The Costume Conundrum

WARNING: The post you are about to read in no way supports or promotes the institution of Halloween. If you're hoping for last-minute costume suggestions, or a positive take on the holiday, this is the wrong blog.

As soon as I flip my calendar to the month of October, I feel a premature anxiety regarding the 31st. At the risk of sounding like the Scrooge of Halloween, I hate just about everything about this holiday. Not knowing what to wear or where to go is stressful enough on a regular Saturday night. Add a holiday that requires advanced planning for an outfit and I'm just about ready to draw the blinds and curl into bed until November arrives.

Inevitably, I will go out.

I'll also very likely be too drunk to recall the majority of the evening so it won't make a damn bit of difference what slutty costume I've reluctantly decided to wear.

Even looking back on my childhood, Halloween was never one of the holidays that I looked forward to. More accurately, I dreaded it then just as much as I do today. (Perhaps I was a bit high-strung for a 7 year old, but still.)

I can vividly recall the stress I felt when my teacher announced that we could wear our costumes to school. Showing up to my classroom hoping that my costume was just as great as everyone elses may have been the first panic attack I've ever had. (Seriously, I cried so hard I couldn't catch my breath.) It's hard to determine which costumes were worse: the store bought angel wings/halo that 3 other girls would be wearing, or the home-made bunny that most kids probably wouldn't understand. The pictures that were taken haunt me to this day.

You're probably thing, jeez, what is wrong with this chick?! What kind of child doesn't like free candy from neighbors?? To that I answer, "don't even get me started on trick-or-treating. "

Does anyone else remember all those warnings about the crazy bastards who might give you poisoned candy?! How your parents implored you not to eat anything until you got home and they inspected your loot?? I was completely paranoid that the next KitKat I consumed could be my last....

As I grew up, not much changed. I donned myself in pretty princess outfits, a little red riding hood cape, a rather uncreative witch (if only for the wig), and the like. I coerced my little sister into trading me her snickers bars for my caramel chews from the old lady down the block. We perfected our own little barter system where candy was cash and I always got my way. (This of course changed when she learned how to stand up for herself, but that's a whole different story.)

Then, around the same age I discovered Santa wasn't real, I scoffed at the the costumes of my youth to join the "cool crowd" who did everything they could to define Halloween as a "night of mayhem." (ya know, the typcal ring and run stunt, shaving cream wars, and egging bypassing cars). All that was required for a costume was crazy face glitter, hot pink hair spray, and an outfit that you would discard at the end of the night while your mother picked egg shells out of your hair. Oh the memories.

Later in highschool, all throughout college, and to this very day, Halloween took on a whole new meaning. The pressure mounted year after year to find a costume that encompassed the perfect balance of cute (but not childish), sexy (but not trashy), funny (but not clown funny), and creative (but not confusing). Are you kidding me?!

AND, there was another whole set of criteria if you foolishly decided to dress in some sort of couple/group ensemble.... Will people get it? Will I look ridiculous if I'm by myself? Oy vey!

So I took it upon myself to browse the inventory in one of the many, many Ricky's that has popped up in NYC, only to find that every single female costume available (for no less than $50) is the exact same style just with different colors.

Is that Dorothy? Or Little Red? Or a Beer Maid?

Oh, right. It's all of the above.

Apparently all you really need for a successful costume is a tight corset, a short skirt, and some thigh highs.

Spoiler Alert: Next year I'll be creating a nun version of this get-up to be both hideously inappropriate and equally as awesome.

Happy Halloween!!

Racism, Prostitution, and Balloon Boy

TGIF loyal readers. I've got a terrible wine hangover and am miserable at work today, however, at the request of my sister I'm gonna go ahead and post some nonsense to (hopefully) entertain this afternoon.


While my blog is (and will continue to be) NY-centric, some crazy shit has happened elsewhere this week that deserves a bit of attention.


According to the Associated Press, there is a white man in New Orleans serving as Justice of the Peace who refuses to marry interracial couples. In the same breath he insists he is not racist. (Perhaps he should consult a dictionary for the definition of racism).

The following excerpts are truly classic:
"I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Bardwell told the Associated Press on Thursday. "I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else."

WOW, he lets them use the bathroom?! If I were one of his "piles of black friends" I would politely decline his generous offer to use the bathroom, and instead urinate on his sofa. How's that for Southern Hospitality, Jim Crow?

He came to the conclusion that most of black society does not readily accept offspring of such relationships, and neither does white society. He is worried that the children would suffer.

While I disagree with every one of this idiot's opinions about interracial marriage, I do believe that more people should be concerned for the well being of children in today's world. There are certain individuals who should NOT be responsible for another human life...or a hamster, or a cell phone.

At the risk of beating a dead horse (which I think is a graphic and sad phrase), an incident like yesterday's balloon boy stunt should have never happened.

Who are Falcon's fucked up hippie parents anyway? Obviously, their first mistake was naming their kid Falcon. Are his siblings Eagle and Hawk? How stoned were they at the hospital? (Apologies in advance if anyone named Falcon stumbled upon my blog and is now offended.) Secondly, what on earth would possess this family to have an over sized Mylar balloon just chilling in their backyard. A grill? Sure. A balloon? Not so much. Where is child protective services when you need them?

When I get my law degree, I'm going to make damn sure that there is strict legislation banning media whores from pimping out their children for attention.

Speaking of whores, gotta give a shout out to Germany for their concern for the environment. Apparently, a brothel in Berlin is offering discounted rates for their 'green' customers.

One bordello, hoping to stave off falling demand in the economic crisis, has begun offering discounts to customers who pedal bicycles to the door. To qualify, customers must show the receptionist either a bicycle padlock key or proof they used public transit to get to the neighborhood. That knocks the price for 45 minutes in a room, for example, to euro65 from euro70.

I'd like to call the House of Desire and share my ideas for a marketing campaign:

Ride a bike to ride a broad.

Want love for your weener? Think greener.

Take the bus to screw a huss(y).

Want to nail some cheaper ass? Show us your bus pass!

Newsday Tuesday

Not only did I have actual work to do (making up for a 4 day weekend away from the office) but the Jets terrible MNF loss led to much more beer consumption than I had anticipated. As a result, this is going to be short and well, not necessarily sweet:

Personally, posted calorie counts in NYC fast food joints don't make an ounce of difference when I've decided I just need a Big Mac (disgusting, I know). Apparently, I'm not alone.



If only I had tried to attend Ithaca College now. I guess I'll have to settle for being among one of their wildly successful alums.


Whatever. ...and other such dismissive phrases that we overuse to the chagrin of our peers.

Additional Funny Stuff (that I was too lazy to look for yesterday):

Some admistrators want to essentially take the college experience out of college. I think I'd rather contract swine flu than take any of these precautions.

Um, yet another reason why stupid people should not have responsibilities in a bakery.

Newsday Tuesday

I think it's fair to say that Tuesdays are my most productive day of the week. Unless the Jets are playing MNF, I have no real reason to go out on Monday night. The fog from the weekend has lifted and I'm already looking forward to next weekend because hell, hump day is just 24 hours away.

In an effort to blog more consistently I'm going to start a weekly column called Newsday Tuesday*. I read the news anyway, but for the sake of my readers I'll be focusing on finding stories that range from ludicrous to phenomenal and anything I find noteworthy in between.

*Any less lame suggestions for a column title are much appreciated.

*Caveat: Columns will be suspended or delayed if my paying job gets in the way.

*Aside: If you're interested in real news, check out The Daily Beast instead of my blog. Edited by Tina Brown of The New Yorker, it's like CliffNotes for life. Never again will you be that clueless moron standing around the water cooler while other people are discussing an important political event or global crisis.

Today, courtesty of FoxNews, more evidence that NYers are ridiculously aggressive on the road (and are so jaded that they are unphased as bystanders of absurd happenings.)

David Letterman's infidelity and excessive office trysts make me wish I had done more to promote my blog. If only he had read my advice on who not to sleep with he might not be in such a pickle.

The addition of Mercury is one of the many reasons I will NOT be getting a SwineFlu shot this winter.


Lastly, October is not only Breast Cancer Awareness month, but it's also the height of apple picking season!

Surviving a hangover at the office

My dear little sister, a 2009 grad, has recently started her first big girl job. It should go without saying that I'm uber proud of her for managing to score a full-time position in this economic climate. Even more proud of her for turning to me to answer all the tough questions in life.

It's Monday morning and she's dragging ass. Monday mornings suck. Monday mornings suck infinitely more with a hangover. A hangover that, during football season, is almost inevitable.



Lucky for her, I've had quite a bit of experience masking my less than lucid existence.



I'm not even going to address the fact that we should all know better than to get completely hammered on a night before a day at the office. Once the bad decisions have been made all you can do is damage control.



Hopefully you took all the proper precautions before passing out for the night. (Tall glass of water, ibuprofen, and some carbs.) You should also set your alarm for the latest possible minute you can wake up and still be on time for work. This is not the day to try to wake up early to make lunch before you leave the house. The more sleep you get, the better off you'll be.

1. At the risk of stating the obvious, wake up and take a shower. I usually shower at night after the gym, except when I've gone out drinking. A nice hot shower helps wash away the stench of booze likely eminating from your pores.



2. On your way to work stop at a Dunkin Donuts. Get yourself a large coffee, a sausage egg and cheese (SEC), and a dozen doughnuts*



*No, I do not think that 12 sugary doughnuts will make your day any better, but if you bring them for your co-workers they will a) appreciate your genorisity and b) be on enough of a sugar high to pick up the slack for all the work you won't be doing.

3. Don't let on that you've engaged in debauchery. It's not like you'll get fired for being a bit fuzzy, but it's just better to create an image of responsibility. If your eyes are red, claim it's your allergies (even if you don't have any) If you're exhausted, confess that your allergy meds make you drowsy (even if you don't take any). You might even get a little sympathy for being such a trooper and not calling in sick.



4. Lay low. Depending on the nature of your job, spend today working on any brainless tasks you might have. Do not undertake a new complicated project because it's very likely that you'll fuck it up.



5. Treat yourself to comfort food for lunch. I'm convinced that pizza is a cure-all. Also delicious on days like this are cheeseburgers, waffle fries, and mac & cheese.

6. Go straight home after work, resist the urge to booze for MNF, throw on your favorite pajamas, and crawl directly in to bed. Tomorrow's another day.