10 Halloween Costumes I Really Wanted To See This Year

My challenge with Halloween, after…well, candy… is managing the unrealistic and failed expectations of the Halloween costume. I’m scarred from a childhood experience where I dressed as a strawberry but was called a tomato. And then again the time I did NOT dress up and everyone was like “Oh I know!  You’re Kirk Cameron!” I blame the white pants and permed mullet.

Real picture of me not being Kirk Cameron:


Nonetheless, I love seeing everyone’s costumes. People are so fun and creative.

Also, I secretly like making unfair assumptions about people based on their costumes:

RBJ: I’ll bet she’s read the constitution, for fun.

The penis costume: He orders his amaretto sours ‘extra strong’ and butchers the punchline of jokes.

Sexy Snow White:  She definitely shows up drunk to kid parties.

Anyway. I don’t know what the following costumes say other than “dad joke” or “enough with the puns,” but I’d love to see any one of these costume ideas well-executed:

10. Sonny & Chair 

Not sure where to how you’d make that chair costume but it’s so worth a try. Also, the chair picture reminds me of this time my younger sister got folded up and stuck inside a fold-away sofa.


9. Winnie The Poo Poo
Because Winnie is timeless and poop jokes never get old.


8. Tim Duncan Doughnut
I wish I had small children or a malleable boyfriend I could force or bribe into dressing up how I want them to.

Tim Duncan Doughnut

7. Batmanager
Keeping a straight face when upper management demands you deliver unrealistic concepts against unrealistic timelines with no budget and no additional resources has never been easier!


6. Carrie Fisherman
Strangely enough, it is quite difficult to find a non sexually-charged fisherman costume. Acceptable variation: Dan Rather Be Fishing.

carrie fisherman

5. Kim Kardashi-hen
So many possibilities here but does Kim K really need/deserve the attention of my three followers?! Just kidding. I don’t have three followers.


4. Boy George W
If anything was made to go together it’s a fashion-forward, British 80s boy band member, and a Texas guy who once choked on a pretzel. Boy George W

3. Taylor Swiffer
My google search for “Swiffer costume” led me to this blog and an awesomely creative DIY Swiffer guise (check the blog because his partner went AS MUD!). The Internet is the best.
taylor swifferAlso, does Taylor Swift know that this is the first thing that comes up with you Google-Shop-Image “Taylor Swift Wig Costume”?


2. Sponge Bob Ross
Acceptable deviations: Spongebob Marley and Spongebob Barker.

spongebob ross

1. KellyAnne Conway Twitty
Yes. Please. Someone. Anyone. Do it.

KellyAnne Conway Twitty


Happy Halloween and don’t forget — Scooby Doo and Minnie aren’t meant to be sexy, tricks are for kids and people who pass out fruit and raisins, and be sure to donate your Halloween haul  to a good cause!



The Don of a New (terrible, horrible, no good very bad) Day

If there is anything Facebook and the current political climate has taught me, it’s people don’t really appreciate my thoughts, responses, or feedback on their political opinions.

To be fair, it’s probably because I can be snarky. I tend to “communicate” with sarcasm and pointy quips.

I’ll try to use my words better in this post. I once tried to write a paper in college that didn’t have sarcasm but in the end the professor wrote “I give this an F for Funny” which was really confusing until I looked at my grades in the online system and saw that yes, my grade was indeed an F. I guess there were a few lessons in that- namely,it’s difficult to not be sarcastic when you’ve self programmed that communication style. But the real  lesson: always check grades before the deadline to drop passes.

Anywho. I saw a Facebook post today I wanted to respond to but I didn’t want to do it on Facebook Poster’s page. I’m tired of facebook arguing, and I’m also tired of not Facebook arguing.

She asked why we are so scared. Based on the contextual clues in her post and what I know of her political leanings, I asserted that “we” is me…aka liberals and those that don’t support the Trump administration. “Of what are you so scared?” she asked. Well, actually she asked: What are you so scared of? but I corrected it.

“Are you scared of war? School shootings? Pipeline? Terrorism? Costly health insurance? Corruption? Bullying? Loss of jobs? A tanking economy? Discrimination based on relegion, sex, race, etc?” she demanded to know.

My short answer is…well, yes.  Of course.

“All these things were already happening before Trump-it’s not a Trump problem, it is a people problem” she continues. Then she suggests we stop being scared, stop being so easily offended, and we stop crying.

I wish! That would be really wonderful if I could just, you know, stop being scared and stop crying. I would actually love that. But I’m sorry, I can’t do that right now.

But what I can do is answer your question about why I am scared. Since you asked.

I’m scared for Planned Parenthood. I’m scared for millions of women who depend on Planned Parenthood for birth control. When we provide women with education and free and easy access to birth control, abortions rates drop. Like a lot. There is steady and plentiful stream of data to support that. Abortion rates are at their lowest in 40 years. Education works, and despite the opponent’s unfounded claims, Planned Parenthood’s work is devoted to helping women avoid unwanted pregnancies all together. Trump’s anti abortion executive order will not lower the number of women seeking abortions, it will do the opposite.

I’m scared of a Trump-supported law that makes it a criminal offense to dispose of fetal remains in any way besides burial or cremation including cases of miscarriage and still birth. A funeral for a miscarriage? Horrifying.

I’m scared for my daughter and little girls who have a president who reduces them to their looks and body parts.

“Grab them by the pussy”

“Big fat pig”

“Bleeding out of her wherever.”

“Look at that face. Would anyone vote for that?”

“Miss Piggy.”

Maybe I am overly sensitive and easily offended. I’m still reeling from a 1989 incident where a boy said I had ugly knees, for fuck’s sake. Damaging and inflammatory rhetoric about women and their looks is a hot button for me. I’m scared for those who don’t see the damage, don’t care or worse- think these comments are funny, excusable, not a big deal. I can’t accept misogyny and I’ll never shut up about it.

I’m scared for Muslims. I’m scared to live in a country where people behave and act on false claims, not facts. I’m scared of the people who have been empowered to openly express hateful and bigoted behavior. I’m terrified of the guy who posted “shoot them all on sight” about Muslims in response to one of my posts about Syrian refugees. Facebook Poster said this racism and hatred has always existed, so why the outcry now? I wish I had a better answer than “God, I just didn’t realize…” I didn’t cry out before because I live in my little liberal Austin bubble surrounded by friends and family and essentially an entire community who thinks and acts like me. I’m deeply ashamed for not paying more attention and being complacent. But I see it and hear it now. And I can’t keep hearing people talk about how dangerous Muslims are and how terrorist attacks are imminent when real, findable, credible data says otherwise. 94% of terrorist attacks in the US have been by non-Muslims (that according to the FBI). That’s critical information: Non Muslims. I’m tired of not hearing the term “terrorist” when the suspect in a terrorist attack is not a Muslim. I’m tired of not seeing the hundreds of terrorist attacks carried about by NON muslims not get the same coverage as every attack where the supsect happens to be Muslim. I’m scared of exaggerated fears. I’m scared of what these rising tensions will bring.  Yes, I’m scared of scared people. Lol. But not really lol.

I’m scared of a country that lacks compassion. It is our humanatarian duty to help the children, women and men who want to flee the war zones we helped create. Yes, I’m a proud liberal and Obama-lover and even I agree that mistakes made by the Obama and other administrations have contributed to this crisis. Now, I will turn my outcry into action and do volunteer work for the Texas Center for Refugees. Refugees are welcome here, and I will do my part to make sure that message is heard long after the dust settles from this crazy political shit storm.

I’m scared for our clean water and clean air. All signs point to the Trump administration dismantling the EPA. I’m scared of anti-science people. I’m scared of dirty rich people who undermine the negative impact of environmentally harmful things so that they can continue to profit from environmentally harmful things. E.g. oil deals.

I’m scared for trans kids. I’m scared for the LBGQT community. Trump promised to fill openings on the U.S. Supreme Court with people just like the late Justice Antonin Scalia who was famously anti-LGBT, opposed marriage equality and anti-discrimination law, supported sodomy laws, and compared gay men and lesbians to murderers, child abusers, pedophiles, and people who have sex with animals.

I’m scared of rising tensions with China and Russia and what that could mean for a future war. Perhaps not in my lifetime, but laying the foundation of what will happen in my daughter’s lifetime. And who will be our allies? Certainly not the 1.6 billion Muslims we alienate.

I’m scared that people stopped thinking we should be scared of Russia.

I’m scared because there are so many things that are scaring me right now, I’m having a hard time determining what scares me most. But I think it boils down to this-

I’m scared of a president who employs gaslighting tactics to exert power and control by creating doubts about what is real and what is not. And I’m scared that Americans are buying it. Trump is that guy that will tell you he loves you, cheat on you, punch you in the face, then try to convince you it’s all your fault.

So yes, I’m scared. Being hit in the face fucking hurts.

Princess Knees

I’ve always had big feet and big hands and freckles and non-committal hair and knees that look like they belong to a thinner version of me. But I didn’t always know this about myself. There was a time I didn’t think that big hands and feet were embarrassing. I never thought freckles were anything but the angel dust my Dad told me they were. I never thought fixing my hair was anything but optional. And I never thought knees could be ugly. I didn’t think about these things at all. I wasn’t ugly or pretty, I was just 12.

Then one day in the middle school cafeteria line a boy completely rocked my world.

“You have the ugliest knees I’ve ever seen,” he said. He was an older kid and he was staring at my knees, as if he had every right to do so. And when he laughed, everyone else laughed. I was confused for a few seconds but then I wasn’t.  They were laughing at me. So I laughed too because I didn’t know what else to do.

I didn’t say anything because 12 year old me had no idea how to respond to insults about physical appearances. Before the cafeteria incident of 1989 (someone check that math. Nevermind, don’t),  I was blissfully naive.

But now, someone made fun of my physical appearance, called me ugly, and it was awful. My body responded in the way it just does without my permission sometimes. I was paralyzed, a lump the size of a gorilla fist lodged in my throat, my heart beat so fast I thought everyone could hear it, and my cheeks flushed hot poppy  red – like a nonverbal, public apology for being so ugly. I couldn’t wait to get my food and go eat my square cafeteria pizza in the bathroom, out of sight.

It never once occurred to me how ridiculous it was (is) for someone to insult someone’s knees. So you don’t think my skin-covered patellas are pretty? It also didn’t occur to me to ignore him, or not care. Suddenly I was just painfully aware of how flawed I was.

Until then, I didn’t know I was ugly or had reasons be be embarrassed about my body. But now I knew and that changed everything. And so began the painful quest to not be ugly, embarrassed or made fun of again…a downward spiral into obsessing over my looks and an unrealistic, expensive and painful quest to be flawless.

I’m not sure if it was immediate or gradual but eventually, I hated everything about my appearance. I wasn’t proud I could palm a basketball; I was mortified and terrified somoene would make fun of my hands. I sat on them or hid them in pockets. I formed a habit of making tight fists because without seeing my fingers, one couldn’t accurately gauge the exact size of my hands.

I obsessed over my hair. It wasn’t straight or curly or short or long, it was just a mullet-esque, mop of mousy brown threads that saw a few bad perms and a ton of Aquanet and Vavoom freeze spray. I could make my hair not move for days. But if it did move, if it was not perfect, I would fake sick and not go to school.

I also hated my freckles and layered cheap concealer, thick pancake foundation, and powder to hide them. It took hours to apply my layers. I was late and last to everything, always. The only thing that took longer was sloughing it off at the end of the day. But I felt ugly and exposed without it.

When my coach ordered basketball shoes for our team, I asked for a size 8, and then spent the next few years stuffing my size 10 feet into size 8 shoes, because aches and blisters (and permanent damage to my feet) were less painful than not having the same size feet as everyone else.

And those ugly knees? Clearly my cheerleading career was over before it began. Eventually, I became so self-conscious about them, I stopped wearing shorts and dresses altogether. But I had high school sports to get through. Fortunately, I hurt both knees and had to wear braces on both when I played sports. I looked like a rejected science project from the robotics lab (just kidding, my small town Texas school didn’t have a robotics lab), but at least no one could see my ugly knees under all that…plastic???  I don’t even know what my roboknees were made of.

Let’s not even get started on dieting. I’ve done all the diets. All of them. Low carb diet, Ketogenic diet, Zone diet, Atkins diet, cabbage soup diet, apple diet, raw food diet, Mediterranean diet, Weight Watchers, GCI, Whole 30, Paleo, Ab diet, South Beach. I even tried an all pasta diet once and I really wish an all pasta diet was a good thing, but it is not. I also don’t recommend the apple or cabbage soup diet either, but for different reasons.

I recently confessed to a friend that I rarely wear shorts or dresses because someone once told me I had ugly knees, and it just stuck with me. That’s embarrassing because I’m 40 and how is it possible that such a stupid statement from decades ago is dictating today’s wardrobe choices? Stick and stones break bones but words will seriously eff your shit up.

My friend responded to my deep, dark confession without a second of hesitation.


Of course, we were halfway through our second bottle of wine (and mind you she’s never actually seen my knees) but that’s irrelevant. Just as “ugly knees” stuck with me, so has “princess knees.”

You know why? Because “princess knees” is just as ridiculous as “ugly knees” because WHO THE EFF CARES WHAT YOUR KNEES LOOK LIKE?! I have to thank my friend for pointing out the obvious in the way she did, and loving me the way we all should love each other –drunkly, blindly, and without hesitation.

I’m working on my own body image issues, still. It’s important to note I’m not pinning all my issues on one comment a middle school kid with an underdeveloped  pre-frontal cortex made a million years ago. It is just representative of an increasingly looks-obsessive culture that is really hard on us gals. We feel like we’re being looked at and evaluated all the time. 

To further complicate matters, we have daughters to raise in an increasingly appearance-obsessed culture? How do we raise powerful girls that grow up healthy and strong and confident when we are still struggling to overcome our own self worth issues?

It breaks my heart to think of all I could have accomplished if I focused all the time, energy and money I put into trying to be pretty and worthy of boy’s attention into something for which I was truly passionate- writing, art, mission trips to poverty-stricken communities.

I do tell my daughter she is beautiful but it always follows another compliment like how witty and clever she is, how creative she is, how investigative she is, how proud I am that she likes learning (err, not to be confused with liking school).

The key is balance. Yes you’re beautiful, but you’re not only beautiful.

I alsoencourage her to think more critically about our culture, media and otherwise, and its narrow definitions of beauty. Reminding her, myself, and anyone else who will listen that these images are carefully and purposefully curated.

I want her to question patterns, I want her to be aware, I want her to be analytical. I want her to be happy and healthy. I want it to be weird to her that someone would think to comment on her body. I want HER, without the help of the unhelpful media, to create her own narrative around her beauty and her body.

I want her to ask,  “I wonder how much time she spends obsessing about what she eats?” versus “If I stop eating, can I look like her?”

I want snapchat filters to go away. Except maybe the ones that turn you into a fruit or pirate.

I want fat shaming to go away and I want everyone to stop using  #thinspiration and #thatbodytho.  #Seriously #shut up.

I want people to stop being okay with letting girls think their value is correlated to their appearance.

I want girls to stop saying:

I’m too tall,

I’m too short,

I’m too skinny,

I’m too fat,

My nose has a bump,

My  knees are ugly.

I’m ugly.

We are healthy, we are strong, we are smart, we are creative, we are kind, we are good, we are witty, we are funny, we are powerful and GOD DAMMIT, we have fucking princess knees!