Growing up, Halloween was a ritualistic part of childhood.  As an adult, I could not possibly care less.  The last time I dressed up was circa 1994 as Dieter, that character from “SNL”.  It was impossibly lame.

Here’s the funny thing … I’ve got a hula girl outfit that I bought six years ago.  Grass skirt, stuffed coconut bra, leis, the whole enchilada.  Never worn it.  I’ll occasionally go downstairs and blow the dust off it.  I keep it around because you never know when you’ll HAVE to have a Halloween costume … or be invited to a drag pig roast.

Now I’m not saying I’m a fun-hater … I’m just saying I choose not to dress up.  I’m so ambivalent about the holiday, I would do a half-ass job of it.  Go big or go home, I tell you.

I went out last night and saw a myriad of people who were dressed to kill.  No, seriously, there were lumberjacks carrying axes and ninjas carrying swords.  And there were about 120 different Chilean miners carrying picks … which, in a pinch, could be considered weapons.  Doubt they could have gotten past security at the airport.

Besides the Chilean miners, I also partied with 23 Snookies, 11 Brett Favres, 6 Naughty Nurses and one really buff Genie.  It was a wild array of Prince Poppycocks and Kim Kardashians.  And there were an inexplicable number of people dressed up like birds … from peacocks to cockatiels to plain ol’ cocks, er, roosters, the plumage was in full display.  And who knew Sue Sylvester was in so popular … there were Adidas track suits EVERYWHERE.

The most creative costume I saw last night?  Human piñatas.  I thought they were a shoo-in for the $1,000 prize.  They were ROBBED by a giant Lindsay Lohan pill bottle.

Oh well, you win some, you booze some.