Occupy Halloween. [Crayons Aren’t Sexy.]

It is with morbid fascination and not a little exasperation every Halloween that I watch co-eds at UNC prance around in glorified doilies, making it impossible to determine whether they’re trying to get candy or Japanese business men.

I blame Obamacare.

Mistaking Chapel Hill for the Redlight District in Prague, they masquerade as trashy cops, skanky bumble bees, and whorish Crayola crayons. [Though truthfully, if you can channel your inner trollop into a crayon, my hat goes off to you. …now go use it to cover up.]

Yesterday, Kellan and I made a last minute decision to venture out to Franklin Street-where thousands of elaborately costumed ghouls, goblins and Steve Jobs’ were braving the cold to participate in the most spooktacular event of the season.

Having failed to give any prior thought at all to our costumes, and much too proud to join the masses without one, my genius boyfriend had a brilliant idea: we could occupy Halloween!

We quickly threw this together:

Let me tell you: I fit right in with the crayon-whores.

Our visit to the actual Occupy Chapel Hill protest site! ...these men are not in costume. They're just our new anarchist friends.

Kellan confidently strutted around all evening looking for all the world like someone who might commission oil paintings of his Yorkshire Terrier, while I gave off the distinct impression that I’d just finished rummaging through the recyclables.

Thoroughly self-amused, we grinned the whole way up and down Franklin Street-channeling our inner Miley Cyrus as drag queens and Michael Jacksons asked to take our picture. I think the fact that we were holding hands made it all the more comical-I received more than one comment about “fraternizing with the enemy”.

I know, I know. But I have such a very. large. crush on the enemy.

I can’t even help it.

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