I Got Issues

Well, it is five days until Halloween. The last time I did anything for Halloween was in 1999. The events that unfolded that night were so scarring that I have boycotted the event for the past six years. All that I am able to divulge about that terrifying evening is that people dressed up in fucked up costumes in a dark bar, with black lights and loud house music do not mix well with mild hallucinogens. I will be forever grateful for the talking leopard for helping me out of that place.

Six long years have passed since then and I am much wiser and no longer dabble in such things as psychotropic experiments. I actually have two parties that I am scheduled to attend on Saturday, Halloween for the working adults. Of course, the million - dollar question is, who or what do I go as?

In my case the answer is a no-brainer. Anyone who knows me is well aware that I bare a passing resemblance to Canadian Cult Icon, Rob Wells – better known as Ricky from the Trailer Park Boys. I am excited to do it, I think that it will be hilarious, however I face one elephant of an issue. In order to pull off this Halloween image, I must shave be beard and cut my hair.

No big deal, right? For me it is. I don’t exactly know how to describe it, but I have a Sampson complex. I have gotten steadily harrier as the years have gone on. And I have gotten stronger. My strength is at its all time optimum right now, as I have long, Tony Iomi – like hair, only it ‘fro’s out on me. It is so thick that nothing can be done with it, so I wear a hat. In addition to the jungle on my head, I have also have not shaved at all since August 24th and have not shaved my goatee since June.

Yesterday I lifted a car and threw it on a little girl. I am that strong now – which is the source of my conundrum. Do I forfeit awesome, superhuman strength for maximum hilarity (Ricky is simply hysterical by nature, anyone who watches Trailer Park Boys knows this)? Well, I am going to go get rid of my Manson-esque beard and arrange it into long sideburns and a goatee.

Well, I did it – and fucked up horribly. I am still going to go ahead with my costume. It took me six years to partake in this silly day and it may be another six after this one, depending on what kind of trouble there is to get into Saturday. Tomorrow, I will get my haircut and render my being merely human again.