Every year I like to go down to the Kodak Theater and watch them set up the Red Carpet and absorb some of the Oscar hoopla. It's truly can be a zany adventure.
Friday I made the short trek from West to proper Hollywood and toured the encampment and was extremely fortunate to stumble upon this reporter filing her segment. Dressed as a disco ball, no less.
I am pretty sure she is a foreign correspondant. I wasn't close enough to hear her speak but I'm guessing Latin America somewhere.
Well, before I knew it this lady dropped to her knees and began to passionately rub her hands on the Red Carpet like it was a lover about to be mounted. It was bizarre. And awesome. I mean, you ain't gonna get this kind of realness from Mary Hart.
Patience is so rewarding in photography. It's my secret really.
My costume for Halloween 2002 was Thurston Howell III from Gilligan's Island. Complete with Lovey, on-a-stick wrapped in a boa. It was easily one of my best Halloween efforts.
This morning I changed my profile photo on Facebook to a photo from that night. It got me thinking about Halloween's past. One in particular sprang to mind. So if you'll indulge me - allow me to take you back to October 1975...
In early '73 my father uprooted the family from a pleasant life in Northern California to try something vastly different in the Deep South. For the next couple of years we bounced around and pocked the map rather efficiently before landing in Atlanta.
Honestly the only thing I got out of Atlanta was my obsession with Olivia Newton-John. But that was bound to happen anywhere.
After about six or so months in Atlanta there was another major upheaval. This time we were heading to the new promised land - San Diego. And we were doing it on the cheap in a small U-Haul. My sister and I were allowed 2 boxes each.
Trying to whittle your life down to two boxes - even at 9 years-old - is pretty tough. I had recently began collecting empty cans - beer and soda. I had them prominently displayed on my window sill and for some dumb reason I was attached to them. So, that was most of box 1. You should have heard the hell I caught in San Diego when I was setting them out...
Anyway, Halloween found us somewhere in Texas. That morning my little sister Nancy began grumbling about it being Halloween. Just the previous year she and I had been characters from a Saturday morning show called Lidsville. I was Charles Nelson Rielly's Hoodoo (shut up) and Nancy was his sidekick Weenie the Genie. We rocked.
I'm not sure Nancy missed dressing up as much as she wanted some damn candy!
As early evening came upon us my dad pulled off the highway in some random small Texas town. He drove around until we found a store and my mother went in and bought a couple of cheap masks. Then we drove a little further until we found a street humming with trick-or treaters.
We were given about 45 minutes and as Nancy and I went from house-to-house we began to fill up our little sacks. Then as Nancy and I headed back to the car we were approached by 3 or 4 older boys. They circled us. And before we knew it we'd been knocked to the ground in a tug-of-war for our bags of candy.
My bag was gone in a split second. But Nancy put up a much better fight. She may have been small but she was a spitfire and ain't nobody gonna get her sack of candy. She was so proud of herself for fending them off - whatever.
When we returned to the car my mom inspected us for injury and after she determined that we were fine my dad drove back to the store and they bought me a few candy bars.