It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…

Halloween is the holiday I celebrate for a full month. (Ok, admittedly, I also do this with both Thanksgiving and Christmas.) Horror movie marathons start October 1, and carry on until I have to legitimately accept that it’s November and I have to start obsessing about semi-racist Thanksgiving decorations. Candy shopping happens sporadically (Mostly because all those horror movie marathons need snack, and then I remember I have to compensate for trick-or-treaters). I make plans to go to every single party I’m invited to.

This year, I made my own stegosaurus costume.

In my head it looked like this.

This glorious example of costume excellence and artistry is courtesy of my favorite blog, Hyperbole and a Half. Go read it and buy her book.

This glorious example of costume excellence and artistry is courtesy of my favorite blog, Hyperbole and a Half. Go read it and buy her book.

What it really looked like was this:

I was chasing a tiny dog dressed like a dinosaur at this time.

I was chasing a tiny dog dressed like a dinosaur at this time.

I’m on a classic costume kick, so I was going to dress as the bride of Dracula for work today…but then I realized I had to go to the mall at lunch for an errand, and didn’t want to deal with long frilly sleeves in the stores.

That’s right. The mall affected my wardrobe decisions for the day.

So, I’m a blood sucking lawyer. Because I am both work appropriate and _hilarious_. (For reference, no one in the office thinks this is even remotely entertaining. Apparently the term “blood sucking lawyer” hasn’t made it to the south yet.)

Halloween Blood Sucking Lawyer

Lawyers _Totally_ make this face. Just go see one and tell them you can’t afford to pay them.

I may be one of the few adults below the Mason-Dixon line who actually enjoys Halloween, but by golly, I’m going to celebrate it enough for everyone. You’re welcome, the South.

(This blog post is very short and unenthusiastic because no one will leave me alone today and I used up all my creativity this month on costumes. It’s a finite resource, y’all.)

Life Lesson: The Rule of Halloween

Life Lesson 7,245:

If you’re a grown woman and your boss asks you what you’re going to dress up as for Halloween, do not say “a stegosaurus.” Just say “dinosaur.” Your specificity will undermine your professional adulthood.

I have a problem. It’s called “terminal honesty.” This is probably the result of being a chronic liar in the sixth grade.

Parents: “Daughter, did you do your homework?”

Me: “Yes, absolutely, loving parents. I have completely mastered long division”

Three Days Later, post parent-teacher conference

Parents: “Daughter, you have apparently not done homework for three months.”

Me: “…Oh. I thought you were talking about my homework four months ago. I did that homework. Were you talking about recent homework?”

The disappointment in my parents’ eyes eventually (it took awhile) guilt-ed the devious liar-ness out of me. And resulted in my horrendous honesty in the face of nearly everyone, including my overly normal employers.

Out at lunch yesterday, we were discussing my coworkers’ many children and Halloween. As the only employee in this group who hasn’t made any tiny people, I tried to avoid any awkward participation in this conversation. Until all eyes turned to me, anticipating my contribution of Halloween plans.

Devoid of children of my own to draw attention away from my inner child (who escapes often), I maintained my aura of expert cool by mentioning that I’m attending a party at a local art studio. (Sounds cool, right? Yeah, we’ll just skip over the fact that this is also the place where I go to watch movies like “Sharknado” and “Laser Blast.”)

“Oh?” said my boss. “What are you going to dress as? It must be a costume party.”

“Oh, I’m going as a stegosaurus. I made the costume this past weekend.” I replied.

And then, as the expressions of my boss and coworkers changed into frozen smiles, I realized something.

  1. It’s unacceptable to be a grown woman who dresses as a dinosaur for Halloween
  2. “Stegosaurus” is a really specific dinosaur for a grown woman to mention. This would only be eclipsed by something like “ankylosaurus,” but in your 20s, it is not socially normal for a non-archaeologist to differentiate dinosaurs.
  3. Adults do not make their own costumes. This implies too much dedication to dressing up.
  4. It’s always safer to say “a witch.”
One of the options that results from a Google Image Search for "Women's Stegosaurus Costume."

One of the options that results from a Google Image Search for “Women’s Stegosaurus Costume.”