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Hell in a hand basket (Halloween my way)

Because I am still (happily) in a malt beverage and Red Sox-induced delirium, the last thing I’m going to do is ruin an otherwise perfect October 31 with thoughts about my least favorite holiday. Instead, I’ll just recycle my standard Halloween post. The original, and still the best, folks.

Kitchen Slattern

Holy Mother of God, is it Halloween again? Already?  How I could have missed this given the flurry of Martha Stewart Halloween hints that clutter up my email this time of year is a mystery. Perhaps it’s because this is the first year the little Slattern has not been home for the holiday, and as such the first year I have not had to make or even think about costumes. Anyways…in recognition of this, my least favorite holiday, I give you…drum roll please…last year’s post. Don’t be disappointed. It was a corker.

I hate Halloween. The costume hysteria, the sugar meltdown, the sugar coma, the instant weight gain, the toilet paper in the trees, the stink of scorched pumpkin innards, and that’s before we even begin to deal with the children.

Then there’s the expectation that this, or something very like it, will somehow come into play. Yeah, sure. Imagine…

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October baseball: “Hey Jimmy, got a light?”

I love me some Boston Red Sox, but I must admit I just cannot get enough of the Detroit Tigers coaching staff. I mean, look at them.

World Series - Detroit Tigers v San Francisco Giants - Game 2

Yeah, yeah, yeah, calm down already. I know Jim Leyland’s the gen-u-INE article, a real old time baseball man. And I’d be lying if I said I’m not a tad concerned that his pitching staff is going to pants my Red Sox hitters while the Detroit line-up administers a collective swirlie to Lester and company; however, I feel I must point something out. The Detroit coaches, to a man, look like those guys you see sitting at the bar every afternoon down at the Blarney Rose knocking back Falstaffs and bumps, sucking on Lucky Strikes and mopping up plates of greasy corned beef and cabbage with wads of Wonderbread.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Game 3 in the Motor City on Tuesday. In Lackey (and the bullpen) we trust. Go Sox!

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And the winner is….

ME!

So the lovely and erudite Tall Woman, aka Cristy Carrington Lewis, has seen fit to bestow upon me a coveted 7×7 Link Award. Though I am hardly worthy – well actually I’m hardly sober, but let’s not split hairs – I am thrilled to be in such eminent company. As this is a pay-it-forward type of thing, as opposed to a big check or heavy statuette type of thing, I have some work to do. Hang on. No check, no prize, homework? Well, I’m only in it for the glory anyway, so here goes.

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