25 Reasons Why Halloween Is the Worst

Play "Monster Mash" one more time. I dare you.

If you and your kids don't rush to Party City the second Labor Day rolls around, they'll have to go as an unlicensed "Snow Princess." The horror.

You're no longer limited to "Sexy Nurse" or "Sexy Police Officer." You can now opt for "Sexy Alexander Hamilton", "Sexy Nemo", or "Sexy Pizza." Pick your jaws up off the floor, fellas! My crust is up here.

It wouldn't be Halloween without some good old-fashioned cultural appropriation, I guess.

Oh, you're dressing up as Eleven this year? How original.

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Putting on a clown mask and jumping out at your friend from behind the couch seemed like a good idea at the time. But that was before she reflexively punched you in the face.

Call me crazy, but I'd rather not spend an evening being chased by a chainsaw-wielding pumpkin patch employee in a werewolf mask.

I don't know about you, but I generally value my peripheral vision, and would prefer not to bump into strangers and pieces of furniture all night.

Don't let Karen from accounting bully you into dressing up again this year, OK?

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That is, if the squirrels don't get to it first.

They're more work than a live Christmas tree and they don't smell as nice.

Nothing makes me feel older and crankier than tweens with too much time on their hands.

I got up off my couch to serve you fun-sized Milky Ways, so don't push it, kid.

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Apparently "society" doesn't think that I, a 30-year-old woman, should be allowed to go door-to-door asking for candy. Not even if I borrow someone else's kid to do it! Ugh, what's the point of this stupid holiday anyway??

You worked so hard to put together the perfect look. Now, thanks to the parka you're forced to wear, no one will even see it.

It's loud, it's sweaty, and as if that wasn't bad enough, your friend just puked all over a dude dressed as Daenerys Targaryen.

Can't. Stop. Eating. Snickers.

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They taste like chocolate-flavored cardboard, if cardboard was pliable and capable of getting stuck in the tiny recesses of your molars.

Break out the stretchy pants and just let it ride until the new year.

You'll be humming it in your sleep — because it's playing every damn place you go.

I've never actually bobbed for apples, and I plan to keep it that way.

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I just learned that this is a thing in which helicopter parents park their minivans and make their kids trick-or-treat from trunk to trunk, and now I feel sad.

PUMPKIN SPICE HAS OFFICIALLY INVADED MY VODKA. Is nothing sacred?!

Even the edited-for-TV version of A Nightmare on Elm Street will scar you for life. Trust me on this.

Face paint is so fun!!! … 'til it's time to scrub it off. And don't get me started on the post-face paint breakouts...

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Does the fact that there are a mere 55 days between Halloween and Christmas make you want to curl up into the fetal position and never leave your house again? Me too, chubby baby. Me too.