Halloween is Stupid, and Related Thoughts

Halloween is dumb. I mean, I live in California. As if the girls really need a formally-sanctioned holiday as a reason to dress sluttily? (new word, you heard it here first)

I have never once in my life caved to this trend. Looking back, I can tell you that on my years of Halloweenieness I have paraded as a variety of things, each year slightly more repulsive than the last. This may go back to my childhood in unique Halloween costumes, such as the famed year of Marie Antoinette in junior high. As an adult, I have made delightful costume choices (when/if I chose to dress up):
-a gaudy 80s girl
-an ugly gypsy
-a two-headed (I can't speak for my friend, but I certainly pulled my share of ugly) alien in platform sneakers and a green face mask talking on a rutabaga "telephone" with my hair in curlers
-a white trash wife with mullet, etc.

And this year I believe may have been my crowning achievement in the creativity category- my friend and I went as Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels.

Now, I know what you're thinking- you are thinking that these costume choices have probably negatively affected my game on these nights. The irony is that I want them to. I really do want to stand in a corner and watch guys hit on the slutty zombie nurse and feel self-righteous and justified.

But the craziest thing happens. The uglier I am, the more attention I am showered with. It's incredible but true.

I first noticed this a few years back, when a friend and I went as a white trash couple. She completed her look with a black eye, an appearance of stubble, and so on. And I did obnoxious bright makeup, horrendous fake tattoos (rose, heart-and-dagger, anyone?), and a two-tone mullet. We went out expecting to just have a fun night of dancing together. We completed our looks with black tooth wax, just to make sure we took it to the hilt.

It was as if a spell was cast upon me. For the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I was being hit on left and right. I couldn't understand it. A guy I'd noticed before but who never gave me the time of day was giving me the time of day-- when I was dressed LIKE THIS? Incredible. My friend experienced the same. She looked like a busted *guy* and she was getting love. Eventually I had to ask a male friend what the hell was going on. And he simply explained that "no girls who were actually ugly would ever dare to pull this off, so it's a safe bet." Fascinating!

Well this year I thought we'd be safe. I had wanted to go as Octomom, but a trial run (after a day of wine tasting -- I don't do that stuff unprovoked) demonstrated that if I braid my hair and put gobs of lip gloss and huge sunglasses on, I have an uncanny resemblance to her. So nix that.

Due to my recent unbreakup I made myself look as unattractive as possible by going male, mustachio'd, and toothless. I just wanted time with my girls being silly and entertaining myself with mustache changes on the hour ("always bring a spare!" I'd announce, going from a handlebar mustache to something shorter and spiffier, for example). The outfit took some commitment, as fake facial hair gets really hot and I began to react to the tape that held it on. (insert joke about Middle Eastern girls and mustaches)

It began quite successfully. On Friday night we went into a party where our own friends didn't recognize us and thought we were just two dudes who wandered into their party. Then I was intercepted by a recently-turned-21-year-old Beetlejuice who badgered me to see my ID, not believing my age (which granted, I loved). Once we reached agreement that I was just genetically lucky, he insisted that I was the hottest 31 year old he'd ever seen, "even with that thing on" (referring to my poncho, I suppose). He kindly (and persistently) offered to take me out for my birthday and "buy me some lingerie". Much as I could have used a rebound from the Great Dumping of 2009, we parted ways amicably and I wish him luck dating those born after 1980.

On Saturday night we hit a second party. And lo and behold, before I knew it, Jack Daniels and I were again chatting it up with men at a house party where we knew almost no one. I know, I know, at this point you're wondering if we just attract guys with bad taste, but that's another post for another day. These guys seemed nice, friendly, and were cute. Thus we spent lots of quality time with the likes of Black Jesus (a guy who came as black Jesus, but when you called him "Black Jesus" he called you racist, much to his merriment), Lady Gaga, and some guy in body paint and a loincloth whose costume we never quite figured out, but who pinned my friend against the wall in the most terrifying 20-second wall/lap dance I've ever seen.

I continue to strive to find ways to defy Halloween. Given the failure of the aforementioned heinous costumes, we have decided that next year we are going to take the slutty Halloween cliche to a new level...and go pregnant. Not *really* pregnant, but the kind of pregnant that involves costume padding and the ability to go forth and drink your weight in whatever's being served. In other words, the fun kind of pregnant.

Slutty pregnant french maid, anyone?