidays. Not for socially correct reasons beaten into us by parents - like love for your family, the "giving" mindset, or quality time with your loved ones. No, I am definitely not a giver; I love holidays for what they do for ME.
And why shouldn't I? The bulk of my time for each day/week/month year goes to servicing others and making the rich even richer, ranging from the boss's Yoda vocabulary in my professional life ("Logistics you have, effort levels you don't?") to my personal life ("was it supposed to end this quick?"), even extending into my beloved TV time ("is ExTenze right for you?"). And then comes the relief that for one night, for one solitary night of drinking, costumes and debauchery, social constraints don't apply. I love Halloween.
Halloween is the calendars gift to all blood n' guts movie-loving fans, NBA die hards, social deviants...and whores. And no one appreciates this simple fact more than me. I yearn each for October to roll in and eclipse dreary September, knowing that I will be blessed with the opportunity to view a few classic horror movies, cheer for my Warriors, pick up a cool mask and costume to end the 31st with, and see a lot of exposed cleavage.
Though there wasn't any Golden State Warriors frenzy present, this years' horror appetizer "Chain Letter" had all the makings of an instant TNT classic. And by classic, I mean an intense killer, graphic murders, and (sadly) brief nudity. The disfigured Chain Man, the prolific chain-wielding killer from Chain Letter, might not have a single line in the movie but what he lacks in vernacular, he more than makes up for with gory eviscerations and a Ninja Gaiden-type mask. You know, all white, enveloping the head AND mouth area; because he obviously needs to breath back in the air he just exhaled. The mask itself automatically identifies the movie with the horror theme, similar to how "Scream" made the corny white ghost mask with the dropped jaw fashionable for a good 2 year stretch.
Its cool horror-movie masks and motifs like that that makes Halloween all the more enviable to party-goers throughout the nation. More so for the guys, however. We can hit up our neighborhood's seasonal Halloween store (that was a run down Save Mart on September 29) and pick up gear from our favorite horror movies, like Chain Letter. What's even better about the Halloween apparel season (aside from B-level wardrobe accessories, obviously) is that for all the creativity I might put into an outfit along the lines of Freddy, Jason, or the Chain Man, drunken socialites and the classiest of sorority chicks will do the polar opposite: less equals more. Ah, whores.
Awards for the best costume won't go to the guy with a head full of pins and 3 hours of makeup (a la the late 1980's Hell raiser classic); no, they will go to a perverse ex-cheerleader sporting a mini skirt & thong combination, push-up bra and just enough Bacardi in her to prove to the room she can still do the splits, thus effectively saving all "Megan's Law" members from having to use an expensive rufy. As if their inner selves hid from perverted eyes for the previous 364 days of the year and came out on All Hallows Eve with pent-up anticipation and a penchant for promiscuity. Ah, whores. If only your sloppy night could last for another twelve hours, preferably while you wear the Chain Man's mask. I love Halloween! - 40723
And why shouldn't I? The bulk of my time for each day/week/month year goes to servicing others and making the rich even richer, ranging from the boss's Yoda vocabulary in my professional life ("Logistics you have, effort levels you don't?") to my personal life ("was it supposed to end this quick?"), even extending into my beloved TV time ("is ExTenze right for you?"). And then comes the relief that for one night, for one solitary night of drinking, costumes and debauchery, social constraints don't apply. I love Halloween.
Halloween is the calendars gift to all blood n' guts movie-loving fans, NBA die hards, social deviants...and whores. And no one appreciates this simple fact more than me. I yearn each for October to roll in and eclipse dreary September, knowing that I will be blessed with the opportunity to view a few classic horror movies, cheer for my Warriors, pick up a cool mask and costume to end the 31st with, and see a lot of exposed cleavage.
Though there wasn't any Golden State Warriors frenzy present, this years' horror appetizer "Chain Letter" had all the makings of an instant TNT classic. And by classic, I mean an intense killer, graphic murders, and (sadly) brief nudity. The disfigured Chain Man, the prolific chain-wielding killer from Chain Letter, might not have a single line in the movie but what he lacks in vernacular, he more than makes up for with gory eviscerations and a Ninja Gaiden-type mask. You know, all white, enveloping the head AND mouth area; because he obviously needs to breath back in the air he just exhaled. The mask itself automatically identifies the movie with the horror theme, similar to how "Scream" made the corny white ghost mask with the dropped jaw fashionable for a good 2 year stretch.
Its cool horror-movie masks and motifs like that that makes Halloween all the more enviable to party-goers throughout the nation. More so for the guys, however. We can hit up our neighborhood's seasonal Halloween store (that was a run down Save Mart on September 29) and pick up gear from our favorite horror movies, like Chain Letter. What's even better about the Halloween apparel season (aside from B-level wardrobe accessories, obviously) is that for all the creativity I might put into an outfit along the lines of Freddy, Jason, or the Chain Man, drunken socialites and the classiest of sorority chicks will do the polar opposite: less equals more. Ah, whores.
Awards for the best costume won't go to the guy with a head full of pins and 3 hours of makeup (a la the late 1980's Hell raiser classic); no, they will go to a perverse ex-cheerleader sporting a mini skirt & thong combination, push-up bra and just enough Bacardi in her to prove to the room she can still do the splits, thus effectively saving all "Megan's Law" members from having to use an expensive rufy. As if their inner selves hid from perverted eyes for the previous 364 days of the year and came out on All Hallows Eve with pent-up anticipation and a penchant for promiscuity. Ah, whores. If only your sloppy night could last for another twelve hours, preferably while you wear the Chain Man's mask. I love Halloween! - 40723
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To learn more about Chain Letter,stop by the official site where you can find out all about the movie. Also visit Youtube and check out the official trailer.
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