Monday, October 31, 2016

Plastic costumes need to make a comeback. But they would probably be labeled a safety hazard. Certainly a fire hazard.

This. All of this. (Aside from the prevalence of cigarettes)

Today’s Halloween vs. a 1970s Halloween

1. Halloween Costumes.
1970s: The night before Halloween, your tired mom takes you into K-mart, where you look through the picked-over plastic masks with matching costumes. You clutch that $5.99 Cinderella or Spiderman mask and matching costume to your chest on the way home as you slide around on the bench seat without a seatbelt in the back of your parents’ wood-paneled station wagon, while your mom smokes in the front seat. There were no costumes left in your brother’s size, so when your mom gets home, she pulls out an old stained sheet from the musty bottom drawer and cuts two eye holes in it so your brother can go as a ghost. She then puts four frozen salisbury steak TV dinners in the oven (and this time, she remembers to pull back one corner of the aluminum foil on top so the sauce isn’t frozen popsicle gravy).
Today: Three months before Halloween, your mom starts researching politically correct costumes and narrows it down to three choices. A family meeting is held for everyone to vote on their costumes, in order to allow the children to exercise their decision-making skills. Your mom then spends three days on Pinterest planning the components of the non-genetically-modified corn costume. Afterwards, she spends $279 at the local craft store to purchase non-allergenic material and locally made glue, only exchanging the green material twice to get the exact shade for the corn husk. She has you model the finished product with a series of 17 photos so that she can blog about the steps to making it. Then, she posts it to Pinterest and Instagrams the photos.

2. Getting Ready On Halloween Night.
1970s: You bust through the door from school and run straight to your costume, pulling it on over your school clothes. You try the mask on, knowing its tiny breathing hole will in no way facilitate oxygen exchange while you run around like a crazy person during trick-or-treating. You lie to your mom and say you can breathe just fine. The mask eyes never fit perfectly, so vision is limited, but you lie and tell your mom you can see, even though she doesn’t care by then because she is too engrossed in her “stories” on TV to be worried about something as minor as breathing and seeing at night. You run around in your costume in the yard, getting sweaty, until it’s time to go right at the moment it starts getting dark outside.
Today: You come home from school and your mom has a tray of organic vegetables fashioned into non-scary Halloween shapes like smiling pumpkins and happy ghosts with a side of homemade hummus. You have dedicated quiet time in your room reading a book or drawing so that you don’t get over-stimulated. Your mom double-checks the neighborhood association’s newsletter to ensure that she’s right about the designated trick-or-treating hours of 6:37 p.m. to 8:01 p.m. One hour before the designated neighborhood time slot, your mom tells you to pee, wash your face and brush your teeth. You open the package of new organic thermal underwear that perfectly matches your costume. Your mom gently helps you into your costume and carefully paints your face with dye-free, organic tint. Your mom takes two selfies of you and her and posts them on Facebook with a countdown clock. She then positions you into 12 different poses in front of the recycled farm background that she made during her lunch hour earlier that day. She posts those pictures to Instagram.

3. Halloween Night Trick-or-Treating.
1970s: As the streetlights click on, your mom rips two pillowcases off of the pillows and hands one to you and one to your brother to put the candy in. She hands you an old flashlight that weighs about two pounds, but has to shake it first to get it to work. You immediately shove it into the pillowcase as you run down the sidewalk, your mom waving from the front door as smoke from her cigarette encircles her head. You meet up with some friends from the neighborhood and run like maniacs from door to door until your mom yells for you or the scary widow lady tells you it’s time to go home. You drag your full pillowcase of candy along the road and into the house. It’s 11 p.m. Your mom is asleep on the couch with a cigarette burning in the ashtray.
Today: Your mom presents you with an organic tote bag on which she’s stenciled your name, the holiday and the year with dye she’s made from soaking organic fruits and vegetables. She clips four flashing orange lights shaped like small pumpkins onto your costume and bag. At 6:34 p.m., your mom buckles you into the back of the Range Rover. She drives to the first neighbor’s house and waits in front of it until precisely 6:37 p.m., when she gives you permission to unbuckle and go up to the first door. After the first house gives you a sugar-free, organic sucker and a toothbrush, you get back into the Range Rover and your mom drives you next door, where you repeat the process until precisely 8:01 p.m. when your mom drives you home.

4. The Candy.
1970s: You rush into the house and dump the candy from your pillowcase onto the floor. Your mom immediately takes the apple (because it has razor blades in it) and the Pop Rocks (because they make your stomach explode, especially if you mix them with Coke in your mouth). She hands you one of the homemade popcorn balls from your stash so you can eat it while you sort through your candy. Your mom puts the pillowcases back on your pillows and tells you to check the chocolate for pin holes in case someone injected something into it. You and your brother eat candy to your hearts’ content while you watch Halloween. You pass out on the floor in front of the TV with a stomachache, still in your costume, at 1 a.m.
Today: Your mom carefully helps you out of your costume. You go upstairs to take a shower while your mom swabs your candy wrappers for signs of drugs, explosives or other illegal substances. She throws away the products that are not organic and separates the candy into chocolate vs. non-chocolate. She unwraps the 17 toothbrushes you received and puts them into the dishwasher to sterilize them. When you come downstairs, clean and in organic pajamas, you are allowed to pick one piece of candy to enjoy before you go to bed. You brush your teeth with one of the sterilized toothbrushes and you are in bed by 9:17 p.m. You got to stay up late for the special occasion and are excited! Your mom searches Pinterest for healthy ways to use leftover Halloween candy and looks for local dentist offices that will trade candy for another toothbrush.

5. After Halloween.
1970s: You wear that costume every single day until it falls apart. The cracked plastic mask lasts a little longer because your mom keeps replacing that broken rubber string on the back of the mask with a rubber band. Next year, you’re bummed because your plastic Cinderella mask is too cracked to wear. Your mom asks you to hold her cigarette while she tries, one last time, to replace the mask string with a rubber band. It doesn’t work.
Today: After Halloween, your mom carefully rinses your non-GMO corn costume in the organic homemade laundry detergent. She discreetly hangs it to dry in the laundry room so it doesn’t waste electricity in the dryer. After, your mom carefully folds it, places it in a recycled bag made of hand-sewn fibers and donates it to the church for next year’s costume exchange. She then immediately starts researching handmade Christmas gifts on Pinterest to make for the 42 extended family members who will be at your house for the holidays.

Friday, October 28, 2016

A Day in the life of a Storm Trooper

Stormtroop Beverly Hills

That day you drive to work in a Stormtrooper costume and pray to God no one rear-ends you so you don't have to get out of the car on the highway when it's not yet Halloween. #runonsentence

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Can I get an amen??

That time I went to church and my mom and I got into the WRONG CAR in the parking lot. I mean, people shouldn't leave their cars unlocked. You know, in case CRAZY PEOPLE GET INTO THE WRONG CAR. Sorry, Lord.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Dreadful sorry, indeed

Found a recording of me at age 18 months, in which my dad is trying to get me to sing all the songs I know. At that age, I knew a surprising number of songs - and a random assortment at that. Everything from "Do Re Mi," "Puff the Magic Dragon" and "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" to the more obscure tunes my grandmother taught me: "Pony Boy" and "Oh My Darlin' Clementine." (NOTE: Many of these songs are CRAZY sad when you really listen to the lyrics!! See below...) But a super random addition to my repertoire: "Macho Man" by the Village People. To be fair, it was 1978 and one of my dad's tennis buddies taught it to me, but still.

Tragic lyrics to Oh My Darlin' Clementine:

In a cavern, In a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner forty-niner,
And his daughter Clementine.
Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
Oh my darling Clementine,
You are lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry Clementine.
Repeat chorus
Light she was and like a fairy,
And her shoes were number nine;
Herring boxes, without topses,
Sandals were for Clementine.
Repeat chorus
Drove she ducklings to the water,
Every morning just at nine;
Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine.
Repeat chorus
Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles, soft and fine;
But Alas! I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine.
Repeat chorus
When the miner forty-niner,
Soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he oughter "jine" his daughter,
Now he's with his clementine.
Repeat chorus
In a corner of the churchyard,
Where the myrtle boughs entwine,
Grow the roses in their poses,
Fertilized by Clementine.
Repeat chorus
In my dreams she still doth haunt me,
Robed in garments soaked in brine.
Though in life I used to hug her,
Now she's dead, I'll draw the line.
Repeat chorus
How I missed her, how I missed her
How I missed my Clementine.
So I kissed her little sister,
And forgot my Clementine.
Repeat chorus
Now you Boy Scouts, there's a moral
To this little tale of mine.
Artificial respiration,
Would have saved my Clementine.
Repeat chorus

Monday, October 24, 2016

Nailed it

My mom and I went to the nail salon yesterday. I asked for a classic mani/pedi combo, and my mom opted for the deluxe spa pedicure. We sat down next to each other, but immediately I wondered why my pedicure seemed so much fancier - paraffin wax, rose petals, a tray of various scrubs that looked edible, etc. Then they started on my manicure, but also tried to do my mom's hands. She said she just wanted the pedicure, and they pulled out her order form to show her that she selected the combo. Of course, it was MY order form. So I got her fancy pedicure AND my manicure, and she only got my plain pedi. I paid for both of us, so I guess it all shakes out in the end. And my tootsies are very happy, thankyouverymuch.

Friday, October 21, 2016

Adult bibs, anyone?

How is it that I manage not to spill anything on my WHITE PANTS all day yesterday, and then come in today in a new green dress and spill yogurt all over myself. #karma

Thursday, October 20, 2016


Taking my mom to the Arboretum tonight to see a Beatles cover band. And next week I'm going to see a Michael Jackson cover band. Oh, cover bands - why do I love thee? (BECAUSE I DO.) Maybe it's because when you see a good cover band, it's like seeing the actual band but for a lot less money. Which also explains my fondness for consignment stores. I'm cheap, folks. So be it.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

This is Awesome

I cannot say enough good things about "This is Us" on NBC. Seriously - it is soooo good. And not just because it fills the "Parenthood" void (which it does). Mandy Moore? Love. Milo Ventimiglia? LOVE. 80s flashbacks? Duh. Here's hoping it won't go the way of Freaks and Geeks and get cancelled after one glorious season. Please?

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Yes please

I love that a hotel in Boston is offering an "Election Escape" package - they remove all news channels from your TV, and they clip all the articles out of your newspaper. Not gonna lie - it sounds rather magical. #ptes (post traumatic election syndrome)

Monday, October 17, 2016

Fair Dinkum

Made it to the State Fair yesterday. It was hot, ridiculously expensive and occasionally smelled like vomit, but that's all par for the course. Saw a bunch of Taylor Swift's outfits and marveled at how tiny of a person she is, got a henna tattoo, got a bit nauseous on the merry-go-round and lost at several (rigged, to borrow a Trump phrase) midway games. A bit shocked by how "modern" it's gotten - Big Tex tells you to check out his Facebook page, and there are free charging stations throughout, but all in all, good times. #howdyfolks


Before I felt sick

Rode this Love Bugs ride when I was at Fair Day in middle school. Scary/cool that it's still there.

Friday, October 14, 2016

My one-acting debut

Met up with a high school friend last night, and we giggled remembering the infamous one-act play we were in freshman year - 75229 (thanks, 90210). She played the slutty girl (whose costume was so small it fit into a Ziploc baggie) and I was the dorky freshman - fairly accurate for me, I guess. I had to kiss two boys (possibly my first kisses, although not sure it counts if it's for a play), and she kissed one of them as well. One day after practice, she asked, "did Gordon slip you the tongue??" Sadly, my answer was "no..." Story of my life, people.

But the one-act was a huge hit, and we were like celebrities at the arts festival where we performed it. In fact, I think we weren't allowed to perform the play at my high school after that and we had to find an alternative location. Scandalous!

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Dumb as a box of rocks. Literally.

All of my mom's stuff arrived via movers on Monday. The other night I started bringing in boxes to try to be helpful. One said "books" and was ridiculously heavy. Knowing books can be, I didn't think anything of it and dragged it into the house. Upon opening it, I realized it was rocks. A box of rocks. (My mom wants to create some sort of rock garden/water feature in my backyard, so wrapped them up and brought them from Colorado. I guess our Texas rocks aren't good enough??) So anyway. After a brief Se7en "what's in the booooox?" moment, I realized that I literally opened a box of rocks. And so it begins.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Bone. Ken Bone.

I am obsessed with Ken Bone. And love that his red Izod sweater has sold out (Halloween, anyone?). And clearly I'm not alone:

Just 27 Really, Really Good Tweets About Debate Hero Ken Bone

Tuesday, October 11, 2016


This election just keeps getting weirder. (I can't wait for the TV movie!!) Particularly amusing to me is the fact that two candy companies have taken offense to Trump's comments, and have had to make public statements:

Please, Donald - don't offend Red Vines. I really really like them. #thanks

Monday, October 10, 2016

What would Jessie do?

My mom randomly suggested "Slater" would be a cute baby name.

I agreed at first, and then thought of this:

Nope. Not gonna do it.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Signs signs everywhere there's signs

So my neighbors across the street put up a Trump/Pence sign in their yard. It's actually the first one I've seen (although I've seen a bumper sticker or two), and of course my mom wants to now put a Hillary sign in my yard. Which I will not do - no need to make this the Hatfields and McCoys. But I will admit that I'm secretly hoping Charlie decides to poop next to the sign. So I can take a picture. And then clean it up. I'm not completely insane.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Queen of the low-ball offer

So part of my job is to find a location for our holiday party. (tough job, but someone's gotta do it.) We booked Emerald City as the band, and were super excited to have the party at Southfork Ranch. The theme (Dallas, obvi) is built in, and lots of people haven't been there, so it would be perfect! Except it got nixed by the higher-ups who wanted something "snazzier." Enter a popular new bar in Uptown. Great views of downtown, but a Friday night buy-out costs $150K. Our budget is $50K. Somehow they were willing to come down to $50K, which includes venue, food, open bar AND valet. What the what?? I keep checking the contract to see what I'm missing, but it seems legit. Sure - just drop the price by $100K. No biggie. #expectingwatereddowndrinks

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Starting a petition

I miss the E True Hollywood Story. There, I said it. I feel like there are a ton of scandals/shows they could do a THS about (and yes, I call it THS. Sue me.) - but then again, I found this list and clearly I have not seen all of these. And now I really want to...


Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Single White Female

(let's hope not) Guys it's happening. My mom is moving in with me. Thursday. Not forever, but for a while. I'm actually not dreading it (and not just saying that because she reads this blog). She stayed with me for about a week before my nephew was born, and it was kind of nice having someone to talk to. And having home-cooked meals ready when I got home from work. And having someone to look after my dog while I'm gone. And someone who enjoys gardening try to tackle my yard. Of course, I say this now - try me again in a week.

Monday, October 3, 2016

But half of "treat" is "eat"

Took my dog to the vet on Saturday - all of her vaccinations were due (bummer). She weighed in at a whopping 16 pounds, and the vet told me she needed to get down to 15 at the most. Bummer again. I mean, she's not completely  sedentary - we walk twice a day during the week and 5 times a day on the weekends (she is not only fat; she is spoiled) . Of course, she gets a treat after each of these walks, so I guess it adds up. Plus she gives me the sad eyes when I'm eating and I tend to give her a lick of my yogurt lid. She's very good at the guilt. I can feel her eyes on me, and when I don't acknowledge her she moves to the other side of me. And then hops up on the couch next to me. GAH! You win, devil dog!! let the dieting begin. For the both of us. Say it with me: BUMMER.