Tag Archives: slutty costumes

It’s the season of the sick

It’s almost Halloween, guys! The candy! The costumes! The cocktails! And most importantly, the release of season two of “Stranger Things”!

Truly, it’s the best time of the year.  

Ahem…

If you’re single.

But if you happen to be a parent, October really does live up to its reputation as the scariest month (and not just because your kids won’t let you binge-watch “Stranger Things” no matter how much you beg them).

Forget the mountain of treats that turn your offspring into manipulative and heartless sugar addicts. And all the idiots ordering that stupid zombie drink at Starbucks that takes the barista three hours to make when all you want is a giant-ass dark roast so you don’t collapse on top of your toddler. Or even the fact you can’t find a decent Halloween costume because they only make slutty costumes for women and you now have mom boobs that look ridiculous in a skimpy “Rainbow Brite” outfit.

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No, this is the scariest time of year because this is when it all starts. The season of the sick. The marathon of mucus. The tsunami of tsissues.

That relentless march of germs that invade your children’s bodies and doesn’t quit until that one beautiful week in May when everyone in your family is finally healthy again. (And then promptly begins again that beautiful week in June when everyone suddenly comes down with an awful summer cold).

It all starts NOW.

My kids don’t even have to be around other kids to get sick this time of year. If anyone within a 23-mile radius encounters even a single germ, my children somehow know (probably via mucus telepathy), and they immediately start ripping through tissue boxes like we own stock in Kleenex.

True story. We just got back from visiting family in Ohio. Now, my extended family has approximately 18,000 small children as members. Of those 18,000 children, approximately 17,999 were sick. Or just getting over being sick. Or just starting to come down with something. Or coughed sometime in September but we weren’t taking any chances.  

So, we quarantined our children, even though it interfered with all our plans. We hunkered down at Memaw’s house and hosed down their tiny bodies every three hours with a gallon of hand sanitizer followed by a blast of Lysol directly to the face.

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And yet, AND YET, my little one still woke up one morning with a fever. Which she kindly passed on to her older brother because she licked his eyeballs during a fun game of “Wrestle Until Someone Cries.”

And then she broke out in a horrible rash. But he didn’t. Which made for a particularly rousing game of “What’s The Amateur Diagnosis?”

We specifically avoided any and all people, healthy or sick, going as far as to jump on top of anyone under five feet tall like they were a germ grenade if they even THOUGHT of approaching our babies.

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But it didn’t matter. Because it never matters. Because life is short and cruel and full of snot.

WHY ARE CHILDREN ALWAYS SICK? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, their immature immune systems and other science “facts.” But seriously, WHY ARE CHILDREN ALWAYS SICK?

It’s never when you need them to be sick either. Like when you need a viable excuse to get out of your friend Dave’s “Make Your Own Calzone” party. Or when, say, the latest season of “Stranger Things” becomes available and you need a guilt-free reason to put them in a Benadryl coma so you can watch it.

Oh no. Then they are the picture of health and pestering you endlessly to go to the playground or the library or “parent” them in any discernible form.

They only get sick when it is the worst possible time. Like, oh, I don’t know, on vacation.

And then they stay sick forever.

And ever and ever and ever and then a brief recovery just in time for you to begrudgingly attend Dave’s “Game of Thrones” wine tasting party, and then ever and ever and ever and ever.

Here soon I won’t even be able to remember a time when one of them wasn’t sick. They will just pass germs back and forth with each other all fall and winter and for the next one hundred million months. And they’ll be miserable. And I’ll be miserable. And Daddy will be miserable (mostly because his wife is an asshole when she’s miserable).

On the plus side, however, maybe I will finally get to watch “Stranger Things.”

Where did I put that damn bottle of Benadryl?  

 

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This Halloween, don’t be that kid

[Reposting this column from last year because 1. It’s timely and 2. I don’t have time to write a new post because…well, never mind the reason. I’m just going to blame the baby anyway. That’s what kids are for, right?]

Depending on your age, Halloween can be a very different holiday for different people. For example, if you’re a young kid, it’s a magical night where you get dressed up in a costume and beg people for candy. If you’re a young woman, it’s a magical night where you cleverly dress as a slutty version of some random noun and beg people for attention. And if you’re a young man, it’s a magical night where you follow those women around and beg for anything resembling a sign you might get laid that night.

Yes, it truly is the most wonderful time of the year.

With one exception.

Eventually, you reach an age where you’re a bit too old or a bit too much in a committed relationship (even if that relationship is with your couch and Snuggie) to actually go out and bar hop until you puke inside your six-inch stilettos (ahh…memories). And yet, you’re still a bit too young to actually have children of your own that need to hold your hand as they go begging their neighbors for a pillow-case full of sugar.

Which means you now fall into the fairly lame category of official candy-giver-outter, a demographic composed mostly of childless couples in their 30’s and old people who hand out baggies full of raisins.

Circle of life and junk, I suppose.

Granted, it’s not all bad to stay home on Halloween. And I tried to jazz the whole thing up when I did it last year. I lit a bunch of candles and drank wine straight from the box and didn’t put on make-up so I could scare the kids when I opened the door.

And believe it or not, it ended up being kind of fun.

With a few exceptions.

Which is why I have written the following list of Trick-or-Treating Do’s and Don’t’s for next year’s festivities:

1. The deal is simple. You dress up in a costume and I pay to look at you for 15 seconds with candy. So respect the rules. A Bruins sweatshirt does not make you a hockey player.

2. Speaking of which, wearing sunglasses at night is not a costume, tweens. Unless you’re Corey Hart. Which you’re not. Cause you don’t even know who that is.

3. Yes, I am the cool house with the awesome bowl of top-brand candy that let’s you pick out your own piece. So don’t ruin it for all the polite kids by being the little brat that grabs a giant handful of candy and then tries to go back in and double dip with your other chubby hand.

4. If you are a fellow designated candy-giver-outter, don’t hand out full-sized candy bars. You make the rest of us look like assholes.

5. If you’re 15 and drunk off wine coolers you totally snagged from your big brother’s stash, you are not hiding it well. At all. And it makes me want to give you mac and cheese and coffee instead of Snickers before I send you back to your parents. So just don’t do it. Remember, there will be plenty of time to get drunk on Halloween when you’re older and dressed as a slutty janitor.

6. You have to say “trick or treat.” It’s the rules. Otherwise we will have an awkward standoff with me staring at you and you staring at me while you hold up your bucket.

7. Any toddler dressed as an animal, particularly a bear, gets extra candy. Cause that shiz is cute as hell.

Well, there you have it. And I truly believe if everybody follows these guidelines, we can make this Halloween the best one ever. Well, the best one ever for those of us who aren’t making out with some stranger in some random bar next Oct. 31 (ahh…memories).

Halloween Hangover…

Depending on your age, Halloween can be a very different holiday for different people. For example, if you’re a young kid, it’s a magical night where you get dressed up in a costume and beg people for candy. If you’re a young woman, it’s a magical night where you cleverly dress as a slutty version of some random noun and beg people for attention. And if you’re a young man, it’s a magical night where you dress in something that will hide your groin and beg those young women dressed as slutty Yoda and slutty Dora the Explorer for even the slightest hint of interest in your idiotic self.

Yes, it truly is the most wonderful time of the year.

With one exception.

Eventually, you reach an age where you’re a bit too old or a bit too much in a committed relationship (even if that relationship is with your couch and Snuggie) to actually go out and bar hop until you puke inside your six-inch stilettos (ahh…memories). And yet, you’re still a bit too young to actually have children of your own that need to hold your hand as they go begging their neighbors for a pillow-case full of sugar.

Which means you now fall into the fairly lame category of official candy-giver-outter, a demographic composed mostly of childless couples in their 30’s and old people who hand out baggies full of raisins.

Circle of life and junk, I suppose.

Granted, it’s not all bad to stay home on Halloween. And I tried to jazz the whole thing up. I lit a bunch of candles and drank wine straight from the box and didn’t put on make-up so I could scare the kids when I opened the door.

And believe it or not, it ended up being kind of fun.

With a few exceptions.

Which is why I have written the following list of Trick-or-Treating Do’s and Don’t’s for next year’s festivities:

1. The deal is simple. You dress up in a costume and I pay to look at you for 15 seconds with candy. So respect the rules. A Bruins sweatshirt does not make you a hockey player.

2. Speaking of which, wearing sunglasses at night is not a costume, tweens. Unless you’re Corey Hart. Which you’re not. Cause you don’t even know who that is.

3. Yes, I am the cool house with the awesome bowl of top-brand candy that let’s you pick out your own piece. So don’t ruin it for all the polite kids by being the little asshat that grabs a giant handful of candy and then tries to go back in and double dip with your other chubby hand.

4. If you are a fellow designated candy-giver-outter, don’t hand out full-sized candy bars. You make the rest of us look like cheap a-holes.

5. If you’re 15 and drunk off wine coolers you totally snagged from your big brother’s stash, you are not hiding it well. At all. And it makes me want to give you mac and cheese and coffee instead of Snickers before I send you back to your parents. So…just don’t do it. Remember, there will be plenty of time to get drunk on Halloween when you’re older and dressed as a slutty janitor.

6. You have to say “trick or treat.” It’s the rules. Otherwise we will have an awkward standoff with me staring at you and you staring at me while you hold up your bucket.

7. Any toddler dressed as an animal, particularly a bear, gets extra candy. Cause that shiz is cute as hell.

Well, there you have it. And I truly believe if everybody follows these guidelines, we can make next Halloween the best one ever. Well, the best one ever for those of us who aren’t getting lucky in some random bar bathroom next Oct. 31.

Sigh.

And now for a very special Halloween blog…

It’s been six years, folks.

Six.

Years.

Six years that I have been waiting to once again celebrate Halloween in a climate where autumn is not “hey, it’s only 91 degrees today.” Six years I’ve been waiting to wear a costume without sweat stains. Six years waiting to be able to drink a hot toddy without spontaneously combusting.

And now that I’m in Boston, it’s finally happening. The leaves are changing. The air is crisp. The ground is covered in snow.

Let me write that last part a bit slower, in case you didn’t catch that:

The……………..ground……………….is………………covered…………………………..

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

………………………………………………………in……………………………………………..

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

……….snow.

Yeah. Snow. That white, fluffy crap typically associated with Christmas and Minnesota.

And not just any snow. Oh no. No, Boston had to have a Nor’easter, which is, as far as I can figure out, basically a winter hurricane.

Not that I’m complaining.*

But this does bring up a rather huge dilemma for me. All of my previous Halloween costume ideas are now kind of moot…especially since I am rather attached to most of my major digits and limbs. Which means I now have to scramble to come up with some new ideas for tonight. Luckily, I started drinking early today, so the creative juices are flowing.

So far, I’ve got:

Slutty nurse wearing a parka

Girl wrapped in comforter

The kid from “A Christmas Story” when he’s wearing the giant bunny costume

Slutty cheerleader wearing a parka and long johns

Snuggie representative

Sweatpants enthusiast

Huge sports fan who feels it’s appropriate to wear all their sports gear at once

Slutty Eskimo

Alaska resident

Girl wearing ugly, giant old man sweater but pulling it off because she’s awesome

Slutty slut in a slutty parka

And if all else fails, my last resort is drunk girl who is drinking until she can’t feel anything anymore.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

*Disclaimer: According to the contract my husband forced made me sign, I’m not allowed to complain about the cold or any other kind of weather in Boston since I used up all my wifely “bitching about the weather” tokens in Texas.