The PEN15 Club hope you all had a happy Halloween. And now that all of the candy has been counted and the razor blades have been fished out from the apples, we’d like to take a moment to reflect upon some of this season’s best Halloween costumes.
1. Pre-withdrawal Harriet Myers: A clever politico may have accomplished this look by strapping a dead squirrel to her head, running her face through a dishwasher load of pots and pans, and calling Tammy Faye Baker for eye makeup advice. Then, she’d finish it off by inserting her nose into the ass of a willing accomplice, just to get the right amount of brown on the tip.
2. Post-withdrawal Harriet Myers: Same as above, but assume the swagger of someone who’s been fucked up the ass for the last four weeks.
3. Fergie: These committed costumers had to eat nothing but bologna for three months, then stack on the ‘roids to get the proper musculature and crazy-in-the-head look. Following that, they had to assault an American Gladiator and come away with her outfit, and con a drunk whore into giving them makeovers while blindfolded. To top it off, they had to piss their pants and make themselves smell of vagina.
4. John Roberts: The best way to be Roberts was to buy an outfit from Talbots, and then master the delighted facial expressions of someone who’s been fucked up the ass for the last 36 years.
5. Kevin Federline: This look was accomplished by calling Vincent Gallo and asking him what he’d wear to his mom’s funeral, and then adding socks with sandals, a Starbucks cup, and a wife beater that says, “She (arrow pointing) just gave birth and I ate the whole placenta.”
6. Very famous bloggers Rob and Jordan: 1 part gayface + 2 parts scent of gin hastily covered with bad cologne + 1.5 parts fatigue of one who spends too much time masturbating + 6 parts clothing from TJ Maxx, the outlet – 4 parts dignity.
Update: Check out the comments for some good reader submissions.
My favorite costume this year, I must admit, was my own: refugee from Hurricane Katrina. This involved my wearing: light-blue 80s Levis caked in dried mud up to the waist; Budweiser knock-off “Buttwizer” t-shirt, as befitting a redneck drunk; about 15 lbs. of mardi gras beads (borrowed) around my neck, ankles and wrists; pink leash and collar (sans chien) around my neck for my missing dog; (fake) looted gun sticking out of my waistband; genuine Pat O’Brien’s hurricane “to go” glass (overnighted from the Fr. Quarter bar) half-filled with the closest thing to a real hurricane that I could find — red Alize. The only things I did not, regretfully, add: blackface; and a few roof shingles attached to my back (none available on short notice).
I applaud the above description of Federline and Roberts.
I live in Stepford - literally - so dressing up as something inhuman doesn’t really allow you to stand out from the crowd. I just continue to act gay and foreign. It works.
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