Ok. So there might be such a thing as too much Halloween. I may have considered it at one point this year … possibly at the 11th hour on the afternoon of the 31st, when I was still scrambling to make the first of my two costumes.

Things were much simpler back in 1985. When I was five. And my mom was cool with me dressing as a the Demon of Richard Nixon (?) and my brother running through the streets with a realistic looking gun.
Things were much simpler back in 1985. When I was five. And my mom was cool with me dressing as the demon of Richard Nixon (?) and my brother running through the streets with a realistic gun.

It’s not so simple pulling off Hannah Montana on your left side, while looking like Miley Cyrus on your right. I’d purchased a black hoodie and a red flannel button down, cleaved each down the center and, around 5:30pm day-of, I was sewing them into one shirt like a maniac. The finished product worked out to render my left side a Demur Country Western Daughter of the Mickey Mouse Club. On my right half, the black hoodie read “Bangers Tour” in pink and had tiny figurines super-glued all over it. I pulled up my hair into a top knot and shoved Christmas decorations into the bun.

My Miley Side & Ginny, the Upper East Side Jew
My Miley Side & Ginny, the Upper East Side Jew

The second night’s costume was more intense. It demanded a trip to Sephora, an hour in the makeup chair, and sitting on my floor, making giant push-pins out of Martha Stewart brand red glitter and styrofoam balls. I rounded out my Pin-Up Voodoo Doll ensemble with David-Bowie-worthy eye shadow and pig tails … because I don’t know how to do Pin-Up Doll hair.

I love Halloween. I love it so much, I start planning around July. By September, if I haven’t narrowed it down to a solid three costumes to choose from, I (reasonably) start to panic. I always overdo it. I’ve never had a year of trick-or-treating where my fingers weren’t stiff with super glue from last minute adjustments.

I live on a diet of Sweet Tarts, Gummi Bears and the occasional fist full of candy corn for 31 straight days. The chewing of shelf-stable wax really puts me in the mood to tackle the craft store. I know you’re shaking your heads … but if Zombie Apocolypse ever happens, you candy corn haters gonna be hatin’ … but you ain’t gonna be starving. Those little Egyptian-shaped nuggets will outlast the toughest cockroaches.

So, you get the idea.

For me, it’s not the actual night of Halloween, as much as the excitement building up. I love making costumes. I adore the ride to the top of the rollercoaster as much as I like the stomach lurch when you head down. No surprise that this year, like so many others before it, I was vibrating like a chainsaw strapped to the tailpipe of a Harley all month long. Now I’ve come hurtling back to Normal November.

The sunset tonight put a curtain down on the 3rd. It’s been 75 hours since it ended, and there’s a Jaw-Breaker-shaped hole in my soul. There’s the swooping candy comedown. I’m fumbling for the Advil … lamenting red skittles, crushed like sticky ladybugs in the bottom of my purse. Not even close to a week later, and I need it to happen again.

I want to watch axe murders shuffle through the woods on my television every day. I want to laugh at college girls dressed up like slutty bottles of Extra Virgin Olive Oil, shivering in the streets … waiting on cabs that will never come. I want fake spiderwebs in the restaurants, ghosts made from old bedsheets, and Jack-o-lanterns with devious grins.

Dammit … I want to hand a stranger’s kid a Snickers Bar and have it not be weird!

Instead? There’s a lingering inch of superglue in my hair and glitter orphans in my bra. I’m contemplating making some kind of Advent Countdown Calendar to next year. I’m not even kidding.

I miss you, Halloween. I wish I could superglue you to my heart and carry you always. Always.

My night began on Avenue D, where the kids were out in a force
My night began on Avenue D, where the kids were out in a force
... as were the adults. Uh ... is this really necessary on Ave D, guys?
… as were the adults. Uh … is this really necessary on Ave D, guys?
We all knew Ebola was coming to a bar nearby. And ... it did
We all knew Ebola was coming to a bar nearby. And … it did
Bodegas are way more fun than normal
Bodegas are way more fun than normal
... as are your friend's restaurants ...
… as are your friend’s restaurants …
... and the sidewalks ...
What to be? What to be? For reals? I love this
halloween-the-wayland-cocktail-bar-new-york-city-east-village-jenny-adams-freelance-buddha-drinks-fanta-01940-2
These guys were yelling things about girls bodies, but in a really formal, old British accent. As in “Cheerio, Dear Lady! What nice plumbs you flit about with on thy chest!” #Exceptional

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The Wayland had a laser beam splitter and a smoke machine
The Wayland had a laser beam splitter and a smoke machine
As did my friends Ana & Doron, who threw a bangin' party in Queens on Saturday night
As did my friends Ana & Doron, who threw a bangin’ party in Queens on Saturday night
Whoa. Just a whole other level. (slow. clap.)
Whoa. Just a whole other level. (Slow clap)
So Long, 2014 Halloween! Thank you for a spectacular few days.
And this little girl went home late and woke up early – only to find it was November … and her sink looked like homicide scene for a fairy.