Actually, make that Boo – fucking – hoo.
No parties this weekend, but that’s alright, there was a marathon to run. It’s Monday night, so it seemed too much work to head into the city to see the freaks in the Castro (not to mention, everyone complains that the tourists gawking now outnumber the actual freaks).
With the above, I thought, OK, fair enough, but it’s still Halloween for satan’s or christ’s sake, depending on your point of view. At least we had a big bowl of candy with the prospect of trick or treaters. I like trick or treaters, or at least the little, little kids who are dazed and confused and largely mortified by the doorbell ringing, stranger’s door, can’t remember my lines, prompted “trick or treat,” mumbling “thank you” ritual.
Candy bowl by the door we cooked dinner and waited. Not one ring. Either we got home too late at 7 or my new ‘hood just doesn’t swing to Halloween. Given the demographics, maybe we should be holding out in the next couple of days for a rocking DÃa de los Muertos.