I remember

It officially being October, four of the Incredible Floormates and I were discussing what we should be for Halloween. So far we have two criteria:

1. It must be coordinated for five people

2. It must include stripper boots.

Yes, we've considered the Spice Girls. We'll see.


And, because I can remember, here's what I was for Halloween for as far back as I can recall.

Kindergarden: A ballerina. The first dramatic casualty of The Mother's "You WILL wear a sweater over that" decree.

1st grade: A witch. I believe I ate a large quantity of the green lipstick. Yeech.

2nd grade: A hula dancer, just like Molly from the American Girls Collection. I believe this one was also subject to the indignity of a sweater, but it was ok, because in the book, Molly's mom did the same thing. (And Molly wore a red sweater. Did I wear a red sweater? DUH.)

3rd Grade: A cheerleader. Due to inadvertent coordination, my best-friend-at-the-time was ALSO a cheerleader. Oh the drama. (We are no longer friends, and I believe that a large part of that stems from this incident. And my pom-poms were BETTER, BITCH.)

4th Grade: A Milky Way.

This one bears repeating.

A FUCKING MILKY WAY.

Lesson to parents: Do not be obsessive compulsive and actually MAKE YOUR KID A MILKY WAY COSTUME out of a GODDAMMED BOX, because A.) They will need therapy later in life, B). It is impossible to run at optimum candy-collecting speed whilst encumbered in a Milky-Way like box. C.) If you fall down while attempting to run ANYWAY in said box, you will fall down. (Yes, my friends laughed at me. Shut up.)

5th Grade: A hippie. Fittingly, this was the first formal rebellion against the Parental Regime of the Sweater, because I had the WORLD'S COOLEST tye-dyed shirt and THE MAN wasn't making me wear no sweater. Of course, being me, I didn't actually gave the guts to ditch it, but had to carry it in the bottom of my candy bag.

Which was, in retrospect, moronic, because then I had LESS ROOM FOR CANDY. Tragedy, really.

6th grade: Harry Potter. I would really not care to discuss this one because, well, in sixth grade, I had read way too much for my own good and subsequently morphed into the world's tiniest raging Feminazi. Oh, painful memories. So, naturally, I was a boy for Halloween, because this, people, this was A Statement. Single-handedly crushing gender stereotypes right and left, that was me.

*takes break, attempts to build time machine, hit middle-school-self over head*

I did manage to partially shake the persistent rumors that I was a lesbian by dressing like a complete prostitute for the next six years, but that's another post.

7th Grade: Yoda. The second in a line of painful adolescent choices. While I fully support dressing up as sci-fi characters, this is a risky move and requires the right environment, the right company, and the right crazy attitude. Funnily enough, the warm, nurturing, ACCEPTING middle-school environment does not meet these criteria.

8th Grade: Nothing specific, but did dye my hair eight different colors with those awesome spray things and managed to stain several other people by brushing up against them. Good times.

9th Grade: Avril Lavigne. The origin of this one escapes me, but I am at least comforted by the fact that this was at a time when she was still cool and not a yet poser.

10th Grade: Trinity. Yes, from the fucking Matrix. Now, I was SUPPOSED to be one of SIX PEOPLE in Matrix attire at school that day, except EVERY SINGLE ONE of you PANSIES chickened out. (I know you're there--you're fifty percent of the readership at this point. And I know where you live.

Not that I hold a grudge or anything.)

11th Grade: Freudian Slip. I wore a white lace slip and carried a (fake) cigar. Approximately three people got it. Sigh.

12th Grade: Elf queen. At this point, I no longer cared. Wanted to be an elf queen, dressed as elf queen. Highly recommended.


And I have a spanish test in ten hours. Awesome!