(Werewolf Bar Mitzvah) Spooky Scary

I know it’s not even September yet, but I’m already getting really excited about Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday! I love autumn, anything pumpkin and most importantly: dressing up* and decorating. Also, I haven’t discussed my obsession with cheese spreaders on here yet (picture post to come), but my Halloween cheese spreaders are my FAVORITE.
Anyway, this weekend I’m moving into another new apartment and on the first floor of the place is the living room, dining room, screened-in porch (for drinking pumpkin beer), kitchen and office and upstairs are the two bedrooms. What better way to welcome myself with my new roommate than with this SPOOKY craft for our staircase:

Martha Stewart How-To

*I'm REALLY hoping there are opportunities to dress up this year. I've known what I've wanted to be since about February: Patty Hearst.

Is This An Audience or An Oil Painting?

Sometime in the absolutely drunken haze of Saturday, I agreed to something completely stupid. Surprising, right? Four of my friends were sitting on the edge of a planter in the backyard of Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg, and I was standing in front of them and made the comment that I felt like a (bad) stand-up comedian. So, I start telling the four jokes I know - all of which I didn't write - but have been in my rotation since fourth grade.
Well, the details are fuzzy (again: surprising, right?), but within minutes a friend had his fancy phone out looking for open mic nights in the area in the next two weeks. I agreed to do stand-up because "it has to be SO easy." Crap.
So, instead of having a relaxing few weeks left in New York, I have to write a stand-up routine because a promise is a promise. There will be NO VIDEO of this, but I'm imagining it will go something like this:

Cuspid Cupid

Instead of telling you another boring story about me, I've decided to tell you a story about someone else. This is a story a friend I've known for 27 years told me awhile ago, and I just remembered it on the way to work today. Let's call my friend "Mom", you know, just for the sake of identification.
"Mom" comes from and has raised a family that rarely (unless drunk) talks about bedroom activity in public, so this was a particularly shocking story to hear. She has always maintained that she'd only been with the man she married, let's call him "Dad". Well, it turns out that while that was true, it wasn't for lack of trying with someone else.
Her friends and her all grew up in a small town in Connecticut, with a very limited dating pool. Her husband is actually her brother's old best friend. "Mom" and her friends were all out at the local bar, and a man starting hitting on her. She was at the point where she thought she should just do "it" and get it over with.
Her friends were encouraging her to go for it, too. Not because they thought it was time, but because both of them had already slept with him and "he was the best [they'd] ever had." So, it was set. If you're going to go through with it, it may as well be with the best her small town had to offer. "Mom" and "The Best" went back to his apartment to do the deed.
Now, in the time in between Mom's foray and her friends' experience, "The Best" had been in a bad car accident, but luckily wasn't too injured. The only casualty was his teeth; he'd slammed into the steering wheel and all the ones in the front were knocked out. But, he had dentures, so you couldn't even tell.
Things were heating up, and "The Best" says, "I'll be right back" and goes to the bathroom. He returns, but without his teeth in, ready to go. Poor "Mom" is so horrified that she makes up some lame excuse, and runs out of the apartment. I'm sure it was really alarming to see a toothless man coming to deflower you, but would you forgo "The Best" if he had no teeth?

Just Another Case of Mistaken (Anal) Identity

I had dinner at a friend's house this week and when we sat down to eat, she got all excited and said, "Oh! I thought of you last week." "Oh yeah?" Maybe she saw a dress I might like, or jar of peanut butter at the grocery store that reminded her of me.
"Yeah. I finally tried anal and it's exactly like you said. I totally thought I was going to poop!"
Hold on. Hold it RIGHT there. You're safe, it's ok. If you have done that before and you're reading this, don't worry, this is a judgment free (and no spin) zone. But for the love of God, that was NOT me who told her anything about it. I have absolutely no interest in doing that, nor discussing it with friends!
A few friends get frustrated with me that I don't go into too many details about the boudoir, so the details she was giving me were making me severely uncomfortable. She kept elaborating before I could stop her and say, "NOT ME! NOT ME! NOT ME!"
What's worse is that I think her husband used my supposed willingness to do that act in order to convince her to do it. Apparently he said, "Everyone does it - even [name redacted]!" I'm also curious if when she says, "I thought of you" - at what point did she think of me? Actually, I may not want to know the answer to that.