You’d think that Halloween falling on a Friday would preclude the “need” that has arisen in recent years for “Halloweek,” in which the actual All Hallow’s Eve is reserved for little kids (apparently being driven into the neighborhoods of rich assholes to beg for social services, because as we all know a Fun Sized Snickers is indeed an important social service), and the weekend before the big day is when all of the ragers occur.
You’d think that most frats and bars would recognize that Friday is, indeed, a weekend night, but you’d be wrong — last night, the 25th, was the big Douche Bag Conflagration in my neighborhood, in which all the douchey bars on Maryland and Euclid got together to make one big Douche-a-palooza costume bash. And given that this week has been unseasonably warm, last night was every sexy costumer’s dream. You didn’t even have to pre-game on Midori and Malibu to get “warm” enough to leave the house in your Sexy Princess Elsa getup. Spectacular.
Now, Halloween — actual Halloween, the kids’ version of Halloween — has long been my favorite holiday; when I was little I would spend the entire month of October concocting elaborate cardboard-box-and-spraypaint-based costumes (my best was definitely Max Headroom in 1988, though it resulted in what was already the fairly common occurrence of me being mistaken for a boy or mocked for looking like one), and for weeks upon weeks after the big night, my brother and I would spend a good hour after dinner turning our living room floor into a candy stock exchange (as a five year old he had yet to develop his superior finance acumen, and I would often weasel him out of seven Fun Size Milky Ways for a sole pack of LifeSavers, which for some reason were his weakness).
I am having a kid largely so that I have an excuse to go back to Disney World, and to celebrate real Halloween again. I already have some costumes planned out for next year, even though my killjoy mom thinks that dressing a baby up in a costume is not fair to the baby (to which I say, that kid keeping me up all night long and making me eat a goddamned STEAK to boost my iron levels is not fair to me; last night I ate a fucking steak for dinner, and while most of you might be like, “Wow, you’re lucky,” as someone who eats 98% vegan I did not find it particularly enjoyable, and would very much not like to do it again).
I realize, though, that for a lot of you repressed young adults out there, All Hallow’s Eve is your only chance to express the sexuality that is otherwise forbidden in whatever dumbass household you grew up in, to release the inhibitions whose roots are probably psychologically and socioculturally fascinating, but which you have no desire to explore in any way that doesn’t involve overconsumption of Goldschläger and a poor approximation of Traumnovelle (aka Eyes Wide Shut).
And you know, great. Who am I to crap all over your expression of sexuality, even if it is only for one
night weekend entire goddamned week week a year?
I am all for the expression of sexuality in Halloween costumes — I just wish it didn’t have to be so sexist. So, as a public service announcement, here are some excellent ideas I have for last-minute sexy Halloween costumes, sure to make you the hit of your douchey block party, kegger, mild-mannered house gathering, or even trick-or-treat night with your kids (because you shouldn’t just take the rich people’s candy, you should scandalize them too).
1. Sexy Darth Vader. This works equally well for a man or a woman, though opinion is divided in my house (along predictable lines) as to which one is better. Vader mask, black bikini/speedo, light saber. The end!
2. Sexy Grandma. And no, not just a grandma — your actual grandma. In my case, this would involve carrying around a bottle of gin in one hand and a needlepoint in another, and then swearing at and criticizing everyone. My grandmother was kind of mean.
3. Sexy Food Processor. Just wear your underwear and a sash with the word Cuisinart (or a higher-end brand, if you’re a snob).
4. Sexy Bill DeBlasio.
There, you’re welcome! Now don’t say I never did anything for you, and go forth unto your week of stupid parties. I’ll be here to shoo the poor kids off my lawn.