How Chelsea Handler (Almost) Ruined Halloween

One thing about hanging around alone most of the time is that you think a lot about yourself and your life. And then, at some point, you may end up thinking about what other people think about you and your life. And because you've been hanging around alone so much, you may actually forget what other people really think about you, and may start forming your own opinions. And if you're sort of depressed and lonely, you're opinions may not be very positive.

These are the kind of forces that were at play when I started reading My Horizontal Life, a book about Chelsea Handler's one night stands. I found this book laying around our house, discarded after my Chelsea-loving roommate finished it. I have complicated feelings about Chelsea, but I found parts of this book really funny, and for a week or so I would pick it up when I wanted some light reading.

The week I was reading this book was also the week surrounding Halloween. I had tentative plans to attend a couple of parties, so I decided to go ahead and make the best Halloween costume ever. I sewed umbrella halves to the sleeves of a turtle neck, making bat wings. I wish I could post a picture, but I've somehow lost every cable that would allow me to do this. Losing cables is my superpower. Seriously though, it was a great costume. Trust me

So, on Friday night, I planned to meet a friend at this party/event thing at a bar downtown. I discovered lateish in the evening that she was going to a house party before the bar thing. This party would be frequented by people I knew of from my hometown but did not know well--obviously the demographic that I would be least comfortable wearing a bat costume in front of. I decided to skip the first party and meet her at the bar.

So I got ready for the bar thing and waited. My bat wings were really limiting my range of motion, and I needed a sedentary activity that would kill some time. I decided to read My Horizontal Life.

In the chapter I read that night, Chelsea laments her naive and socially stunted roommate. I can't remember the plot of the one night stand story contained in that particular chapter. All that stands out to me is how truly idiotic Chelsea Handler finds her roommate, referred to by her as Dumb Dumb. Here are some things that Chelsea hates about Dumb Dumb:

• Dumb Dumb doesn't leave the apartment a lot.
• Dumb Dumb wears pajamas all the time.
• Dumb Dumb asks her dad for advice about things that others may find obvious/simple.
• Dumb Dumb gets really excited about questionably exciting things.
• Dumb Dumb doesn't drink that much.
• Dumb Dumb clings to Chelsea in social situations
• Dumb Dumb watches a lot of TV.

At that moment it was clear to me: I was the Dumb Dumb to my roommate's Chelsea. The later it got, the more convinced I was that my roommate despised me and all my earnest naiveté, that when she laughed with or agreed with me she was only humoring me, was actually participating in the largest inward eye roll of all time. Oh man. It is not pleasant to spiral into a vortex of self doubt while dressed like a forest animal. 

And just when I was feeling as stupid as possible, my friend finally texted me to tell me that she was at the bar. Since she was already at the bar, I would have to walk there by myself, in my bat costume. Oh yeah, and it was raining.

So I started walking, and as I walked I imagined entering this bar thing and trying to locate my friend amongst the crowd of people. That made me panic a little, so I called my friend. She offered to get out of line and meet me outside, but asking a friend to do this seemed like textbook Dumb Dumb behavior. Despite the protests of my friend, I scrapped the whole thing and headed home. And then I took off the costume that I had spent hours making. And then I went to bed.

But fortunately, the next morning, I felt a lot better. I actively sought out another costume party, and I actually attended even though I only knew like two people there. Unfortunately, before I ever made it to this party, I attended a pre-party. Where I drank a lot. So when I showed up at the main event I was already a little silly, and by the end I was totally absurd. I can't even...it's too embarrassing to even think about. But I still had fun! Sort of.

So the moral of the story is: don't drink too much. Or something.