Giving the People What they Want

Zombie Secretary: The Costume that Won Zero Prizes

And that's how you make a staple wound

Red Jell-o, water, flour, Modge Podge, Toilet Paper, Hot Glue, Staples

The joys of a small apartment

I'm going to need a new ironing board cover.

Happy Shalloweeen

So, last night I was talking to my brother on the phone and he said, "So, did you see my new MySpace photo?" and I said, "No, I haven't signed on in a few days." I know, I threw up a little bit just typing that sentence. Then I said, "Besides, your page is all messed up and the only thing I can ever see is Stephen Colbert pointing at me." Then LittleBrother said I was messed up and then we had a brief discussion about which one of us was too stupid to use a computer. Anyway, I signed on this morning and this was the photo I saw. Now, I am really hoping that this was LittleBrother's Halloween costume. It seems like a good possibility, since there is a Halloween balloon floating behind him and a girl in front of him that appears to be dressed up like my sixth grade English teacher. But then there is the guy on the right side of the photo throwing me off.

So let's suppose this is LittleBrother's Halloween costume. What could he be dressed as, I wondered. Miscellaneous jackass? Then I looked very closely and noticed a band-aid under his right eye. Oh. He's dressed as old-skool Nelly. I think.

Tonight I am going to a Smith Young Alums Happy Hour after work in Midtown. My costume takes a bit of close observation to discern, so I will help you out. It's called, "When Did I become this Person?". Features:

• Business Casual Clothes


• Sneakers, suggesting comfort over style and also "I've given up on ever finding a man"


• Black and lavender swirl top with black and lavender checked jacket; that is, I'm trying in the macro sense, but not in the micro sense


• Jacket has a fake silk flower on the lapel (purchased in 2004)


• Jacket is slightly too tight (but it fit in 2004)


• Melty face, which results in working under fluorescent lights for 8+ hours, wherein your makeup begins to run and pool in odd pockets on your face leaving both red blotches and cracks in your powder


• Some truly frightening zits I have been cultivating in honor of the holiday


• The fact that I'm at a young alumnae networking happy hour on Halloween night

It wasn't always like this. When I woke up this morning and heard that the weather in New York today was going to reach an unseasonably warm 71 degrees I thought, "That's great for the trick-or-treaters! Then they won't have to wear jackets over their costumes. It sucks when your Mom makes you cover up your costume with a raincoat!" Maybe I'm not yet a truly lost cause. Maybe next year I'll go as Lil Kim.

We Carved Pumpkins

One Sunday night I went over to the GreatDane's for a pumpkin carving party and I brought DerMan with me because he had only heard about carving pumpkins in children's story books and wanted to see what it was all about. He had also taken a trip to Boston recently and seen some jack-o-lanterns sitting on stoops and became obsessed with photographing them, thinking them to be quite rare. The Great Dane knew how to throw a great pumpkin carving party: she offered hot mulled cider spiked with rum, snacks heavy on the sugar, plenty of candles to light up all the pumkins, prizes for the best designs and she let us make a mess of her apartment. It was lovely.












Some of the party guests asked DerMan questions of dubious intelligence such as, "Do you have Halloween in Germany?", "Do you have pumpkins in Germany?" and "If you have pumpkins in Germany, but you don't carve pumpkins, what do you do with them?" But DerMan got in a few beauties of his own. One girl brought a white pumpkin which she carved like a mummy (awesome). DerMan wanted to know how she got the pumpkin white, asking if she peeled it.




I attack the pumpkin with my usual finesse.




I didn't bring a pumpkin to carve, since I just figured I would assist with DerMan's. Also, I am terrible at carving pumpkins. Real crap. We didn't carve pumpkins growing up because knives are sharp and the cupcake children were spazzes and also my father was never crazy about getting his hands dirty. We did a lot of decorating pumpkins by other means, paint, glitter, glueing shit on, etc... Then my mom would usually make my dad carve one jack-o-lantern for the porch but we weren't allowed to help with the carving. Knives are sharp. Then some punk kid from another neighborhood would smash the pumpkin. If we were young enough, we would cry. Good times, good times.

I am skeptical, but resigned.

So I basically handed a knife to DerMan and appraised him of the steps of carving a jack-o-lantern. First, you cut off the top of the pumpkin so you can reach in and clean out the insides. DerMan surveyed the pumpkin from all sides, made his typical "hmm mmm" noises then asked if f there was a ruler so he could measure an even circle. I told him to "stop being so fucking German and get cutting."

DerMan loved his jack-o-lantern and he photographed it the way a proud father would photograph a todler in the snow. The other party guests said it was very good for a first attempt. We won the prize for best carved basketball. DerMan schlepped his pumpkin all the way back to midtown along with the candy the GreatDane gave him that he was supposed to bring into the office to share. Then he sent his photos to everyone he knew in Germany. All in all, it was a Festivus miracle.