This election week, the staff at Jezebel has been eating like shit. Like, consuming a vegetable has become so rare, it’s a noteworthy reason to message someone and say, “Hey, I had a salad, praise me,” like we’re goddamn children. Personally, I’ve inhaled more pasta than I’d care to admit, and one day this week, seriously considered washing it down with chocolate milk and a side of tostones and mayo-ketchup. I’m almost 30. That’s repulsive.
And it got me thinking—maybe everyone is making fucked up meals for themselves, or at least snacking on, I don’t know, pickles and chocolate or hot dogs and marshmallows. What’s the most chaotic thing you’ve ever made for yourself? And was it… actually okay? Drop your messed-up recipes in the comments below.
But first, let’s take a look at last week’s winners: these are your most stressful Halloween celebrations.
¿Donde está la biblioteca?, okay, you win:
Probably the Halloween party I was invited to by my ex-boyfriend. Don’t worry: he’s dead now and it’s no great loss to humanity, believe me.
Anyway, I was dragged along to a “gay Halloween party” by my ex and I was told absolutely nothing about what to expect. All I was told was that I had to get dressed up, so, naturally I decided to go as Mario to the dickhead’s Luigi. Except he decided to go as some two-bit penny-whore version of Luigi (the sort you’d expect to see on some thunder-thighed twat at DragonCon or ComiCon). This should have been my first warning.
Anyhow, we turn up at the party and I was, ahem, mildly perturbed to find that “party” was really just a codeword for “unabashed orgy”. It was at some random guy’s house in the countryside near Strathaven (country town in Scotland. Very wannabe posh and very new-money) where it seemed that the owner had invited nearly fifty guys from the Central Belt – that’s the area in Scotland between Glasgow and Edinburgh – to basically cavort around the house in next-to-nothing and have random and frequent sex. Heydy ho. The ex, unsurprisingly, was all for it. Me? Well put it this way – I’d been to see Eyes Wide Shut and, well, let’s leave it there. I don’t know what my twenty year-old twinky self was expecting, to be honest. Bobbing for apples instead of cocks? Pin the tail on the donkey instead of pin the dildo?
It was about twenty minutes into the whole uncomfortable (fnarr) event that I realised my ex had wandered off with someone and I was feeling the need to fucking flee (hopefully before they unleashed the monstrous entity under the floorboards or whatever. God knows it wouldn’t be a virgin sacrifice that night…) and so I wandered into the kitchen, possibly looking for either a cold beer or the fucking back door (again, fnarr) so I could leave. In the kitchen I encountered a man, about ten years older than me. Remarkably handsome guy, and unlike the rest of the house guests, he was fully dressed as I was. He had decided to come as Gomez Addams. We started chatting and eventually he said “Look, I’m a bit fucking freaked out. Want to head into town?” And so, we escaped from the Rando House o’ Shagging. He drove me back to where I lived and we went our separate ways. The next day the ex phones me, furious that I left without him, we had a huge fight (screaming, shouting, stroppy phone antics whilst I had a coffee and a roll and sausage) and he dumped me for someone less “prudish” (forgive me, but I wasn’t about to start going about sticking things or having things stuck into me without protection. This was 19-fucking-99 and AIDS was still very much a real fucking killer at that time). I wasn’t heartbroken, believe me.
The only upside from that party was that Gomez Addams and I have remained friends since then and we both tell the story of that party both as a joke (he saw a lotmore than I did, believe me) and as a cautionary tale to the young gays.
But yeah, if your boyfriend invites to you to a “sexy house party” – fucking well avoid!
DerbyDuck42, were you sober? This strikes me as… impossible:
I decided to dress as a nun and go around my downtown celebration on roller blades. (I told everybody I was a Holy Roller – get it? – but I was inspired by The Penguin from The Blues Brothers.)
The nun costume was long. Most of my attention was spent not tripping over the hem.
I never ate asphalt, but I did get a little close for comfort at least twice.
(I did get recruited by the local roller derby team and got to take a picture with two prepubescent Blues Brothers on bicycles, so it was totally worth it.)
Devonna, this is, indeed, very stressful:
I was bringing my new boyfriend out on Halloween to a bar crawl with a bunch of my good friends. It was his first time really hanging out with us as a group. We arrive and my good friend, Louisa, introduces me to one of her good friends, Jon.
I was shocked to realize Jon was someone I had a brief fling with about ten years ago and it ended badly when a ‘helpful friend’ decided to intervene on my behalf. This ‘helpful friend’ told him he was ignoring me and that he should pay better attention to me, all without my knowledge. Jon thought I put the friend up to it and said he never wanted to speak to me again.
Anyway, I pretended I never met Jon before, was internally mortified, and really stressed out that my new boyfriend would get jealous. Halfway through the evening, I told my boyfriend about Jon, our fling, and its bad ending. New boyfriend thought it was hilarious and really didn’t give a shit one way or another, even drinking with Jon and making small talk.
Two years later, it’s our third Halloween together and my boyfriend is definitely a keeper.
PheidippidesSweatySandals, awe:
Twenty years ago, shortly after I moved back to the States, I was invited to aHalloween party by some new friends. I didn’t have anything better to do, and my crush was supposed to be there, so I got myself gussied up and went. Moments after I parked, an old pickup pulled up behind me and just sat there idling. I got this weird, fatalistic type feeling about it, but I blew it off and went inside – after making sure my car was locked!
Several minutes later, the guy in the pickup rings the doorbell, identifies himself as someone’s friend and is let inside even though nobody knows him from Adam. This guy is plain as a parson, dressed abominably, and awkward AF. Lucky me, after about 10 minutes of standing in a corner, this dude decided he was my new BFF. He either followed or sat next to me the entire. effing. night. Sometimes talking, but more often than not just sitting there. If I got up, he would follow along a few minutes later. Every time I would try to talk to my crush, guess who was there? We were even partnered up for some stupid game. I ended up leaving early when he was in the bathroom or something.
Monday morning, I’m telling my cube-mate all about it when an email pops up. Yes, it was from him. He got my email from the evite and would I like to go out with him sometime? (Um, no.) More emails over the next couple of days. (No, no, no.) Eventually he offered to pay for a ticket to a movie I was planning to see anyway, so I said we could meet at the theater but that was it and to not get any ideas: he’s just the friend of an acquaintance.
Reader, I married him.
Feel free to get graphic below. Jez readers can stomach it.
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