“So, you’re team Jacob because he’s not always putting Bella in a situation where her limbs could be ripped off?” – A Snow Day Tale

This post contains the longest title ever.

This is post also catalogues a classic “If You Give a Moose a Muffin” scenario.

If your mom watches the third Twilight movie, but hasn’t seen the prior editions (or read the books), she will have lots of questions.

If she has lots of questions, she will wait until you come up for lunch and ask them of you.

If she asks you all of those questions, you will be forced to answer them.

 

If you answer her questions, you will realize and display that your knowledge of Twilight, while incidentally absorbed from reading the books once, while substitute teaching, so that you could understand your students, is expansive.

When you have expansive knowledge of Twilight (incidentally!), you will find yourself going on and on about how, of course, vampires need a governing body with a strict, no-tolerance policy of punishment. Because immortality and superstrength.

 

When you go on and on about vampire pugilism, you will end up making shockingly specific comparisons between the Anne Rice-ean vampire lore and the diluted wierdness of Stephanie Meyer and Twilight.

When you start comparing Twilight to Anne Rice, you will end up pointing out no less than 15 ways in which Stephanie Meyer takes established vampire lore and throws it out the window for the sake of convenience, i.e. “We can go out in the sun, but only in Washington state, and we don’t incinerate, we just sparkle.” Because, apparently, glitter.

When making these comparisons, you will wind up bringing True Blood into the conversation because you’ll realize that your mom never read Anne Rice, but devoured the True Blood series, books and television.

 

When you bring True Blood into the conversation, you’ll start making comparisons between Evan Rachel Wood’s Vampire Queen of Louisiana to the Volturi.

 

When you start making comparisons between ERW and the Volturi, you’ll start talking about abuse themes running concurrently with vampire narrative.

When you start talking about abuse themes, you’ll start to quote psychology papers that analyze Bella and Edward’s relationship as classically abusive.

When you start talking about vampiric abuse themes as they pertain to Twilight, you’ll inevitably bring up the abuse themes in Twilight Fan Fiction, namely Fifty Shades of Gray.

When you realize that you have discussed, with authority and knowledge, Twilight and Fifty Shades of Gray, you will need to go have a cookie. And read some war literature. Or watch a documentary about global warming.

Ugh.

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What did you say you were dressed as again? A "Sexy Tupperware Container?"

Today is Halloween, y’all, which means it is literally my least favorite day of the year. Seriously, I like tax day more than this.

As promised, I scoured the internet looking for the most ridiculous sexy costumes. Why? This phenomenon of “Slutty Halloween” or, as some call it, “Slutoween” fascinates me. (No slut shaming here.) What’s wrong with just dressing as Hillary Clinton in drag and calling it a day?

Let me tell you, kids – there are some real doozies out there. We have taken this concept to a completely ridiculous level. Observe.

First, however, I’d like to offer some context. If you are a man and you want to dress all sexy-like for Halloween, here are your choices:

  • Sexy Top Gun
  • Sexy Firefighter
  • Sexy Policeman
  • Sexy Cowboy
  • Sexy Detective
  • Sexy Soldier
  • Sexy Football Player
  • Sexy Vampire
Degrading? Shut up. At least they represent somewhat real careers.
Okay, fine, the vampire thing is embarrassing. I’ll give it to you. Sorry, Twi-hards.
Degrading, though? Like I said, shut up. Here are our options:

 

Sexy Chucky
Because nothing says sexy like a creepy, murderous doll with a bad perm and a rage problem. Though,  to be fair, I’m not convinced that the rage problem wasn’t caused by the bad perm.
[Source]
Sexy Pikachu
Goodbye, childhood pleasantries. An entire generation of boys-turned-men just lost it in their pants.
[Source]
Sexy Lioness
Ladies, please. Lionesses would never wear those f*cking ridiculous bath slippers. They’ve got too much shit to do. I saw The Lion King. I know how it works.
[Source]

 

Sexy Mermaid
I ask you, what about this says mermaid? She looks like the My Pageant Barbie I never wanted. Hint: Just because you’ve got seashells on your tits doesn’t make you a mermaid.
[Source] 
Sexy Convict
First of all, what is sexy about incarceration? Let me give you a little hint about reality, lovebugs: if you wear this in the slammer, you’re going to get traded around cell block 5 for cigarettes and solitary showering.
[Source]

Other options include, but are certainly not limited to:

  • Sexy Skeleton
  • Sexy Raccoon
  • Sexy Edward Scissorhands
  • Sexy Baseball Player (I don’t even want to think of the strawberries you’d get from sliding in this number)
  • Sexy Where’s Waldo?
  • Sexy Marie Antoinette (Our youths don’t read history. Obvi.)
  • Sexy Unicorn
  • Sexy Prostitute (Not always the same thing)
  • Sexy Baby Panda
  • Sexy Crayon
  • Sexy Babe the Big Blue Ox
  • Sexy Pinata (Really? What message does this send? Hit me with a broomstick and I’ll give you Dum-Dums? AWFUL, people. Just…. awful.)
  • Sexy Native American Temptress (You’ve got to be shitting me… is what I said when I found this.) 
  • Sexy Feline Musketeer (WTF????)
 

I also love the copyright infringement concerns, which give us such gems as:

  • Sexy Artist Turtle Warrior
  • Sexy Tiny Green Fairy
  • Sexy Hello Baby Cat
  • Sexy Miss Polka Dot Mouse
  • Sexy Beautiful Lady Costume
  • Sexy Red Plumber (*cough* Mario! *cough*)
 

I also saw a Sexy Opossum. For more absurdity, check out this list.  It’s ridiculous.

Here’s the thing, and I promise this will be my only rant. If you want to dress as Sexually Liberated Something, why not look to classic literature or puns?

For example, wear some lingerie over a spandex unitard, slap on some knee-pads, elbow pads, wrist guards, and a bicycle helmet and go as Safe Sex?

Or, you could take a leaf out of my friend’s idea book and blaspheme some literary characters. Go as Oscar Gone Wilde, William F@!$ner, F. Slut Fitzgerald, Charles Dickens…

Essentially, ladies, if you’re going to go as Sexually Liberated something, make it good. Everyone around you will appreciate the punnery and you, in turn, will be awesome in addition to being hot.

Or, there’s this…..

I would like to thank my friend, Amy, however, for introducing me to this little gem:

[Source]

Why yes, that is a vagina costume. There is nothing slutty about it. After all, vaginas are the bringers of life, pleasure, and, occasionally, sub-psychotic rage. It’s up for auction. If you would like to bid on it for me, I would totally wear it/take a picture. Read more about it here.

And then I’ll probably turn it into my new Lady Gaga-esque sleeping cocoon because coziness.

With that, I’m realizing that you may never come back here again, but I would like to argue the point that me being okay with a giant vagina costume is not nearly as bad as Amy Sedaris (who I love) going on Chelsea Lately with a felt vagina and a demonstration for how to clean it that involved thumbtacks.

Also, this is a really shitty post. Then again, I hate Halloween, so I won’t give myself too hard a time for writing a shitty post about slutty Halloween costumes without really giving a damn.

If we’re being honest, I had big plans for this post. But then Amy sent me the vagina cocoon link and I lost all interest in slutty koala bears and fixated 100% on that. Obviously.

Incidentally, Carter has put the kibosh on all lady-part costumes, regardless of how cozy they look. The plush uterus is already a big stretch for him. I can only tax the man so much before he snaps and brings home a herd of nearly wild wolf-dogs. You know, to compensate for all of the plush ladyparts in his home.

The truth is, I’m too lazy to dress as Slutty/Sexy/Sexually Liberated anything anymore. Okay, that’s not entirely true. My bat wings and backfat are the main reason, but lazy might be the root of those problems too. I’ll never tell.

Either way, to all of you adults out there, dress to your hearts content. Just make it smart.

And if I ever have a daughter and, at 16, she tells me she wants to go as a Slutty Astronaut, give me the strength, Lord, to haul her ass out of that Target and into the minivan, all the while yelling that she will be going as an M&M and she will damn well like it. And not that tart of a green M&M. She will be the yellow M&M. And she will wear leggings for she will not get to break my heart with her boobs until she goes to college because, to quote Tina Fey, “I will not have that shit, Lord. I will not have it.”

Happy Halloween, kittens. May it be filled with adult beverages, Hocus Pocus, and the occasional plush ladypart.

P.S. Captains Morgans Spiced Rum and Apple Cider. You’re welcome.

P.P.S. Hocus Pocus is the only Halloween movie I appreciate. If you don’t, well, there’s something wrong with you.

P.P.S. I still haven’t named the plush uterus. This is a problem of similar magnitude as the conversation about whether we will have a baby in either 8 or 17 years. Of course, by then, I’ll be too exhausted to prevent my hypothetical children from dressing like tiny, tiny prostitutes. Which means that I will officially be Kris Jenner.

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