Hallooween musings

We all wear costumes every day, we all wear masks, sometimes even to ourselves, but during hallooween it seems that people come out of the shell of defined behavior, throw social expectations out to the wind and use this holiday to be who they really are or who they subconsciously aspire to be. Some women, for instance, that have always wanted to resemble red light district entertainers on crack, strategically use the hallooween excuse to don the sexiest/sluttiest outfit they can muster revealing substantial decolletage and skin that they otherwise wouldn't dare to emphasize during normal days of the year, and certainly wouldn't hesistate to fiercely judge girls that otherwise would. The overmasculine men that work high power jobs and spend most of their evenings pumping iron interestingly appear in flashy diva drag. Now there is something uniquely curious about a heterosexual man who during the normal days of the year acts proper and manly, brown-noses in high-profile dewaniyas, has 2-3 very skinny 24 year old girlfriends, lifts 200 pounds in the gym, but during the one day where he can be whoever he wants to be at a party, he chooses to dress like a woman; heels, make-up, earrings and shiny pink thong.
But despite all of this ostentatious release of our inner desires, and celebration of subconsious insecurities and dramatic emphasis of weird identity crises, the people in costumes still seem to latch on to their insecurities and walk around reciting their unimpressive resumes to complete strangers whom they delusionally believe would find them interesting:
Male-Pink-Thong-Flasher:(reeking alcoholic breath) I am a workaholic. I work for (insert fancy foreign oil company here), I work on weekends as well, but the money is good.
CD: (gingerly contemplating suicide for talking to this punk) wow, thats fascinating.
MPTF: I spend most of the time in the desert, other than my gym and uncles's dewaniyas, I don't see any of Kuwait. And during holidays and free weekends I make it ia point to get out of here. I work hard but I also party hard as well. (Pulling his pink thong further up to his waist for the obvious purpose of capturing my attention/curiousity/fascination) So...what do you do?

I don't know why people in social settings always have an inclination to spit out this generic redundant question during the first three minutes of talking to them. It instantly pressures you to glamorize your profession and exaggerate your zest for your job, instead of revealing who you really are. Have we molded into a society where we are strictly defined by what we do? Or have we run out of things to say, ask, or talk about? What happened to conversations about art, music, travel and literature? Why are we always inclined to talk about jobs! By the 8th time of being asked this question in only one evening I was, like everyone else, compelled to throw proper defined behavior out to the wind and say something ridiculous like:
"I'm a flea circus ring master. I 've been training fleas for circus performance for the last 6 years in portugal"
"I'm a specialised camel and sheep shaver in Yemen and Zambia. My job entails a lot of travelling, research and meticulous razor skills"
"I'm an online exotic dancer. You should check out my website, it runs in three languages; farsi, cantanese and arabic, and for $12.99 you can get a live performance straight from my web cam on Thursdays."
"I'm a Zambony truck driver in Kuwait. I spend all night and day cleaning the only ice-skating ring in the country"

The next time I find myself in the company of a cocky self-proclaimed workaholic , especially one dressed in drag, I will be sure to say one of these lines with a straight face, kick back, put my feet up and watch the reaction.