I never get gussied up for Halloween. The last time I made any effort to look Halloween-fancy, I was twelve, and my friend and I decided to enjoy one last trick-or-treat before we became Women and stopped such foolishness. We were both gypsies, because we were lazy. For most years I was a gypsy or a hobo, which meant that I either wore my mom's clothes or my dad's. That year I went for the former, and in addition to draping myself with my mom's finest costume jewelry, I liberally applied rouge and various goops and glitters to my face, in the Romany style. We knocked on a neighbor's door and a particularly unfriendly older woman I had never seen before opened it, glared at us, and announced, "You're just using Halloween as an excuse to put on makeup."
Oh, the shame! I ran home, scrubbed my face clean, and asked the Virgin Mary and all the saints to forgive me for parading about like a strumpet.
That last part is untrue. I did run home, horribly embarrassed at being found out (maybe everyone knows I want to look pretty! Sob!) but instead of wiping the filth off me I probably just watched Cheers and ate a bag of Reese's Mini Peanut Butter Cups while silently cursing the cranky old broad down the street.
Anyway, if you comment on this one you'll be in the running to win a Victoria's Secret Gift Card. And then you can wear sexy lingerie for Halloween and scandalize the neighborhood, or whatever.