Stamped: October 26th, 2006 | Toggle Similar
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So here we are, and it’s Thursday. Great. That means I have three full days to do my LEAST favorite thing in the world. Come up with a costume for Halloween. The one themed party event night that is almost impossible to shrug off. Especially in San Francisco. Everyone here goes apeshit for Halloween, I swear, for Christmas there’s nary a wreath to be found but for Halloween, if you don’t dress up you might as well hop on the funeral pyre and let the queens whip out their Zippos.

It’s really a no-win situation, either you go balls out and spend eight million dollars and an entire day searching for a bad ass costume, or you go to the corner store, get some kitty ears and a tail, and call it a day. I’ve done both and it’s just annoying. In fact it’s more than annoying. It makes me want to come down with a case of the syph for Saturday night so I don’t have to deal.

So, inevitably, I’ll fall victim to “Slut Syndrome”. Not all that original. Much has been said on the topic of why most girls take this as their annual opportunity to dress like a prostitute without the nasty side-effect of actually turning a trick. The simplicity of it is astounding. It appeals to me because basically, you can be a slutty anything. You can be slutty roadkill for chrissakes if you have the tenacity. I was once a slutty ladybug. I kid you not. I wore a short black skirt, a red sparkly halter (it was college, fuck off, they were in) and atop my cute little head, antennas with round red sparkly balls at the end. Now, I’m not entirely sure they were supposed to be ladybug antennas but I did my best. The slut part is really the point. Show enough leg and no one says a word about how much your costume sucks, they’re just trying to get a peek at your hooha. Vagina! An accessory for every occasion! Ask Lindsay Lohan.

I would like to say that my feminist hackles are raised at the thought of pandering to the basest instincts of the male gender, but, eh. Not so much. It basically breaks down like this. I’m single. Halloween is just another party in my mind but I have to be slightly strategic about it. We’ve got the slut denominator and that’s critical, I can’t really afford to get on my feminist high horse unless I want to smugly chortle in the corner BY MYSELF as I watch all the slutty mcslutters get the action. This all sounds very degrading but men are simple creatures and those parameters have to be noted. If I walk in the room as a slutty librarian with legs that just won’t quit, I’ll get decidedly more ass than if I dress like Snoopy or Star Jones (although I’m not quite sure how I’d pull THAT one off). While I may not LIKE it, I have to fall in line. We all do, so let’s just shut up about it already and get slutty. I mean I almost feel a little entitled to it. The rest of the year I’m self-respecting girl so for one night of the year I might as well cash in on my 26 year-old bod and make it pay.

So, my point is, maybe this year we should all take it easy on the proselytizing and let the wannabe sluts be sluts. If you’ve got guaranteed ass or aren’t concerned with getting laid, by all means, Snoopy it is. I’ll be in the corner doing my best impression of stripper meets wicked witch of the west. Sans the hooha showing, of course. That’s just cheating.

P.S. This might be the best costume ever - SpiderCrotch! How appetizing.

Last 5 posts by Lo

• Hello, God? It's me, Fashion Mullet. - March 30th, 2007
• Sidle on Up to the Booty Bar - October 20th, 2006
• Slacker Central - October 12th, 2006
• Lo's Weekly Rant: I Call Bullshit. - October 5th, 2006
• Lo's Church of Unattainable Men: Part Deux - September 28th, 2006