Never underestimate how a bottle of hair dye can transform your outlook on life!
Tomorrow is Halloween, and I am going to be dressed as Tinkerbell.
Seeing as though last year I was the girl from The Ring (demon-spawn Samara herself), I figured this year it would be nice to bring a touch of levity to the holiday.
My decision was also supported by the fact that I must fulfill both an obligation to dress up at the office, as well as attend a number of business meetings throughout the day (in an appropriate, non-Tinkerbell specific outfit.)
My costume lends itself to these disparate requirements tremendously well. You see, I get to wear one of my favourite work dresses (please see below), and with just the simple addition of some wings and a wand I will be fairy dust ready!
Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
This year Marc and I aren’t doing anything specific to celebrate this spooky day.
October has been such a gongshow of a month (I recently calculated that there hasn’t been one post-work evening in which I haven’t had either a work or social function to attend), and I am running the Boundary Bay half-marathon on Sunday, so we both just want to stay inside and hand out candy to all the little masked munchkins running about the neighbourhood.
Yesterday night we carved our pumpkins, and sticking to true Marc and Vanessa fashion, here are the results:
I don’t think I will ever be able to carve a non-happy pumpkin, and each year Marc’s just keep getting scarier and scarier.
Speaking of all things frightening, and to remain firmly entrenched in the spirit of Halloween, I would like to share with you a story that Marc made up this summer.
We were camping with a bunch of friends and we decided to all share spooky stories.
He came up with this doozy:
Once upon a time, there lived a poor farming family that lived in a small isolated hamlet. Their land fell within the boundaries of a large, and very rich duchy, but they rarely met with anyone in their day to day lives.
The wife bore a set of twins – a boy and a girl. The boy was born blue eyed and fair haired, while the girl had olive skin and hair as black as a raven’s wings.
They came together into the world, one right after the next. He first, and she right behind him, clutching his ankle tightly in her newborn fist.
They named him Day, and her Night.
Each day following, the two were inseparable. Time spent roaming the vast expanse of the farm, and the nearby forest was filled with laughter and mirth.
But when the sun settled, and a deep darkness spread over the land, Night would bid goodbye to her brother, and climb out of their bedroom window, into the black.
Every time she’d leave, she’d remind him to keep the window open and unlocked, so that she could return.
Every night, Day would watch her slink out beyond the frame, ensure the latch remained undone, and then crawl back into his bed.
He would wake to the sound of a soft tap at the window, and he would get up and open the window and help her back into the room.
One day, the two were out in the orchard picking apples, when they heard the heavy clomps from the hooves of a fast approaching horse.
Night ran out from the shade of the tree to see who it was, while Day scrambled to keep up.
It was the Duke, riding one of his hunting steeds, with a party of other noblemen.
Startled by the small child, his horse reared, and struck Night in the head.
“Dirty peasants!” shouted the Duke, as he continued on his way.
Day ran to his sister, who lay so still and pale on the ground. Besides a small trickle of blood that ran from her temple to her eye, it looked just as though she was asleep.
He and her parents buried her the following afternoon.
That night, as Day struggled to fall asleep, he heard a soft taping at the window.
Convinced he was hearing things, he ignored the sound and eventually fell asleep.
The next night he once again heard the noise, only this time it was louder. Still convinced he was making it up, he put his pillow over his head and tried again to fall asleep. Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber.
On the third night the sound was no longer a tap, but an urgent knock.
Day could no longer pretend it was inside of his head.
He slowly got out of bed and walked towards the window. The pane rattled slightly with each thump.
He quickly reached out and undid the latch. The window swung open, and the cool night air rushed into the bedroom.
Cool night air, and nothing else.
Day paused a moment, before making his way back to his bed.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
As he did, he felt a small hand wrap its fingers around his ankle.
And in the morning, when his parents came to wake him, he was gone.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale.
Happy Halloween you boils and ghouls.
Lock up those windows tight.
Hello you fab chaps!
Did any of you get up to anything for Halloween this weekend?
Now, I know that All Hallows Eve isn’t actually happening until this Thursday, but common practice dictates that if this spooky night falls on any day other than Friday or Saturday, you celebrate on the Saturday before.
So in this vein, Marc and I, along with our terrific friends, got together on the 26th, donned our best fancy dress, and traipsed around New Westminster all night long.
It was a hilarious time and I finally, FINALLY, wore a different costume other than the one I’ve been sporting for the past eight years.
I tell ya, I really have got the market on 1920’s golfer cornered.
Cornered but good.
Marc, on the other hand, is an absolute costume maverick and has been putting together awesome showings since the first Halloween we spent together.
This year, he decided that he would dress as Chtulhu (that terrifying Lovelockian beast) and he sewed the majority of his costume from a child’s centipede costume.
WHAT A BOSS.
Check it out:
Now, I thought long and hard about what I would do for my costume.
A tiny little part of me always thinks that I should take advantage of (in the immortal words of Tina Fey) “a girl’s one night a year when she’s allowed to dress as slutty as she wants and no one can say anything about it.”
But this is never, ever going to happen, so I instead, I gravitate away from sexy and towards TERRIFYING.
Which is why I decided to dress like this:
And then proceeded to do this:
Even just looking at these photos gives me the willies.
Have you all watched The Ring?
This movie scared me so badly that I had to sleep with my mum the night that I watched it in the theatre.
And I was seventeen years old!
For the entirety of Saturday night I couldn’t even look at myself in the bathroom mirror, for fear of my own reflection.
Also, I’ve learned that nothing beats running about in a dirty, ripped nighty on one of the coldest nights of the year.
Aaaannnddd…I’m not even sure if that is sarcasm or not.
But seriously, I had to wrap myself in a wool blanket each time we ventured outside.
Thank goodness I didn’t decide to go for full authenticity and forgo shoes for the evening.
But Marc and I weren’t the only ones who put some sweet effort into our costumes – the rest of our group looked epically fantastic.
We had our Top Gear hunks:
And Sean and Ed from Sean of the Dead:
We spent the evening bar hoping around town, drinking sangria, and marvelling at all the other costumed fools and ghouls skulking about the night.
Highlights included a group rendition of The Monster Mash, a lindy-hop jam session between myself and Sean at the Heritage Grill, a late-night showing of Slither, and all the mini-chocolate bars you could possibly imagine.
This morning we all reconvened and enjoyed a late-afternoon lunch down at the Quay, marvelling at the amazing late-October sunshine in all of its glory.
We truly are incredibly lucky to live in such an amazing beautiful place.
And having the chance to run about together in costume isn’t anything to sniff about either.
(Although if you’re doing it in a nighty, I’d definitely recommend brining some tissues.)
Happy Halloween boils and gouls!
(That will never not be funny to me.)
Tonight, as the rain coats all that is living (and all that is undead – MUAHAHAHA!) M and I are sitting by the fire, playing some Skyrim, and handing out candy to all the little ones skipping about our neighbourhood in their fancy dress clothes.
We were supposed to be heading out to a murder mystery party, however poor Mr. M is sick as a dog and the thought of transforming himself into the Grim Reaper without at least one clear nostril to breathe through wasn’t exactly topping his “must-do” list, 2012 edition.
Completely side note: In 2008 he went as the Headless Horseman and it was absolutely phenomenal. Unfortunately, when it came time to cut out his eyeholes, I was laughing so hard that I accidentally poked him in the face with the scissors. As such I was immediately relieved of my duties as vision granter and he tried to do it himself.
Let’s just say it wasn’t the best.
Fast forward to us dancing our faces off at an absolutely packed Media Club to the musical stylings of our friend Marco’s Celtic-punk band.
At one point I looked over at M who was just careening about and thought, “WOW. He’s really going for it.” Right then though he lunged at me, grabbed a hold of my forearm and shouted, “I CAN’T SEE!!! HELP!!!”
Of course this set off a massive laugh attack like nothing, so I had to really work hard to get myself together AND drag him to safety.
Needless to say, he spent the rest of the evening very much with head and clear vision.
And to this day, just thinking about it makes me bust a gut like crazy.
Anywho, getting back to what I was saying, yesterday as I got into bed, I too could feel an itchy-tickle in my throat, so I thought it best if I also sat this one out, much to the chagrin of my inner drama queen.
I love a good chance to get into character, and just generally act like mad chicksor.
Today at work everyone was dressed up, which was pretty heartening to behold.
We had a Robin, a Princess Di, a Justin Bieber (probably one the most amazing things I have ever seen), an Axel Rose and Slash, a snow princess, a law suit, a flapper, a patch of seaweed – honestly, my workmates really hit it out of the park.
My favourites hands down though were these two gals:
L is the train-hoppin’ hobo, and S is the scarecrow.
THESE LADIES BE CHAMPS.
As for me, I am sad to say I somewhat half-arsed my way through Halloween this year.
For the morning I dressed as a Tough Mudder (not exactly me at my most clever I can assure you) but it was pretty fun to walk around saying, “I actually dress up every other day of the year. This is my natural self!”
What ended up happening was that I had a speaking engagement with the United Way at noon, so I needed something I could easily change out of, as I did have need to Clark Kent myself into professional attire.
(Although I kind of wish I could have gone in TM regalia. Talk about a way to pump people up! )
Also, I must apologize for not having photos to share, but I promise to post one as soon as I get a copy of the snaps S took of me in costume.
In the mean time, I’m happy to rest my knackered bones (I actually did a Tough Mudder workout yesterday, and that, combined with a long day of work, and my stand up classes at night has left me feeling a little deflated) and have a glass of wine.
Meanwhile, the kitten is investigating all the treats for our little tricksters:
What are you all up to for the night?
Stay safe, stay warm, and scare yourselves absolutely silly.
Halloween has officially jumped the shark.
And so it goes.
I am actually apt to believe that this company is just trolling us all, and that their employees fill their days playing an endless game of “Sexy Madlibs” in an effort to come up with the most ridiculous costumes as possible.
In fact, because it looks so easy I think I’m going to play too.
SEXY COMPRESSION SOCK!
SEXY SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD!
SEXY BOARDING PASS!
SEXY SHOE HORN!
SEXY EUROPEAN UNION MONETARY POLICY!
SEXY AUSTERITY MEASURES!
SEXY WEDGE OF MELTED BRIE!
SEXY SWEATER VEST!
SEXY CHRISTMAS TREE ORNAMENT!
SEXY PONTIUS PILATE!
SEXY JACKSON POLLOCK PAINTING!
SEXY HEAD GEAR!
SEXY NON-FAT PUMPKIN SPICE LATTE EASY WHIP!
Seriously, I want this job. Not only is it completely bonkers, it is great, great fun.
Now, I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’ve never gone out on Halloween dressed as a slightly more tarted-up version of my normal self.
In first year of my undergrad, I went as a the Short Skirt, Long Jacket girl from Cake’s seminal work “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” (not my finest work, but definitely my most last minute); and the year after I was some sort of trampy vampire (although mostly I was stoked to stomp around in my new Doc Martin boots, flashing my sweet fangs to random passerbys.)
But mostly, I’ve taken advantage of Halloween to dress as either dudes from different decades or Hermione from Harry Potter.
(And not sexy Hermione either BECAUSE COME ON PEOPLE, THAT IS JUST AWFUL AND WRONG.)
I’ve been a 1920s golfer, an Extra Extra! paperboy, and Jerry Sizzler (a clearly insane man, dressed as a woman.)
This year, if I could actually get my act together I would LOVE to go as Psy (although I would have to make sure that I pulled it off and didn’t veer into 1970s prom territory.)
So where exactly am I going with this?
I’m not exactly sure. I mean, on one hand, I feel as though it isn’t my right to stand up and say that women cannot dress the way that they want – on Halloween or any other day of the year.
But on the other hand, the whole “sexy for sexy sake” trope really drives me nuts. It’s lazy and demeaning and ridiculous.
And yet, I also cannot help but keep going back to the line: In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it. (From Tina Fey’s brilliant film Mean Girls.)
So. This is true, yes. But what do we do with it?
Let’s talk it through.
For three hundred and sixty-four days of the year women are judged and shamed every day based on their mode of dress (whether it’s too sexy or not sexy enough).
However, for one night each year, some kind of messed up amnesty is called, and a woman can put on whatever deranged outfit she chooses (let’s say, a sexy hamburger costume), and for the next five or so hours have the opportunity to subvert current social norms and attitudes, because sexy now IS the expected and accepted norm, come Halloween night.
To me, this is some messed up crap.
Instead of, oh, I don’t know, making a concerted effort to do away with the incredibly damaging expectations and implications we as a society have placed on a woman’s appearance, mode of dress, and sexuality, we create a night where it’s okay for a woman to be “sexy” and dress in utterly rubbish costumes (but just this one time!) because it’s only make believe and not real life.
Remember ladies: it’s okay to be a slut as long as you’re not really a slut!
TITILATE NOT FORNICATE!
This ludicrous binary of all or nothing sexuality – where it is important to be both chaste and sexual, the Madonna and the whore – is brutal, and restrictive, and archaic, and so alive and thriving it boggles my mind.
And it messes me up because I get all shirty and confused wondering if I am actually okay with women wearing these kind of outfits? Do they really want to wear that kind of costume or do they just think they should wear something like that? Are these choices symptoms of patriarchy or they conscious efforts to subvert it?
For the love of Pete, someone pass me a mini Twix bar.
The long and short of it is – I don’ t have the answer. So I will finish by saying this:
Ladies: Dress up however you wish, and remember – when the clock strikes twelve on November 1, you won’t turn into a pumpkin (SEXY! Or otherwise.)
No matter what you wear, you will still be the same person, the same heart, the same brain, the same soul. A costume, makeup, a mode of dress – none of these things can change that, no matter what anyone (or society) tries to tell you.
Now, if you excuse me, I think I may have just figured out the perfect costume. This year, I will definitely be going as a SEXY CAN OF WORMS!
Now where’s my can opener…