Bahar Orang
ANDY Editor

This Halloween I’m dressing up as Amy Winehouse. I experimented for a long time before finally mastering the hair. I tried several different techniques and experimented with several different household objects before settling on a loufah, which I will shove beneath a thick lump of hair. I also plan to don the thick black eyeliner drawn from tear duct to hairline. I’ll complete the look with her many tattoos drawn all over my body. When people ask me what my costume is, I’ll respond with very, very bad renditions of “Valerie” or “Back to Black.” It will all be part of a larger costume - the 27 club - musicians who died at a startlingly young age. There will be a Kurt Cobain - with shaggy hair and an oversized 90’s plaid shirt. There will be a Janis - complete with fuzzy locks, hippie pants and large round glasses. And there will be a Jimi Hendrix - with a fake guitar and a brightly coloured vest hanging from his torso.

One particularly crude friend insisted that we add a second layer to our costumes, which shows how each musician died. She got really creative and (in very poor taste) suggested that my Amy Winehouse interpretation include white make-up powder somewhere on my face. We decided against it.

As we brainstormed more possibilities for our costume, we started realizing how utterly strange it was that all of these fantastic, ground-breaking musicians all died at the same age - at a young, awfully specific, but still very random age. When I imagine myself at 27 - I imagine that it’ll be at the peak of my life - I will be a fully formed human, an inspiring artist, I will have mastered things, I will have loved and lost, I’ll be as good-looking as I’ll ever be.  I don’t imagine that I’ll be on a stairway to heaven.

I’ll reach that age in a few short years - to imagine dying at 27 is terrifying, unjust, surreal. And these musicians - all of them brave, beautiful, and talented, makes it even more scary and unfair. It’s also decidedly spooky. My friends and I have only covered a few of the club’s members. The club’s Wikipedia page includes quite a long list of musicians who died at 27 - from Chuck Barry to viagra 20mg for sale Brian Jones. The artists span many generations and musical genres.

And all of them were supposedly found with white lighters in their pockets - just three years shy of 30. It’s weird.

Perhaps some higher power is calling it to our attention - perhaps someone or something is saying - look at what’s happening! Take notice! Open your eyes to these problems - problems of drug abuse, suicide, and celebrity culture - look at what you’re doing. You silly humans!

We have responded with a group Halloween costume. I will sport an orange loofah in Amy’s honour.

"Sexy Indian Princess" and "Eskimo Cutie" are words I never thought I'd see in a university campus bookstore. And yet under their new-and-improved Campus Store moniker, McMaster's bookstore is now selling Halloween costumes - and very offensive ones at that.

Every year I see cringe-worthy concoctions in line for TwelvEighty’s ever-popular Halloween club night. Aside from the revealing choices of many club-goers and the frequent rude joke outfits (ahem, six-foot-tall penises), the worst offenders continue to be the racist and culturally insensitive.

Perhaps it’s a tired request: dress with some respect on Oct. 31 and the party days that surround it. But based on the “costumes” that continue to proliferate the last week of October, and the merchandise being sold on our very own campus, it’s clearly a conversation worth rehashing.

First Nations costumes are probably the most common of the most inappropriate found around this time of year.

Donning the traditional dress of First Nations peoples because you like moccasins and hipster clothing ads have made it cool to wear feather headdresses is not okay. Doing so stereotypes and appropriates the culture of a diverse group of peoples, erases their identity, and ignores the history of colonization and genocide that is regrettably intrinsic to their relationship with Caucasian settlers (and that includes you, even now, even “after all these years”). Their culture and practice is disrespected through parodic – and always hypersexualized – costuming.

Apparently this is news to Campus Store, who offer three sexed-up First Nations costumes for women: Indian Princess, Sexy Indian Princess, and Eskimo Cutie (complete with a disgusting "faux chocolate popsicle").

Many other Othered and marginalized groups also get “put on” for a day every October. Under no circumstances is sexualizing and insulting Indian, Mexican, Arabic or Asian cultures an acceptable thing to do. Not even for a day, not even if you “mean it as a joke,” not even if you have one <insert ethnic group here> friend who thinks it’s really cool/funny/acceptable.

An ignorant celebrity culture helps normalize this kind of overlooked racism. In recent history when Paris Hilton dressed as a scantily-clad First Nations woman, Heidi Klum as Hindu Goddess Kali, NHL player Raffi Torres as Jay-Z (complete with blackface) and Chris Brown as a Middle-Eastern terrorist, it made cultural appropriation and stereotyping seem totally passable.

A great campaign put it succinctly last year with posters that read, “We’re a culture, not a costume. This is not who I am and this is not okay” along with people from marginalized groups holding pictures of people in costumes of their heritage. The examples it gave of costumed people in blackface, or mustached with sombreros, or wearing turbans – all inappropriately boiling a peoples down to one stereotypical image – were powerful, albeit oft-parodied since.

All it takes is a quick stroll down a costume aisle at a big-box party store to see that these costumes are as popular as ever, are readily available, and are clearly not being questioned or criticized enough to create change. Even here at McMaster, in 2013, on an educated and progressive campus.

This isn’t about being “politically correct,” or any other kind of buzz-word rhetoric. This is about being a decent human being. And it’s a perspective and mandate we need to wear and internalize this Halloween – and every other day of the year.    

The Campus Store has since removed the "Sexy Indian Princess," "Eskimo Cutie" and "Tackle Me" costumes discussed in this article. A full story on the developments will be published in this week's edition of The Silhouette. This article is updated from the editorial originally published in print on Oct. 24, 2013. 

Amanda Watkins & Brianna Buziak
LifeStyle Editor & The Silhouette

If you’re anything like us, you’ve been planning what you’re going to be for Halloween since last Halloween. And again, if you’re anything like us, you’re a procrastinator and have, once again, left planning to the last week. If you’re the person who has a tendency to leave Halloween to the very last minute here are some last minute, easy DIY costumes that can be made in a few hours and are relatively inexpensive.

God’s Gift to the World

What you need:

-Wrapping paper

-Bows

-Bristol Board

-Ribbon

Many people say someone is “God’s gift to the world” in a bad way, this Halloween actually be God’s gift to the world. Over top of your regular clothes wrap your chest in wrapping paper from the dollar store. Get an oversized bow or a handful of small bows and stick them to the wrapping paper. From a piece of Bristol board, cut out the shape of a gift tag and write on it “To: The World, Love: God” and attach with ribbon.

Chick Magnet

What you need:

-Bristol Board

-Baby chick figurines (if not available, keep reading for alternative solutions)

-Yellow feathers (optional)

-Safety pins (optional)

Halloween is the one day of the year to be something you’re not. If you’re not a chick magnet, or are and want to show it off, be playful and try out this easy Halloween option.

Get some black Bristol board and cut it out in a horseshoe shape. Get small pieces viagra with no prescription in britain of white and red Bristol board to add to the bottom of each end of the arc as the North and South Poles. Dollar stores generally have toy figurines of farm animals, if available, get a handful of baby chicks and hot glue them onto the magnet. If you can’t find these figurines, pick up some different sized yellow pompoms and glue them together so there’s one small pompom for the head and a larger one for the body. Glue the “baby chicks” onto the magnet along with some yellow feathers to finish off the look. Wear the magnet like a boa or attach it to your shirt with bobby pins.

 

Michael Gallagher
The Silhouette

5. Dead space

Before Gravity showed us how scary space can be, Dead Space redefined the horrors of space. The player controls Isaac Clarke as he makes his way through an abandoned mining star ship, only to find a slaughtered crew and the aliens that killed them. In official canadian pharmacy order to prevent the enemies from killing you, they must be dismembered limb by limb (instead of a typical shot to the head). This, coupled with the ability to fight in zero gravity makes Dead Space unique and thrilling.

4. Silent Hill

The survival horror Silent Hill games in many ways deserve to take the number one spot. This is because they represent some of the earliest and most influential titles in horror video gaming. What makes them so great? Composer Akira Yamaoka’s eerie music, the use of unique camera angles, and the gripping story. If you want to be scared this Halloween, check out any of the Silent Hill games, but my personal favourites are the first and second.

3. Outlast

Red Barrels’ Outlast is a horror gaming treat. You move through an insane asylum armed with only a night vision video camera to navigate the dark. The game is truly frightening. This lack of weapons means that players are only able to run away from enemies and cannot fight back.

2. Amnesia

Amnesia: The Dark Descent pushed horror video forward by removing weapons and forcing players to be unable to fight back, paving the way for Outlast and Slender in the future. You control Daniel, a young man from the early 1800’s London, as he solves puzzles in a creepy castle. The only tool Daniel has is his lantern, which leaves players unable to fight back at the horrors that await them. This game is so incredibly scary that I found myself unable to carry on through some of the levels. If you want to have a fun time this Halloween, get your friends together and check out Amnesia: The Dark Descent or the sequel Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. You won’t be disappointed.

1. Slender

The free-to-play indie-horror hit Slender: The Eight Pages is one of the most enjoyable horror games to date. The game is incredibly simple; players move through a forest armed with just a flashlight, as they collect eight pages to win. Soon, a mysterious figure known as “Slender Man” pursues you, and the character moves faster to get you with each page you collect. The game’s ease allows even non-gamers to give it a try, but still produces Amnesia level scares, something worthy of the number one spot.

Before hitting land on the eastern seaboard, Hurricane Sandy stopped in Cuba, where my family was on vacation last week. Being rainy season down south, it was a cheap time to travel. What a deal, they thought. So, on a whim, they had booked a week-long trip to warmer climes.

After a few days in the sun, they were told to stay in their rooms one night – retreating to the bathroom if necessary – as Sandy came through.

The next morning, there was no running water (there wouldn’t be for the two days that followed). There were tree branches in the pool. The patio was closed. So was the bar.

Halfway through their all-expenses paid resort vacation, they were spending their days fetching buckets of water from the pool to refill the toilet.

What was a comedy for my family in Cuba was more serious, but no less cinematic, in New York. In reporting Hurricane Sandy, CNN shied away from using the word “Frankenstorm.” But it seemed so perfect.

Under a full moon, the hurricane combined with a cold front sweeping north. Halloween was only days away as the storm left millions in the dark.

Parts of the city were evacuated. Buildings crumbled. Homes were flooded. People died.

All this is to say that, when I go out tonight, I’ll do so with hopes that I see someone dressed as a windswept Olivia Newton-John. (Get it?)

Too soon? Too insensitive?

I’m reminded of a Halloween party I went to a few years back, where two brothers, twins, dressed as the iconic pair of New York towers in the World Trade Centre that were hit and destroyed in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Their decorated cardboard boxes were complete with model planes, flames and falling stick people.

In every tragedy, there’s a little comedy. There is, of course, more comedy in some than others – or at least, the humour is a little darker in some. Thinking of my family taking a trip to a Cuban resort’s pool every time they want to go number two – that’s funny. The twins in cardboard towers, though, might have found the far extreme.

But if there’s one time to celebrate whatever humour you can find amidst terror, it’s Halloween. Once your trick-or-treating days are over, the holiday isn’t meant to be a wholesome one. So I hope you dressed up and remembered not to get offended.

I write this editorial in costume. Hurricane Sandy, if you happen to see a guy dressed as Bob Dylan at Motown tonight, save a dance for him.

Toy Story is a terrible film for children, no matter what the “G” rating would suggest.

 

When I tell people that watching Toy Story was a traumatic experience for the four-year-old me, they always think it’s ridiculous. If they are feeling particularly sympathetic, they may entertain the idea that Sid and his sadistic manipulation of toys could be a little scary if his victims weren’t still just toys.

 

But it wasn’t Sid that I had a problem with. I was most disturbed by the idea that toys could come alive at all. I’m not sure why it came as a surprise to me that Toy Story involved living toys. Maybe I had to watch the film to truly grasp the profound implications.

 

Toy Story made me cry so much that my parents had to take me out of the theatre. With the immediate terror having been dealt with, an insidious paranoia soon replaced it.

 

When we arrived home, I announced through sobs that every toy that might ever think about eating meat had to be imprisoned in the basement. This dietary discrimination included almost all of my dinosaurs, which I had, up until then, loved dearly.

 

But I had become wise. I would not be the late-night snack of a miniature raptor. This kind of thinking is both absurd and annoyingly logical in a way that only children can be, but apparently I didn’t stay in the theatre long enough to see that the dinosaur in Toy Story is so sensitive that he actually needs lessons on how to be scary.

 

The one exception I made was for my grey teddy bear named Tippy. I’d had Tippy since I was born, and we had been through too much together for him to turn on me. We were brothers. I thought I could trust him. But that trust was put through the toughest challenge it would ever face.

 

I awoke the next morning (assuming I had slept at all, which is questionable) without even a single bite mark. I felt bad for ever doubting him. Slowly I learned to give my trust back to the rest of the meat-eaters.

 

Scary stories affect us in ways that normal stories just can’t. As we grow older, we know that the images of a horror movie aren’t real, and yet they still have an incredible power to terrify us. Or make us laugh, when an attempt to be taken seriously falls flat. Maybe the appeal of scary stories is that they allow us to feel like children again, where there are big, bad and scary things in this world that we don’t understand but that we allow ourselves to believe in for an hour and a half. Or maybe it’s the exact opposite, and we like to feel that we are mature enough to handle anything.

 

In honour of all things scary, we present you with ANDY’s annual Halloween issue. We’ve got more stories of people’s first experiences seeing scary movies, what makes a good scary video game and a couple of reviews of new horror films. ANDY is all treat and no trick.

 

Sinister

starring: katie featherson, kathryn newton

director: henry joost, ariel schulman

It’s pretty hard to find a decent horror movie nowadays without noticing clichéd and overused tropes. Themes like the haunted house, evil spirits, possessed children and the newly popularized “found footage” are everywhere. Sinister, directed by Scott Derrickson, is a successful yet daunting fusion of all these horror film standbys.

Written by Derrickson and C. Robert Cargill, the screenplay is believable and doesn’t fall into the genre’s trap of attempting to scare you at predictable moments. The jumpy thrills are, in fact, unexpected and happen exactly when they need to. The atmosphere is mostly dark, which is one of my complaints about the cinematography because it’s hard to make out what’s happening at times. Nonetheless, it does fit the mental state of the main character.

Played by the underrated Ethan Hawke, Ellison Oswalt is an author of best-selling true crime books. Obsessed with fame and success, Oswalt seems to be living a lie as he tries to convince his family and himself that he is writing for good. Unable to let go of his attachment to images, he seems to be possessed by them, as he obsessively studies them for further validation. This is the game of the classic tale of Faustus: by accepting the devil’s offer, the demonized victims play by sinister rules. Oswalt and Faustus both become victims of evil in order to achieve material success.

The music is perfect for the setting. As the story follows Oswalt’s investigation into his new home’s horrific history, there are few locations in the film besides this seemingly perfect place for a loving family. The score, mostly slow yet unnerving ambient sounds, builds to a mind-shattering climax that resembles a madman’s final break with reality. I think Trent Reznor would feel at home with this film’s soundtrack.

But what affected me the most are the movies within the movie itself. Oswalt finds a series of short films stored away in an attic, labelled with cute little monikers given by what seems to be innocent children. However, as you’ll notice right from the opening credits, they are a family’s hell: all the videos are snuff films - recordings of the murders of happy families.

Sinister fantastically fuses realist drama with the found footage genre, fitting the movie into the postmodern niche called “metafiction.” We, the audience, are in the same position as the protagonist as we both watch the snuff films. As such, there is no distinction between ourselves and Oswalt, and whatever horrors he experiences are our own.

Sinister is horror film at its finest.

Four stars out of five.

Marco Filice

By: Amanda Watkins and Sam Godfrey

 

Amanda: We had planned two visits for our urban exploration: a tuberculosis sanatorium and part of an allegedly haunted insane asylum. We were a strong team of five, equipped with multiple flashlights, emergency weapons (don’t worry, nothing illegal), and I, wielding a camera to capture our findings on film.

Prior to our urban exploration, we decided to hit up Screemers- Hamilton’s staged haunted manor. It was a fun time and left us with little fear in our hearts. But I’ll be honest, once we left, I was still pretty jumpy.

We literally climbed a mountain to get to our first destination: the boarded-shut and long abandoned tuberculosis sanatorium. It was a trek, especially for me and my slow ass, but we eventually made it up and I was more than pleased to see that it was conveniently placed next to a bus route and overlooked the night lights of Hamilton. Pleasant. Or so I thought. As we moved closer to the dark and lonely building, we realized we weren’t alone. Cue ominous music. A sketchy car pulled up a few feet away and suspiciously turned off its headlights. “I’d kill the lights if I were you,” our outdoor adventure guide warned me. I turned off my flashlight and put away my camera and we took shelter behind the unlit, recklessly abandoned walls of the sanatorium. As we watched as another car pulled up, it occurred to me that our only option of escaping this possibly dangerous situation would be to run into the creepy as hell building through a semi-opened window leading to the basement. Oh fuck. This is how girls end up dead. My life has just become a horror movie.

My heart was racing and my pupils dilated. But soon enough, the suspicious vehicles pulled away and our adventure was back on track. Young Sam Godfrey assured myself along with the two others who were freaking out that we were just psyching ourselves out, and so we continued to explore the grounds, and I hesitantly took photos. “Look, that window’s completely open. Funny, it wasn’t like that the last time I was here,” our outdoor adventure guide exclaimed. The silence of our fear was interrupted by the sound of creaking floorboards echoing through the night air. Three out of five of us lost our breath and took off at high speed towards the closest sign of human life beyond the empty grounds.

And so it continues! Our second destination: Century Manor.

 

Sam: Somewhere along the way I lost my hat, which was tragic, but at least we didn’t loose our cool facing Century Manor. A smaller annex of the larger Hamilton Asylum, Century Manor has remained intact since opening in the mid 1870s, being open to the public as a museum as recently as the 1980s. When we got there though, the building was thoroughly boarded up and equipped with obviously new doors, locks and a security system (ADT, for anyone who wants to know). Most of the windows were either boarded shut by nails in anchors, or covered in metal grates. There were two that were completely devoid of blockades, but they were second-story, nowhere near stairs.

We found some sort of PVC piping hole that let us see into one of the rooms, and when we looked we saw a tiny room with a rusty sink. It wasn’t much, but it creeped us out a little. Aside from that we managed to get a couple peeks inside through the few ground-floor windows that were grated instead of boarded, but we only saw empty rooms. The only things we found to be odd were the obviously new eaves and drainage pipes, and the fact that we could tell, from the sound, that the building was still getting gas.

We trudged, defeated by the security system, back to the main road and split a taxi home.

Maybe next time we’ll see a ghost, or get cut climbing through a broken window, but that night, the scariest thing was our cabbie’s apparent ignorance for speed limits.

 

Amanda: As I walked towards my front door, a bunny hopped out from behind a tree and I freaked the shit out. I headed inside and locked my camera in a drawer to prevent myself from curiously reliving the creeptastic event. It was 1:00 a.m., I called my mom (naturally) and tried to fall asleep to the lulling sound of a romcom playing on my laptop. But even the voice of Hugh Grant couldn’t help me fall asleep until 6 in the morning.

Overall, the haunted Hamilton experience was haunting to say the least. I eventually regained my sleep schedule and I no longer need to lock my camera in a drawer. And even though I was freaking out at the time, I would do it again, and maybe even dig deeper into the frightening secrets this city has to hold.

If you’re looking for a spook this Halloween, try an urban exploration and live the dream of a horror movie of your very own.

By Talia Kollek

A few years back I attended my first university Halloween party. I fully expected it to be just like the movies, with togas and a never-ending supply of beer. What I actually encountered was questionable attire.

My one friend had decided to dress up as an Indian. The tasseled costume was complete with lines of face paint, cleavage, a hand made headdress, and the occasional joke about alcoholism. At the time, I remembered being taken aback. My friend had never displayed any racist tendencies before, so what about that night had made her actions feel acceptable to her? Why had this particular costume crossed from “dress up” to discrimination?

Unfortunately, my friends’ costuming was nothing new. Non-Natives have been impersonating First Nations people since as far back as the 1830s. An image of the First Nation’s lifestyle was built up by Europeans and perpetuated through artwork, stories, and media. To be a real Indian included living in harmony with nature, tipis and wigwams. This concept of the Noble Savage painted all First Nations people with one brush, ignoring the immense diversity of tribes across North America. It reduced an entire continent’s culture to one incorrect image.

To take this offensive caricature and wear it on a day designated for silly dress up has deeper meanings and ramifications than just a costume.

When it comes to Halloween costumes, an important issue to address is inappropriate sexualization. As if mockingly representing a culture with a costume is not offensive enough, outfits will often exploit sexuality and simultaneously skew gender roles.

Similar to the image of the Noble Savage, the image of the Sexy Squaw (or any hyper-sexualized Native woman) is a terrible misrepresentation and fetishization of a demographic. To reduce First Nations women to sexual objectification ignores the fact that they are three times more likely to be victims of violence and sexual assault (according to Statistics Canada). There is also a prominent history of sex slavery and subjugation of Native women by European colonizers. Mockingly dressing up as an at-risk population should not be considered appropriate Halloween behavior.

However, an important distinction should be made between cultural appropriation and cultural sharing. A fantastic example of cultural sharing on Mac’s campus was the Powwow held in September.

The event was organized by the McMaster First Nations Student Association and was open to the public in the spirit of sharing and education. In contrast, cultural appropriation would be for a non-Native individual to take an item with significance (such as something resembling a headdress) and wear it in jest or as part of an ensemble. Dressing up as another culture does not necessarily relate to genuine appreciation.

Suppose you disagree with me. Suppose you think that dressing as Pocahontas, a “sexy gypsy” or painting your face to look more like Kanye West isn’t offensive. Even if you don’t think that it is doing anyone any harm, there are still other aspects to consider. Most importantly, you have to keep cultural identity in mind.

You have had your own unique experiences in your lifetime, and each of those experiences is somehow influenced (for better or for worse) by your age, gender, sexual orientation, location and culture. Halloween rolls around, and it all seems like fun and games.

You get to dress up and “play” as an “exotic” culture, and then at the end of the night you get to go back to whomever you were in the morning, without experiencing any of the oppression or discrimination faced by others. Before ignoring the experiences of other people and wearing their identity as a costume, please consider that you may cause someone to feel alienated or deeply insulted by your light-hearted or well-intending theatrics.

At this point, you may be wondering exactly what you can dress up as this year. The options are endless. If all else fails, cut your losses and buy some eyeliner to draw on whiskers and go as a cat.

If you are truly having trouble thinking of dressing as anything other than a Native American then it may be time to reassess your creative thinking process.

A good start is to avoid anything that reaffirms cultural stereotypes. Is your costume something specific? Or is it a generalization of someone else’s heritage? If you are dressing up as favorite cartoon character you are doing a great job, if you are dressed as a “sexy insert-culture-here” it is time to go back to the drawing board.

What I would like you to take away from this article is the idea that costumes have significance. Do yourself and everyone else a favor this Halloween and choose something respectful.

Dressing up as another culture isn’t appreciation, it isn’t just a pretty outfit, and it isn’t something to be taken lightly or as a joke.

When people dress as a stereotype they are perpetuating deeply rooted racism and the misrepresentation of a population that is still dealing with discrimination, partially as a result of actions such as Halloween dress up. This year, please dress respectfully.

By: Jamie Hillman

 

Dear Neighbours,

As a retired trick-or-treater, I have experienced many a Halloween throughout the years. And through this, I've managed to develop a route in my neighbourhood that only includes the 'good houses.'

By that, I'm referring to those awesome neighbours that give out cans of pop, and the full size chocolate bars. Score. And I am confident I can speak on behalf of all the candy-hunting witches, ghosts, and vampires when I say that there is absolutely nothing worse than eagerly knocking on a door, full of hope and a need for sugar, only to discover a bowl full of apples greeting you on the other side. We can all share in that sensation of disappointment as we put on a fake smile, and mutter a monotone, “thank you,” before running off to the next house.

We know you have the best intentions, but Halloween is the one night of the year that we are allowed to indulge in sweet treats without punishment from our parents. Apples just weigh down our bag, and I hate to break it to you, but they always end up as puréed mush on the side of the road once we're out of sight. It's not just fruit that can ruin our Halloween haul though; I know I always dreaded getting those McDonalds coupons that expired within a week, and those awful brown, chewy candies that get stuck in your teeth. Also, we could really live without a ballpoint pen obnoxiously advertising your company, or even worse - a toothbrush.

There are so many great options being thrown in your face as you walk into the grocery store, so there really is no reason why unsuspecting children should end up with a handful of loose peanuts and scotch mints at the bottom of their bag at the end of the evening.

Even though you might be the sweetest old lady on the block, we've been programmed since our very first Halloween not to accept any homemade goods as they've obviously been poisoned. It may seem ungrateful to complain about free candy, but let's face it, there are just certain products that merit more when making trades at the end of the night. So, when debating what to hand out at the door this year, don't rummage through your cupboards for some old boxes of raisins - just stick to the basics, and hopefully you'll make it on to the 'good house' list for next year.

Sincerely,
Ex trick-or-treater