Hello Hybrids... The advertising lesson here(because there has to be one in everything..right) is that I sometimes forget when concepting that children see events, people, and objects from a totally different perspective than us adults...and they are unwaivering in their views.

Come on ..Superman.

Halloween is a beautiful holiday. When you’re young it’s a glorious night of costumes, candy, and fun. You get to dress like you favorite cartoon character, Barbie doll, or superhero. The peanuts Halloween special was a must see, and nothing beat Ms. Johnson’s “Haunted House” down the street. All Hallows Eve is still awesome when you’re an adult too, but for a different reason. It’s pretty basic. It’s just another excuse to drink heavily and make bad decisions. There’s nothing like going to the Parade in West Hollywood and seeing the Predator having sex with Cinderella in an alley. That’s another thing that’s interesting about this day. Women always try to out do each other with their clothes in LA, but on this day, its no holds barred outhookering each other. But it’s ok, cause it’s in theme…right? Uh…Yes it is. I salute you slutty nurse, naughty schoolteacher, and sexy firefighter. So… Halloween was on a Saturday about four years ago. I usually go to more than on costume party a year, so I always have two outfits ready. I’m not bragging and saying I’m super popular, you can be the judge of that. I go for the reasons mentioned above. I want to make out with a drunken Princess Leah. So, I’ll go and rent my main, or showpiece costume, if you will. And then I have my backup. The second party I usually wear my Superman costume. Its standard blue, with the fake muscles for the chest….as I have no chest whatsoever. Lol So on this particular night, I wore the Superman costume to a party at my friend Brooke and Craig’s house right by Main Street in Venice. We had a grand time. We laughed, we danced, and I may have had a tee many martoonis. I was more like the evil version of Superman, stumbling through the streets, looking down girl’s shirts, and scowling at babies. Tequila is my Kryptonite!..lol For some reason, instead of staying in the house, I went across the street, threw my keys in the trunk, and slept in my car. I used to do this a lot, as my car is comfortable, I don’t drink and drive and I get sleepy behind the wheel. Superman sleeps…..

“Hey! Hey Superman! Wake up Superman, Wake up!” I open my eyes and am greeted by the bright morning sun penetrating my window. A smallAfrican American boy, probably about ten years old, peers in at me. He’s standing right outside my driver’s side window, holding his skate board, and pleading with me. “Come on Superman. Wake up Superman! You just gotta wake up.” His big brown eyes are welling up with tears. I look at him, groggily, wipe my eyes and put my hands up to let this little whipper snapper that I’m ok. “Alright, alright, dude I’m awake. Chill out man.” The boy just looks at me. In udder disappointment he shakes his head. Looking back now, I have no doubt in my mind that he thought I was the man of Steel himself. And he is crushed. He puts his skateboard down and shoves off. He gets about ten feet away, stops and turns. With shame in his voice, like a sad mother telling her child to get it together, he pleads, “Come on….Superman. Why you gotta do that Superman.” He shoves off, and I feel absolutely horrid. Moral of the story: If you’re gonna pass out and sleep in your car, take your damn superhero costume off. You could really fuck some little kid up. He’s probably sitting on D block right now on a murder charge, and it’s nobody’s fault but my own. Well, actually, I wouldn’t have slept in my car that night if I had a girlfriend. And we all know I would be dating Megan Fox if Bob Saget wouldn’t have blocked me in a parking lot with his car for an hour a few weeks before. So actually, little African American boy on Cell block D….don’t blame Superman. Blame Bob Saget.