The grapevine

I have always wished I was creative. It wasn't until college that I realized it's much better for me to just be friends with creative people because my creative endeavors are never really successful. And you all thought I just like to play it safe. No, it's really my only option.

My grandma passed away a few weeks ago. In the process of preparing for her funeral and visitation, many MANY pictures were viewed. Pictures I didn't know existed. Take, for example, the pic of me in my head gear. You heard me. I seriously thought there was absolutely no proof that contraption ever existed. Now that Keith has seen it, I've never been more sure of the longevity of my marriage.

And then there was the picture of the Worst Idea Ever. In caps because it is. Straight up.
It was halloween. 3rd grade? My BFF Alissa had figured out how to braid wire into her strawberry blond, butt length hair. She found striped tights and was going to be the best Pippi Longstocking ever. I adored Pippi and was insanely jealous. So I said to myself, "Self, if you're going to be seen with Pippi, you better come up with something good!"

I had this sassy pair of red sunglasses branded "California Raisins." I might have gotten them out of a cereal box - not too sure on that one. Then it hit me. Standing in the center aisle at Meijer, looking at all the halloween head dresses. I could be... a raisin!!!! From California! HA!

I knew the dance move. Roll hands, point to left. Roll hands, point to right. Give a little hip sway. Repeat.

And I would be funny. That was important. No way I can compete with how cute Alissa would be. So go the funny route. This was gonna be great.

In my head, it was hilarious. And to be honest, it was funny in my head up until three weeks ago when I saw the picture:



I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this costume didn't go over that great.
Forgive the caps here, but seriously people -
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I WAS WEARING GRAPES ON MY HEAD. NOT RAISINS!!!
My mom would answer this question with some response about how head strong I was and how once I made up my mind about something... but SERIOUSLY! She let me out into the streets to beg for candy looking like this!
And no, your screen doesn't need to be calibrated - my face is blue. Not purple.
My sweatshirt is blue and inside out.
I think we can all agree that my mic was rad, but that's about it.

Picture me, sitting on Alissa's bed emptying my pillow case looking for razor blades while Alissa let down her hair.
"Why in the world would people think I was one of those underwear guys??? Weird!

(You might remember this story...)

I thought they were FRUIT of the loom

There's been a lot of Fruit Guys commercials lately.
Every time we see one, Keith and I get flustered by the brownish guy.
I mean - why are they the fruit guys, and there's TWO sets of grapes, and one... fig? Artichoke?
Well, I just have to say thank goodness for the internet.
He's a leaf?!

Get out.

I hate these commercials because they involve grown men dressed as fruit. And not just fruit - redundant fruit. Two grapes?!
But I hate them even more because they remind me of the worst Halloween costume ever.

cue flashback...
My friend Alissa was beautiful. She had long hair and freckles. She lived in a yuppy neighborhood that handed out real sized candy bars on Halloween. We went trick or treating there. She had the sweetest Pippi Longstocking get-up you can imagine. And it was all home made - she had pipe in her pigtail braids. It was hot. Everyone oohed and ahhed all over her that year.

And I just got a patronizing "And what are you?!"
Ooh, that would piss me off. I mean come ON! Was I NOT carrying a microphone? Puh-leez. And my face was painted purple.
Clearly I was a California Raisin.
Nevermind that my head... um... covering... was a cluster of grapes.
I don't really know why my mom let me wear a grape mask when I was trying to be a raisin, but in my 7 year old mind, it was clear as a bell.
It was the last year I ever went trick or treating.

And after all this, I'm feeling a bit convicted about talking so much smack about the leaf guy. I'm sure it all makes sense in the depths of a marketing plan somewhere. And the fact that the rest of us just don't understand makes me want to reach out and hug the ugly little leaf guy and offer him a Hershey bar.

Full size, of course.