After the last time I criticized my fiance Theresa, when I got on her case about being overly picky with the bagels and ice and how she always finds "one more thing" for us to do while we're out and about, I promised myself that I'd leave her alone for a while. This was partly because I don't want to come across as being a mean-spirited jerk, but if we're going to be completely honest, I'm really tired of sleeping on the sofa. So believe me when I tell you I really didn't plan on picking on her anytime soon.
But then she went and did something that makes it absolutely impossible for me not to share it with you, the outside world.
I need to start by saying that of all the holidays on the calendar, Halloween is the one Theresa looks forward to the most. She loves Christmas, of course, and every Easter she always fills our pantry with a stunning array of Peeps, but nothing compares to her pathological obsession with Halloween. Every year, she buys a few more creepy accessories and decorations for the house. Fake spider webs for the front porch, plastic pumpkins, glow-in-the-dark skeletons, candy bowls with a bony hand sticking up from the bottom -- you name it, we have it.
I'm not complaining, exactly. Some of the stuff is pretty cool, especially the electronic Frankenstein that talks and removes its own head. And once we get all the decorations in place, our house could give Disneyland's Haunted Mansion a run for its money. Trick or treaters are always impressed, and it's kind of fun to see the little ones approach our front door with trepidation, like they're thinking "man, I don't know if a fun-size Snickers bar is worth wetting my Spiderman costume for."
None of that, however, makes up for the ridiculous crap Theresa bought for the house the other night.
We were shopping at Vons Supermarket for a few random groceries when Theresa noticed the Halloween supplies and decorations on display. I should mention at this point that it was Labor Day. That's right, almost two complete months until Halloween, and the goodies are already out for purchase. I don't know ANYONE who shops for Halloween stuff this early.
Okay, I take that back. I know ONE person.
I'm convinced that Theresa will buy absolutely anything that has a pumpkin or a skull on it. Take for example this bizarre statue that now graces our living room.
Where do I even begin? It looks like a cross between Bozo the Clown and the Great Pumpkin. And what the hell is he holding in his hand? A weird little parasol? Candy Corn on a Stick? I have no friggin' idea. But hey, it's a PUMPKIN! So it's ours.
Not even our dog Newton is safe from Theresa's Halloween addiction. Look what she did to him.
I think Newt should get in touch with PETA, because this is CERTAINLY not an ethical way to treat an animal. He looks like he could star in an all-canine production of The Pirates of Penzance.
But I've saved the worst for last. Of all the things Theresa has "had to have" for Halloween, this next piece of crap is by far the most ridiculous.
That's right, folks, it's a glittery cupcake with a doll's head popping out the top. At least, I think it's a doll. It sort of looks like Jack Skellington from "A Nightmare Before Christmas," but it's more like something you'd find on the Island of Misfit Toys. It's just spooky, and not in a good way. And it was SIXTEEN DOLLARS! You know how many Kit Kats that could buy?
I tried to talk her out of it. Clearly, this was a factory reject that some conniving retailer slapped a pumpkin and the word "BOO" on to pass off as a Halloween decoration. "Seriously," I said, "why the hell do we need that for our house?"
"It's unique."
"Granted, but it's ridiculous. It's a cupcake. With a head popping out."
"I know, I love it!"
Needless to say, I was unsuccessful in my effort to keep this . . . thing . . . out of our house. But we still don't see eye to eye on it, not even close. So Theresa and I have agreed to let you, dear Knucklehead readers, be the judges. Take a look once again at the Doll in a Cupcake. What do YOU think?
Is it cute? Or is it crap?
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