Halloween Haunts


Trick or Treat. 

This is just a quick little post aimed at bringing y’all up to speed on this year’s Halloween Hauntings in the Humpries Household. I swear, if Mr. Travelini (my 9th Grade English Teacher) ever performs a Vanity Google on himself and stumbles across this site and my alarming attachment to alliteration, I am so seriously screwed. 


First the Trick.

This was going to be THE YEAR. The one where I finally embraced the great gift thrust upon me and used my freakish cabeza and animated looks to draw Homer Simpson to vibrant life.

I had it all planned out. The uniform is the easy part. First, a white polo and some blinding blue pants – not Jeans – just generic blue pants. Ya’ know, what the Greatest Generation would call ‘slacks’. Yup, all I needed was a clean white short sleave ‘Jersey’ and some neatly pressed ‘Slacks’ coupled with some non-descript black shoes. With the head already shaved, a little yellow theatrical make-up with a black Sharpie (to etch that jagged line that runs along Homie’s neck seam) would cover the complexion. Then I was going to use makeup to draw on that oval of perma-stubble our main man is always sporting and finally cut a ping-pong ball in half, draw two big black dots on them for pupils and plant those bug-eyes over my peepers with some cleverly concealed string. The icing on the cake was homemade Duff Beer wrappers which would transform my Sam Adams Octoberfest into Springfield’s finest bubbly.


Then, Andi let me know of a party we were invited to where her cadre of cronies (sorry, Mr. T.) and their husbands were planning on dressing in costume. Perfect, I thought. Now I had a venue to steer my internal Simpson to.

Ahh, but there was a catch. Apparently, two of these bald dudes had caught wind of my recent deforestation and had requested that I join them in their planned Blue Man Group revue. No problem. I’d go blue this year and turn yella’ next. As for my hopes of being a Magic Eight-Ball in ’08? Outlook not so good.

Being a Blue Man seemed an easier proposition. All I needed to do was drape myself in black and paint my head blue. After the party, I could go interview at Hot Topic. And, as a side bonus, I got all the marshmallows I could jam down my pie hole – so dinner was now taken care of.

Then comes the trick. Two days before the big party, Andi receives word that everyone attending this party with us (a group of close to 16 people) had decided to go sans costume. What?!?!? A costume party without costumes is like a Festivus without The Airing of Grievances. And that’s no good. How am I gonna’ bitch about not getting to wear a costume?

So, with disappointment in hand, I made my peace with the decision and looked forward to celebrating this party dressed as myself. Hey, now that I think about it, I guess I was going to play Homer after all.


But the tricks weren’t done. On the evening of the party, just a scant hour before we were to leave, the phone rings. On the other end is one of Andi’s friends who kindly informs me that costumes are back on however Blue Man Group is off as the baldies got cold feet and were afraid that if they applied blue latex to their heads they’d somehow end up on the next episode of HBO’s Real Sex. So, here I was, an hour before party time without a costume to wear.

I debated throwing on Colin’s dragon garb. I toyed with being a princess. I scoured high and low for my ‘safety’ costume – the Castaway look – but couldn’t find my old friend, Wilson. If I didn’t have Wilson with me, who was I going to talk to? Finally, with mere minutes left on the clock, I went as the only thing I could cobble together.

A random, generic Red Sox player. I didn’t even have time enough to grow the grullet and go as Youk. I was just Bench Player #6. As lame as you could get.


But there was a bright side to all of this. When we arrived at the bar, we went to pay our cover charge. The hostess took one look at me and said “All Sox players get in free“. With another cool benjamin in my pocket, I smiled. Yup, that’s more beer for me.

Finally, I got my Treat.

Anyway, before closing, I just wanted to drop a few notes about our first foray as a family (man – I need HELP!!!!) Trick or Treating. These are the moments you dream of when you are awake at Four in the Morning nursing a sick child to sleep or getting someone a drink of water or chasing the boogeyman back into the night. Walking door to door with your brave little dragon on one side and your beautiful princess on the other – their white knight saving the day by escorting them across the busy street to reach the next candy cubbard – that’s being a Dad.

And that’s the sweetest treat of all.


Comments now closed (17)

  • While I am thrilled you not only lead with one of my photos, as well as my own handiwork (I carved that sucker), I am also in shock that you broke the licensing on said photo. “By Attribution” means you give me credit somewheres… For shame! 😉

    Of course, I kid with you on this. I was happily surprised to see my photo run again this year (you properly met the license last year!).

    Okay, now in seriousness… the kids look great! You forget to mention your costume in that last photo. I’m sorry, but you look like half of a new Millennium Massachusetts’ marriage. You look a little too fruity there bud. I think it is the camera bag looking like a purse that puts it over the top. 😉 (That sweater is nice though.)

    As for losing out on two costumes this year, look at it as having your next three years planned out! Blue Man, Homer and Magic 8-ball. All three are… wait for it… Awesome!

  • I’m fruity?!?!?!

    Have you learned nothing from this site in the past two years? It should be completely obvious by now that I have the self-confidence of a sixteen year old girl.

    And now, apparently, I look like one!!!

  • I suppose the Man-Purse you are carrying in the picture ( matching the shoes, no less!) was your costume? Or your statement? And don’t try and tell me it’s the camera bag!!

    Also, a word of warning which is clearly too late for you…speaking from experience, when you dress your little princess up like a little princess at a very young age, you will find yourself living with a not-so-little princess who still believes she is the pretty little princess in the pink tulle and tiara…

    If only her prince would come and get her!!

  • On my blog, you posted:

    Oh – Off topic. I realize I may look fruity in those pics on my site but I believe that’s probably just the way I look. It must be the bald thing. I don’t know which I like (or dislike) more – being called Homer or being called Fruity. You are either batting 1.000 or 0.000. Haven’t decided yet.

    So, I think I am batting 1.000 in that both photos referenced do appear that way to me. Maybe not to others, it is just what I see. I won’t get into the Homer one as that’s old news, but this one, it isn’t the perspective, it’s the smart looking ensemble, with the camera bag that does look like a man purse and the split second capture of your step that makes it. Now, on your next step, maybe it wouldn’t look so much like that, right?

    I am also batting .000 if you are actually offended by either comment. We are supposed to rib each other. It is what best friends do, no? Hey, and it’s not like I really believe you are fruity like I do Joe, right? There’s a big difference between looking fruity and being fruity; not that there is anything wrong with that.

    Oh, and I was going to say Metro first, but we all know that’s the same thing as a fruity, straight guy. 😉

    And… before Joe gets his briefs in a twist, I’m kidding with you too…

  • What is up with Sean calling everyone “Fruity”?? – Methinks he is trying to deflect his own inner thoughts about himself… Maybe he’s not exactly ‘metrosexual’ but something else (not that there’s anything wrong with that…)

  • Oops… I forgot one last point. I don’t think you, with your shaved cabeza, look fruity. Look at the photo above it for further evidence. (The pirate, well that’s another story.)

    Remember the first time I saw it at Mook’s BP? I commented to you that I was afraid of the fireplug looking dude crossing the street. He meant business and was looking to kick some ass. Of course, you don’t always look like that either.

    To echo the now immortal words of Jay Bain: “You look better (shaved) bald.” Of course, you looked fine beforehand, this look is just better.

  • Joe has a point. After all, I am the last single guy on the block with no prospects for marriage to any sex the state allows…

  • @Ed I suggest you wear said CAMERA BAG in a more masculine, less…er fruity…way. Get yourself a FANNY PACK!

  • That does it – my Aunt and my BFF (as in Best Friend For-NEVER) have conspired to force my hand.

    Someone please tell Colin and Aria next year that their Daddy will not be able to jet out of work two hours early and race through traffic to meet them at the entrance of the most welcoming cul-de-sac in town before sundown to bring them Trick or Treating without stopping at home to load up a backpack, fanny pack or Sherpa out of pure fear that his masculinity will be called into question. As one can clearly see in that pic – I’ve got my hands full of kids and I no longer have the luxurious locks I once had so where else was I gonna’ stick that CAMERA BAG???

    Don’t answer that!!!

    Ahhh, who am I kidding. The fact that I have two kids by my side – children who wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for my ample display of testosterone prime ought to be proof enough that I am all man, baby!!! I could impregnate the Earth if I wanted to. (Remember when this used to be such a nice, wholesome family blog.)

    Besides, why does everyone have to focus on that last shot? What about that shot above it? Tell me I don’t look like one mean mutha’!!!

    Of course, I am the same dude that also admitted to having a MAN CRUSH on Papelbon a week ago. Man, I am such a complicated dude!!!

  • Well, I guess if your camera bag didn’t look so much like my Liz Claiborne black purse…

    And you would have looked like a much meaner mutha if you hadn’t been with one of the Village People.

    ‘Nuf said, good daddy that you are. When you race home next year to take out your beautiful children, let your better half carry the bag and YOU take the pictures!

    Also, has anyone told you that you have Dustin Pedroia’s eyes????

  • This is becoming a Seinfeld episode (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I only pray that my gay readers (and yes, I have quite a few – both readers and friends) read this and know that this is hardly an example of stereotypical gay panic. Nope, this is pure Man Purse panic, through and through – and yes, there is something wrong with that. : )

  • Oh, Aunt Sharon. That’s the second person who said that so we may be on to something. (Sean – I should probably take back that statement I made about DP – didn’t I call him the love child of Giovanni Ribisi and Corky?)

    Anyway, I have Dustin’s eyes, Nomar’s long, crooked schnoz and Youk’s head. In the true spirit of Halloween, thrill to the story of Epstein’s Monster – The Post-Season Prometheus.

  • @Pirate Well, I suppose you could have passed yourself off as a member of the World Champion Boston Red Sox Bullpen, since the Pen was known as The Black Pearl, and they each had pirate names ( so far, undisclosed). What with being seen with random Bench Player #6 ( who dies early in all of the old Star Trek episodes) , it might have worked.

    But the Easy Button was a good idea too…

  • Congratulations Ed on 200! That is quite an accomplishment. I am a “new” reader and a “new” friend so I have a lot to catch up on. I am truly enjoying your posts and comments! As the fruity pirates wife, I hope you will someday post a more flattering picture of him so that he may reclaim his masculinity. If not….O Well. Go Patriots!

  • @Stacey – I must be the only one on this site who thinks that photo is the very epitome of Tough Guy cool. C’mon just look at it. There’s the meanest pirate that ever sailed the Seven Seas coupled with a guy who looks like he just tasted freedom for the first time after spending seven years locked up in the clink. If I were walking down the street and saw these two guys coming – I’d cross the road and never look back. Of course, if I were walking down the street and saw these two guys coming I’d have major problems because that would mean, sometime in my sleep, Andi finally had me cloned. She’s been threatening it for years. (“Look woman, I get it. You want me to clean the gutters – I’ll get to it. It’s on my To Do list. No need to clone me.”)

    Anyway, I guess we’ll have to go to Plan B and restore the Man’s Man mystique both the Pirate and I should have in abundance – and would if it weren’t for certain family members of mine sniping from the shadows (or broad daylight, as it were). Do you still have that photo of the Pirate and I singing a duet of “It’s Raining Men”?

    That ought to show them.