Two late contenders

OK...some dark horses in the halloween costume race.


1. Crazy lady from the McCain rally who called Obama an Arab. Bonus: already have a blond bob wig I can gel up.




2. The letter G, missing from the end of all of Sarah Palin's verbs.

Topical Halloween!

Please help me narrow down my Halloween choices.


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1. The lovechild of Sarah Palin and Joe the Plumber. Ripped off suit jacket sleeves, tattoos on one arm. Sarah Palin hair and glasses. A plunger.




2. Drill, Baby, Drill. A baby with a drill. It explains itself.




3. My friend thought of it, but I want to steal it. This handsome gal, the McCain supporter too dumb to get the "B" she wrote in the mirror not backwards who claimed she got jumped by a black guy.

JESUS CLOWNFACE CHRIST! WHAT IS THAT? Oh, hey, Pete.

When you're a middle-aged man who's been corralled into going to some sort of Halloween function with your child the weekend before Halloween and you're walking on the dark street and you have a painted freakin' clown face but your black trenchcoat is covering your costume so everyone around you just sees a looming clownface when they look at you, it would be awesome to keep your kid attached to your hip so your neighbors at least stand a fighting chance of not pulling out their Mace when they see you. K?

I made it my whole life without being scared by clowns. That streak is over now. Good job, buddy.

This terrible irreverence goes out to you, KayTeeGee

This post is brought to you by the number 3 and the letters "Musketeers."

Know how babies get that shocked look on their faces when you disappear behind your hands, only to mind-blowingly reappear seconds later? It’s a look like, “Never in my 9 months on Earth have I seen something so incredible!”

It’s heartwarming, really.

Sadly, as you get older it takes more and more to blow your mind. Randomly disappearing faces won’t cut it anymore. We need helicopters and the lottery and Michael Bay ‘splosions.

And Mint 3 Musketeers. (Fun fact: You can't misspell "Muskateers" without "Kate." Wow your friends this Halloween.) HAHA, you're old news York Peppermint Patties and Junior Mints and Chocoalte Altoids and mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Boy howdy will these blow your mind. I’ve had mint, I’ve had chocolate, I’ve even had them in combinations that have been pleasing to my palate. But never has anything rocked my world like these suckas. First of all, they’re bringing dark chocolate to the party – always a welcome treat. And there’s a detectable amount of salt to it. Sounds bad, but it’s awesome. Slightly salty, but awesome. And the mint! It’s softer than York Peppermint Patties, harder than Junior Mints and sweet and really great. (I know, I know, I should be a judge on Top Chef. People always say that.)

Apologies to anyone who wants these at my Halloween party this Saturday, because I'm going to eat the rest of them for dinner tonight.

Now how does this blogging endorsement thing work? CHECK PLEASE, 3 MUSKETEERS.

It’s time to kino escalate that shiznit, yo!

It’s September, which means I get to officially start thinking about Halloween. (More accurately, I can go public with the thinking about Halloween that’s been going on since July.)

Journey back with me to last year and you’ll recall I was Maternalina Jolie: Wax lips, head-to-toe black and – most importantly – dollar-store dolls with masks of her kids duct taped around my waist.

This year, I’ve got a couple of ideas knocking around.

1. The first, my favorite, requires two guys. I really want a set of people to go as Dateline To Catch a Predator’s Chris Hanson, a pedophile and a 15-year-old girl. I’m having a surprisingly hard time into talking any of my guy friends to go as a sexual predator, so this on is up for grabs.

2. That English rapper Lady Sovereign, because I rock a mad mean sidetail, yo.

3. In the same vein, I want to be Any Winehouse. I’ve got the brown wig and plenty of newspapers to make it a beehive. Eyeliner and fake blood are pretty much the only other ingredients. The only drawback is that because I don’t do any appetite-suppressing coke, I’d have to go as Fat Amy Winehouse.

4. My latest obsession though is going as Mystery from VH1’s The Pickup Artist. I’ve been glued all season, and near as I can figure out, it’s about the offspring of lead singer of Jamiroquai and Seth Green’s character from Can’t Hardly Wait who’s taken a heard of D&D playing basement-dwellers under his wing. He also sometimes wears a lipstick kiss tattoo. That is the new hotness!

It’s with the principle of “know thy enemy” that I was bombarded with terms like “neg,” (making fun of a woman to get her interested, ie when Brady said to the stripper he was trying to pick up, “Too bad there aren’t any cute girls working here tonight”), “higher value,” (which is basically a take back on what you just said. You can add “just kidding” and she’s a bitch if she can’t laugh with you) and of course “kino escalate” (which is apparently what us women-folk do when we’re touching our hair or something.)

Mystery hooked me early in the season (see how well his plan works?!?!) when they made over a geek who said the ladies thought he was gay and they remedied that by piercing his ears and painting his nails. They also play that song “Boston” with the line “No one knows my name” when a dude gets kicked off. Yes, it is awesome.