People are bizarreSmart Solution
That’s not a judgment. It’s a fact. When you live in a university town, you see all types.
I went to lunch the other day and was seated by this very attractive, twentysomething young lady — cute, put together, very polite and with what I can best describe as a gigantic doorknob pierced to her face. It was nothing small or subtle. It wasn’t in her nose or her lip (very un-bizarre places, right?). This thing was about nostril-high and on her cheek. You could hang wet laundry from it. Bizarre …
I was standing in line today at Panera and said hi to a buddy. “Saw your Iron Man picture on Facebook last night,” he said. My first thought was “What? I don’t even do Facebook.” Then I remembered: Our agency's Haanoween pictures are posted on our agency's Facebook page. That led me to my next thoughts: “I never dressed up like Iron Man. What the hell is he talking about? This guy has too much f-ing time on his hands.”
"Was it my Robin costume?" I asked. "Nacho Libre?" (The year I dressed as Nacho Libre, I dropped my daughter off at middle school and got out of the car to yell, “Daddy loves you, Julia!” I’m sure she thought that was bizarre, too.)
“I can’t remember exactly, but you were into it,” he said.
Well, of course I was. You can’t dress like Nacho Libre and not be into it.
So I went out to the site and revisited some of those old pictures. Whoopee cushions, 75-year old Playboy bunnies, giant tooth fairies …
Then it hit me: Bizarre is fun. Bizarre is the opposite of boring. And what better time of year to celebrate the bizarre than Haanoween? So here it is. It's time for that assless-chapped Bret Michaels costume to make its way out of the closet. It’s time to get your Snooki on. Give a wet-fish handshake. Be irreverent. Be bizarre. Have fun.
Oh, and send photos. Sometimes we have too much time on our hands, too …
Happy Haanoween, everybody.