Halloween: Sluts, guts and please, no nuts. - BITCHIN' SISTERS

Halloween: Sluts, guts and please, no nuts.

22 Oct

I love Halloween. And not just because it’s my birthday. <–LIE.

Me.

How much do you love these babies?

 

When I was young, I loved having my birthday on Halloween. We would have parties with haunted house themes, costume contests, ghost stories and shit loads of candy. I loved it.

I would agonize over my costume. Should I be an old lady (again) or a jar full of jelly beans? Except for when I demanded to be Bo Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard for three straight years. (I had a slight gender identity crisis when I was young. Stand proud, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt.)

An uncanny resemblance.

Just the good ole boys…

 

...Never meaning no harm.

…Never meaning no harm.

 

I know. An uncanny resemblance. Right? I thought so too.

I would wait until it was pitch black outside and at least thirty-two degrees before heading out to collect my loot. Sure, it was dark and cold. But, I didn’t care. I’d adjust my sock stuffed underwear and look that All Hallows’ Eve right in its dead eyes.

I would walk for miles, dragging a huge pillowcase full of yummy candy behind me, making certain to skip the wicked fucking scary old lady’s house on Smith Lane.

And I knew exactly which houses gave out shit candy.

So glad I walked a mile for this bullshit. Dick.

So glad I walked a mile for this bullshit. Dick.

 

Seriously. No one wants raisins on Halloween. Or ever.

Almond Joys and Mounds are a fantastic idea. If you want your house egged. Even if you’re the one person alive who likes that coconutty nastiness, don’t do it. There’s only one place where coconuts belong and that’s in my pina colada. And nuts belong roasting over an open fire. Just omit coconut and nuts from this season altogether. There’s no place for them.

This guy oughta be ashamed of himself.

This guy oughta be ashamed of himself.

 

You know what else you shouldn’t do? Leave a bowl of candy out just because you “can’t be bothered with those pesky kids.” They’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses. And, no, “Please just take one…” does not work. The emotional intelligence of the average trick-or-treater is about that of a caveman.

The first creepy fifteen-year old that has his parents convinced that he still likes to go trick-or-treating, will steal all of the candy and your daughter’s bike. Then ask her to the prom. Little shit. Meanwhile, the cute little Spiderman and Bumblebee stand weeping over an empty bowl of promises. Would it kill you to answer the door fifty times in one night? Even if you are a little hammered by 7:00 pm.

Trick-or-treat. The Fletchers are assholes.

Trick-or-treat. The Fletchers are assholes.

 

Remember when our parents would have to inspect the candy for razor blades and poison? I never understood this. You can’t see poison?

My older siblings would inevitably steal my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and KitKats, in which of course, I eventually learned to put razor blades. Sorry about your lip, bro.

Who doesn't love a good Halloween prank?

Who doesn’t love a good Halloween prank?

 

But, Halloween is different now that I’m a pretend grown-up. Somewhere along the line, the holiday has morphed into an animal of a different kind.

Now everywhere you turn, it’s all sluts and guts.

I am downright astounded (and a little impressed-slash-intrigued if we’re being honest here) at the unabashed display of sluts that come out of the suburban woodwork on Halloween.

There are sexy cops, sexy nurses, sexy maids, sexy superheroes. I’m going to be a sexy angel. No, a sexy devil. Sexy sewerage worker. And my all-time favorite: The rarely seen Merwhore.

"Look kids, mommy's Ariel."

Look kids! Mommy’s Ariel.

 

Nope. Mommy’s naked. And possibly drunk. At your school’s Halloween parade.

Evidently, it’s okay to dress like a total hooker on Halloween. Even though you’re typically wearing yoga pants, a cute bob, Merrills and are a Girl Scouts troop leader.

I guess it’s an excuse to let your inner whore out. To let that freak flag fly.

No. Should have gone with the skanky pirate costumes. Like last year.

Slut Fail. Should have gone with the skanky pirate costumes. Like last year.

 

I'm fairly certain that J.K. Rowling would slap a cloaking spell on your cleave if she were here right now. Slytherin. Definitely Slytherin.

I’m fairly certain that J.K. Rowling would slap a cloaking spell on your cleave if she were here right now. Slytherin. Definitely Slytherin.

 

Let's file this under things you've never eaten.

Let’s file this under things you’ve never eaten.

 

Unfortunately, Master Splinter was hospitalized with Hep-C and couldn't be available for this particular photo.

Unfortunately, Master Splinter was hospitalized with Hep-C and couldn’t be available for this particular photo.

 

Mommy just broke Halloween

Aaand mommy just broke Halloween.

 

But it’s not just adult costumes. Even some of the children’s costumes I’ve seen this year are risqué. Everything is either racy or violent.

You’re may be one of those moms who hand makes their kids’ costumes. I envy you. I buy mine. Or cobble together something with what we already own. Like a trash bag, some styrofoam and empty cans. BOOM! An environmentalist. Or, slap a First Communion dress on my daughter, throw some glitter in her face and BLAMMO! Glinda, the good witch.

Nailed it.

Nailed it.

 

My daughter has changed her mind about her costume eighty-seven times so far. “I want to be a unicorn, no…a vampire…no, a bicycle. Actually,  I think I want to be a unicorn, dressed as a vampire on a bicycle.”

So, I sent the hubs to the store to get a unicorn, vampire bicycle costume. He came home with this:

 

How to get department of social services called.

And then one of your neighbors calls the department of social services on you…

 

Me: “Um. What the fuck is that?”

Hubs: “A vampire costume.”

Me: “Nope. That’s a hooker vampire costume. For children…Is that a thong?!”

Hubs: “It’s all they had left.”

Me: <Throat punch.>

 

Nope.

So don’t do this.

 

Do this

Do this.

 

After all, they’re still kids. Let them be.

Halloween today is at a whole different spooktacular level. It’s kill or be killed out there.

We spend our children’s formative years keeping scary things out of plain sight. I dive in front of the television if that damn burglar alarm commercial comes on or if they dare catch a glimpse of the evening news. Except for that one time…when I was watching the Walking Dead, dreaming of having hot zombie sex with Rick, and my five year-old came downstairs for a glass of water. That could’ve gone better. She may or may not require intensive therapy for the rest of her life.

Just when she was finally sleeping in her own room. Mommy fail.

Just when she was finally sleeping in her own room.     Mommy fail.

 

And I’ve now spent the last two months trying to convince my children that there’s no need to be terrified of the huge, fucking murderous clown that’s hanging by it’s own neck in CVS.

 

Excuse me? Could you tell me where the lice section is?

Excuse me? Could you tell me where the lice section is?

 

And then Halloween comes along and suddenly, all bets are off. The cruel, sick bastards over at the grocery store are all “let’s construct the world’s largest zombie witch and make it cackle and attack babies when a carriage rolls by…”

Then you take them to Spirit of Halloween and this happens.

Excuse me while I piss myself.

Excuse me while I piss myself.

 

And this…

 

I straight up punched this guy in the mouth.

I straight up punched this guy in the mouth.

 

Why on earth are you crying? It's just Halloween?

Why on earth are you crying? It’s just Halloween?

 

So slap on that sexy ghost costume, scare the ever living shit out of your kids and don’t forget to “inspect” their candy for poison and razor blades. Cuz it’s Halloween, bitches! Now, buy me stuff.

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Weeeeeeeeeeee!

 

 

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6 Responses to “Halloween: Sluts, guts and please, no nuts.”

  1. Danielle October 23, 2013 at 1:31 pm #

    Oh my GOD!! I just staggered upon your blog (via the lice post) and I just have to say THANK YOU!! Thank you for making me feel like a ‘normal’ mom, I’ve read through several posts and feel like I could have written them myself. You know, if I hadn’t been doing laundry.

  2. Sherrill October 24, 2013 at 1:13 am #

    I had the Hobo look going for me whenever Halloween came around. My Mom would shove me in my older brother’s flannel shirt (it stank), rolled up jeans, mismatched socks and shoes. My hair would then be pulled into numerous rubber bands with tons of pigtails all over my scalp. Cuz that’s how hobos style their hair, right? The upside was a pillowcase throw over my shoulder to hold the candy. Which definitely held waaay more candy than those cutesy pumpkin baskets. At least there was compensation in that. But hey, being a hobo was an upgrade to the previous years of being a devil. It was the 70s so the plastic devil mask was pretty damn scary. But then the cheap plastic outfit tore and the next year my Mom combined the devil mask with my furry pink coat (she must have been really tired, no creative juices flowing there). Devils wear furry pink coats, right?

  3. qwertygirl October 24, 2013 at 4:36 pm #

    I too found you via the lice post! Now my head itches again.

    I haven’t been able to figure out when Halloween became National Dress Like a Hooker Day either. WTF?

    My mom sucked at Halloween. Even the time I was a “movie star” in 4th grade, and she painted my nails for me, she used a color that I think is called “Sensible Mother Maroon.” Really, lady? It would have killed you to go buy a bottle of real red nail polish?

  4. Jolene (www.everydayfoodie.ca) October 25, 2013 at 4:24 pm #

    Those are definitely the gross candies! I agree. Candy corn should also be in there!

    Also, I hate how you can’t find a costume these days that’s not “sexy”. I want to be something SCARY!

  5. Emily October 31, 2013 at 10:54 pm #

    never. stop. writing. It’s the best abs work out I get!

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