Because, really what else what a kid named Piper be for her first real Halloween?

The Pied Piper
Originally uploaded by Momish.

The hat, flute and rats were history within 10 minutes.

Trick or Treat
Originally uploaded by Momish.

Just a quick note to inform you that this is my last week at my current job.  So, unfortunately, the cheap bastards policy at my work will force me to give up my laptop by 5:00 PM tomorrow.  Bwaaaaaaa! 

Yes, of course I have a personal computer. But, it is hidden away in my dingy basement, where I can spend only a limited amount of time due to the fact that I suffer from seasonal affectiveness disorder. That, and the two litter boxes overflowing with cat shit.

So, if I seem to be less chatty after tomorrow, or start to slip off the face of the blogging earth, please forgive me. Feel free to blame it on my laziness to scoop cat poo or my fragile mental state or stupid corporate cheap bastards policy.

P.S. I’m actually gonna miss those cheap bastards fabulous co-workers of mine almost as much as this laptop. Bwaaaaaaa!

The other day my friend was recanting a crazy thing that happened to him. After he told the story, he said, “It was like a scene out of Seinfeld”.  Isn’t that the truth? Whenever anyone has some kind of wacky mishap, off the wall interaction or a stupid conversation about nothing, it always reminds us of “Seinfeld”. I am sure everyone has at least one Seinfeldesque thing that has happened to them. I’m going to share with you one of mine. If you have one you want to share, write about it, then leave me a link to it in your comments. 

This took place at Hollywood Video, standing in line waiting to pay. Right after this happened, all I could think of was how this could have been a scene right out of Seinfeld.

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Elaine: It’s your turn to pay. Here’s two bucks for my candy and soda.

Elaine pulls a few dollar bills from her wallet and hands Jerry the money. A dime falls out, she bends down and picks it up.

Jerry: I can’t believe you just did that.

Elaine: Did what?

Jerry: Bent over and picked up that dime up!

Elaine: What? What the hell are you talking about?

Jerry: It’s a dime. Why would you bother picking up a stupid dime?

Elaine: Um, gee, maybe because I dropped it!

Jerry: Still. It’s not worth the energy you exerted, it’s just a dime. That doesn’t even get you a phone call anymore.

Elaine: Are you shitting me? You wouldn’t bend over and pick up a dime that you dropped? It’s not like I just saw it there. I DROPPED IT! It would be practically littering to leave it there anyway. Geesh!

Jerry: I would have left it there. It’s not worth it for me to go through the trouble. I don’t need a dime that badly.

Elaine: Don’t compare your being too lazy to SIMPLY BEND OVER with me being desperate or needy or something!

Jerry: It’s not laziness. I might have bent over to pick up a quarter, definitely a dollar. But, a dime? That’s the same as picking up a penny these days. Worse! At least a penny on heads might bring you luck.

Elaine gives me a look of disbelief.

Jerry: If you believe that sort of thing.

There are soft chuckles going on around them, as other people in the line are obviously eavesdropping.

Elaine: You’re nuts, you know that? So what if it’s just a dime? We’re standing here doing noth-ing, we have all the time in the world. Now, I can see letting it go if I was running for a train. I mean, I wouldn’t miss my train to stop and pick up a dime, even if I dropped it. Or, say, if it rolled ten feet away, then I wouldn’t go chasing after it into traffic. But. We. Are. Just. Standing. here.

Long pause, they both walk forward as the line moves up.

Jerry: You’re just cheap.

Elaine: I’M NOT CHEAP! IT’S MY DIME!

More chuckles. Another long pause.

Elaine: Besides, a dime is worth something. Even today. Maybe not a phone call, sure. But, you can buy a chocolate covered cherry at Wawa with a dime. I am always buying chocolate covered cheeries. I love them! They are surely worth bending over for, let me tell you. Not to mention how many times a dime can save your ass from breaking a whole dollar. You betcha a dime is worth it!

Elaine: (mumbling) Lazy ass.

By now, they are at the counter being rung up. Elaine is tossing her precious dime up in the air and catching it over and over again while she rambles on, getting more and more agited. All around them, customers are shaking their heads in disbelief with slight smirks on their faces.

Just then the cashier starts busting out laughing.

Cashier: You’re total is fourteen dollars. And ten cents.

Elaine snatches the dime out of the air and holds it tight to her chest. Jerry just looks at her.

Jerry: Give me that dime. Please!

Elaine: Oh, you most certainly can have it…

She drops the dime.

He bends over and picks it up.

Has anyone ever told you that you look like someone famous? Tell me, how does that make you feel?

Back in the 80’s I wore my hair in a bob and dyed it red, real red (as in Clairol Flame #78 red). People always told me I looked like Molly Ringwald. Trust me, aside from the red hair, I don’t look anything at all like Molly Ringwald. She was famous then and no one bothered to look past the glaring red hair to see anything else. Still, Molly Ringwald was cute.

Many years later as I got older looking and I let my hair grow longer, back to my natural dark brown, I would sometimes get Janis Joplin. I have seen many photos of Janis Joplin. In just about everyone of them, she has a messy, out of control, uncombed mop of hair on her head. Yep. I can see where someone would make this connection between us. My hair has constantly been the greatest angst in my life, as far as my physical appearance goes. It seemed pretty obvious that, yet again it was the hair thing and nothing much else.

But, all that was before anyone ever heard of Alanis Morissette. Once she came on the scene, I cannot count the number of times people have said I look EXACTLY like her. At first, I just brushed it off.  Again, the few photos I had seen of Alanis show a hippy type rocker chick in black clothing with long, unruly, moppy brown hair. Same old story.

Except, strangers would walk up to me in the street, would walk across a room to say nothing else except how much I look like Alanis Morisette. Not to mention that Alanis wasn’t dead, nor was she a one-hit-wonder, so this comparison to her just kept increasing. So, I took another look at this person. And, for once, I actually had to agree that I did look a lot like her, or she looked a lot like me (depending if you are ranking by fame or age).

Only, coming to this realization didn’t exactly thrill me. Although Alanis Morisette is talented, strong, admirable and has much integrity, she wasn’t exactly what I would describe as pretty. I mean, I realize she’s not deformed or ugly. But, she was no beauty queen. And really, deep down, I didn’t want to remind people of Alanis Morisette, but of Jennifer Aniston or Belinda Carlisle (that’s what some of friends got). Fat chance. I started to get a complex all over again. She came onto the scene at a time I was finally coming to grips with my looks. I had always known I wasn’t a classic beauty. With my difficult hair and innate laziness, I never could accomplish that pulled together or perfectly polished look. I was never chased after by the boys, never stared at with envy by other girls, never sought out by the popular crowd. But, by this time in my life, I had a decent figure and a sense of style all my own, so I thought the overall package I presented was at least average, if not somewhat attractive. This whole Alanis Morisette thing came as a crushing blow. And the renewed sense of insecurity penetrated deeper than just my dreadful hair.

Thankfully, shortly after, she was in the movie Dogma. It was a bit part, but it was the ultimate role. She played God. I got to see her in movement, live in action and bigger than life. I got to see her smile. And, you know what? She wasn’t so bad. In fact, she seemed like the kinda person I would take to almost immediately, her personality seemed to shine through. She was charismatic. Little by little, I came to peace with my looks again and worried more about who I was instead of what I looked like. It probably won’t be the last time I become self-conscious over my physical appearance. Unless I wake up one day and see Angelina Jolie staring back at me in the mirror, I know I will never be completely satisfied. But, with age comes the wisdom that looks don’t always matter the most, and that they seem to morph according to your perception of someone.