The idea was recently tossed to me by a new friend that I might be a cereal nerd. I didn’t even know how to properly respond to the mildly teasing accusation. I’d never before pondered the issue. How does one determine if they’re just a casual appreciator of colorful, sugary-coated splendor in a bowl or if they have crossed that fine line towards becoming a bona fide cereal nerd?

Well, this depends upon how you define it. If counting down for the release of all five General Mills’ monster cereals in their vibrant vintage packaging – including the re-release of two flavors I’d never had the chance to eat within my lifetime – makes me a cereal nerd, well then I’ll proudly be the first to let my geeky banners fly. If you don’t judge me walking past you in the Target aisle with seven cereal boxes plus the free accompanying cereal/Halloween recipe book hoarded into my shopping cart, then I certainly won’t judge you for wearing that ridiculous outfit or having that really bad haircut.

Available exclusively at Target, if you haven’t already purchased one or all five of the vintage monster cereals yet, I strongly encourage you to immediately go out and do so now. Due to moving expenses last month, I had to wait several weeks and was forced to hit three different stores before I was finally able to snatch them up. These cereals would make a wonderful addition (food or décor-wise) to any Mad Monster Parties you plan to throw this season.

The monster cereals have long been among my favorites for obvious reasons. They signify four things I love best: fall, Halloween, cereal and the celebration of classic monsters. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been obsessed with the likes of Count Chocula, Boo Berry and Franken Berry. If I had to pick a favorite among the staple three, I’d be hard-pressed to say Boo Berry. I love blueberry-flavored anything, and I think that ghost is adorable with his little hat and bowtie!

Further supporting evidence of my being a closeted cereal nerd for those keeping tabs: I have all the popular cereal mascots displayed in my kitchen (including a stuffed Boo Berry and a stuffed Count Chocula, as well as a plastic Boo Berry bank). I might have a tube of Count Chocula-flavored chapstick in my purse, but I won’t admit that to just anyone. I also made a Lucky Charms blanket several years ago with this fun fabric I found at the crafts store featuring Lucky the Leprechaun and all those magical marshmallow shapes. I guess maybe I am over the moon for cereal.

Can you imagine my excitement when I found out General Mills was not only releasing the monster cereals in packaging to mimic their original character looks and designs, but was also issuing the two fabled flavors I’d heard of but had never eaten? Fruity Yummy Mummy was only sold from 1987-1992. There’s a sporting chance I might have eaten this before, but I don’t have any memories of it, as I turned 10 in 1992. And the other, Frute Brute, hasn’t been on the shelves since 1982, the year of my birth. Here’s a fun bit of trivia for you: vintage boxes of Frute Brute appear in two Quentin Tarantino films: Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. Now you’re probably going to have to re-watch both of those to spot them, aren’t you? Maybe you are more of a cereal nerd than you think, but your secret is certainly safe with me.

But what do the two “new” flavors of monster cereal taste like? Heaven on a spoon! Fruity Yummy Mummy has an orange creamsicle flavor, while Frute Brute has a cherry-almost-fruit punch flavor to it that dances upon the tongue in sweet, sweet delight. Seriously, where have these been all my life? I was going to compose a love sonnet or an ode in their honor – perhaps I will do that later.

I sincerely doubt there is any nutritional value to these cereals (I love the fruit and vitamin-charged marshmallow claims in the original Frute Brute commercial posted below). While not a part of a nutritionally balanced breakfast, these cereals continue to pack a powerful nostalgic punch for the inner kid in all of us, poised to sit down in their PJs and watch retro Saturday morning cartoons. Or maybe that’s just what I plan to do this beautiful fall weekend.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=aR3vQbuqej4

I never saw Signs in the movie theater in 2002. Having watched The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable, I didn’t quite understand what M. Night Shyamalan wanted to accomplish with Signs. It seemed small, provincial and leagues away from the awesomeness of a social worker ghost and the Glassman.

But, watching Signs during the 21st Philly Film Festival screening, I realized it’s deliberately small and provincial. It’s about a small town and an eggshell fragile family attempting to heal the ruptures caused by absent faith and an absent mother/wife. However, as the characters dealt with those issues, the film’s overarching narrative made me realize that it was also one of the CREEPIEST movies I’ve ever seen. Signs is definitely Halloween-worthy. Everything about Signs is creepy from the opening credits until the final swing. The film provides a classic cinematic thriller feeling along the lines of Rosemary’s Baby. Shyamalan didn’t use gore, bright lights or angry serial killers. Instead, he relied on barking animals, shadowy faces, loud noises and cut off fingers.

So, why is it one of the creepiest movies for the 21st century? Let me count the ways …

1. The credits set the stage
   Honestly, the credits creeped me out. The perfectly timed dramatic music displaying the credits through a green background with a faint light circle felt inexplicably menacing. Every time a new name flipped up, I jumped. My expecting something when seeing nothing helped set the stage for the rest of the film.
2. The mundane is scarier than the insane
   Signs felt like an old school Hitchcock where minor things such as a tire squeal, an open pizza parlor door, a field at nighttime, a picture in a book, and a rabid dog felt far scarier than contemporary torture porn flicks.
3. Absence is presence
   Let me tell you, the less you see in Signs, the freakier it is. By placing the visitors and the protagonists in shadows, by hiding most of the light, and by delaying the reveal of the antagonists and their plans, M. Night Shyamalan lets the audience’s imagination play. Shyamalan scared me more by showing me less. Scenes where Graham possibly faces a visitor through a closed door or in the middle of a corn field had me watching through open fingers.
4. Humor helps
   Because the film doesn’t scare the audience non-stop, it prevented me from becoming desensitized to the horror. When Merrill discusses his strike out career with the recruiter, Graham listens to the pharmacist’s confessions, and the kids wonder why crop circle geeks can’t get laid, I felt grateful, but I also kept wondering … what happens next?
5. It features creepy, pale-faced children 
   I have no idea why, but cinema loves creepy pale-faced children. From Children of the Corn to Village Of The Damned to The Shining, all I know is if I see a pale tow-headed child on the side of the road I should run in the opposite direction. Rory Culkin and Abigail Breslin did a great job as Morgan and Bo. But, in the beginning, I wasn’t certain if they were in danger or they WERE the danger. Their pale emotionless faces when they initially discovered the crop circles and when facing their own pets, made me fear them and fear for them.
6. It cast crazy parental figures
   Come on, let’s be honest. Shyamalan cast two of the craziest men in Hollywood. Maybe they were sane then, but the underlying tension in their characters helped sell the story. Gibson did an excellent job as a man whose internal fractures quietly disrupted his family. Likewise, Joaquin Phoenix rocked as the slightly lost loser brother. My favorite scene in the film includes the two characters standing before the basement door facing the unknown threat. Nothing is hotter than two men protecting their family.
7. The setting is everything
   All of the film’s shots held an eerie tone. By setting the film within the middle of a farm and on the outskirts of a corn field, we see the protagonists isolated from assistance, which is already scary. However, the house itself also maintained that isolated feel from the basement to the kid’s room to Graham’s morning showers. By using silence and just showing the rooms without overtly insane action, had me on the edge of my seat.

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Every morning as I peruse the contents of my walk-in closet to pick out a suitable outfit for my day, I find myself face-to-face with many of my ghosts of Halloween pasts. Not actual ghosts — although that would make for an interesting topic. I’m talking about remnants of creative pop culture-inspired Halloween costumes I’ve worn in years past.

One pop of your head into the closet and you can’t help but miss my giant California Raisins costume from last year, along with the pair of white Mickey Mouse gloves and the saxophone I carried around with it. There’s the suit jacket, bloody airplane propeller (constructed out of styrofoam and a headband) and blood-soaked guitar from when I thought it would be clever to be Bloody Holly, Buddy Holly’s post-plane crash zombie.

Oh look, there’s the familiar orange turtleneck sweater I found at a thrift store in order to be my personal style icon Velma from Scooby-Doo, intermixed with the plaid schoolgirl’s skirt I wore as Mary Katherine Gallagher from Saturday Night Live. (“Super star!”) Adorning the shelves are the pea coat I wore as Mary Poppins, the trench coat I donned as Agent 99 from Get Smart and the pair of drumsticks I carried around as Garth from Wayne’s World. Among the myriad skeletons in my closet, there is also a haunting reminder that I have much progress to make in my current weight loss journey. Hanging forlornly off to itself and never worn by me is a vintage Robin (Batman’s sidekick) costume, beckoning to me that I need to lose more weight to fit it. Maybe next year.…

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve enjoyed Halloween and the thrill of putting together an original ensemble that is usually based upon a popular element of pop culture. The older I get, the more I just don’t understand the throngs of people who are content to go out to a Halloween costume shop and buy a “ready-made, store-bought” costume. Where’s the fun in that, and why do so many do it? Is it pure laziness or a matter of convenience? Is it due to the fact that we lose some of our childlike wonder for Halloween once we cross the threshold of which trick-or-treating is no longer considered cool?

I thoroughly enjoy the excitement of coming up with an idea and then hitting all the local antique shops and thrift stores to find the right clothing items to make it happen. And while I may not always look the most convincing, I think I often come close enough. The main point is I’m having fun, and I think the world needs more adults like me out there reliving what it was like to be a kid and getting excited for Halloween again. We may no longer be able to go out and beg for candy, but we can still pretend to be somebody else and just forget about our troubles for an evening.

This year I’m going to be Willy Wonka, channeling Gene Wilder’s classic look from the beloved movie from my youth and not that of the horrid Johnny Depp remake. I couldn’t be more excited. Last year I attended a huge vintage Halloween costume auction where I snagged the purple jacket from Batman’s arch-nemesis The Joker. I’m pairing the Joker’s jacket with a purple ruffly shirt (from a pimp’s costume judging by the look of it), a theatrical walking cane, a pair of khaki pants, brown shoes, some sparkly golden fabric I’m making his bow tie out of and a black top hat that I’ve round-the-clock been spray-painting a golden-brownish color all week. Finding a brown top hat at a cheap price proved too difficult, so I did what I so often do best: I improvised.

The piece d’resistance of my ensemble will be the giant Wonka bar I’ll be carrying around with me. I purchased said item from a convention a few years back during which I met Paris Themmen and Denise Nickerson, who played the original Mike Teevee and Violet Beauregarde. It was made to look just like the bars in the original movie and I’ve never opened it. I bet the chocolate would taste terrible anyway. I just like the look of it in my kitchen. I’ll also be passing out Wonka candy around the office during our annual Halloween costume contest and during my Halloween party with friends.

But what about you? Have you ever pieced together a costume for Halloween or even for a comic convention? I’d love to hear your stories, so I know I’m not alone in my philosophy! To quote the wise Willy Wonka, “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” I dream of a world in which everyone went out of their way to outdo their ghosts of Halloweens past.