Day 167: 'Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover'

It's Halloween weekend in Paris! Woo Hoo. Which means only one thing: Nothing. My boss looked at me like I was an asshole when I asked him what his children were doing. But that's fine, I'm going away this weekend and nothing is going to break my festive spirit! Not even Clémence who made a mistake and told the client that me, her 'secretary' had misunderstood or the fact that I found a nasty long strand of blonde hair on my dress that belonged to Katie the shady sublet who stole wore my clothes this summer or that the fact that the photocopy machine refuses to acknowledge its job function and make copies! Ok, I give up, this Friday kind of sucks.

At least this week I've satisfied my need, scratched my itch if you will with classic horror films like Halloween (1979), Dawn of the Dead, Psycho and my favorite The Rocky Horror Picture Show. 
Let's put sadistic copy machines, thieves, co-workers who should know that no one under the age 50 should use the word secretary behind us and flashback to a happy time, it was a cold and rainy October night in 1992, I was heading to my dear friend Belle's house for the ultimate Friday night activity when you have braces and no Bat/Bar Mitzfah parties to go to: a sleepover! Life was so simple.
In front of Belle's house as I was getting out of the car with my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, my mom screamed out the her Pontiac Grand-Am, "Wait, I almost forgot!" she said as she reached in her bag and pulled out a blank VHS. "I taped this on t.v last week, you girls are going to love it for Halloween!" I took the mysterious VHS cassette out of her hand, knowing even then that my mom was cool and that whatever it was, it was going to be good. "You'll thank me later!" she said as she was driving down Belle's long cobblestone driveway.
We popped some popcorn with melted junior mints, grabbed our Raspberry Snapple Ice Teas and planted ourselves in her cool older sister's room who was away at Northwestern University and were blown away. Leave it to my mother to send suggest a Rock Opera with transvestites, drama, blood and men in garters to 12 years old girls. Thanks, Mom. "It's a classic!" she always says in her thick Long Island accent when I mention how inappropriately amazing it was.
I introduced this beauty to Séb last night who now loves my mother even more.
Happy Halloween et bon week-end à tous!