Happy Halloween-tastic Puns

Halloween is this super weird holiday where for one day it’s okay to look like a total skank.  But people forget/are too drunk to remember that it’s also totally okay for everyone to still judge you for looking like a Slutty McSlutty. 

I mean, there really should be a minimum fabric requirement for some of these poor taste in judgments to count as an actual costume.  And putting the word “sexy” in front of any occupation does not translate into insta-costume either.

With all this said, something I relish come this delightfully tacky time of year is the Party City ads for costumes.   

 

Aside from pages after pages of polyester blend wardrobe dysfunctions, the names of the costumes are even worse.   Filled with gloriously bad puns, below are my favorites.

Author’s comment: Now, I secretly envy the person whose job was to name these plastic/spandex monsters.

 

Heidi Go Lightly

1. Audrey Hepburn would not approve. 

2. Germany would not approve. 

3. The skirt lights up.

Robyn Da Hood

Yep, it really replaced “the” with “da.” 

 

Genie May K Wish

The one costume where they actually added fabric to the original design inspiration. 

 

Ally Catraz

Who knew even historic military penitentiaries could be skank-i-fied?

  Wizard Wanda

Minus 100 points for Gryffindor! 

Don’t Touch My Cookie

Is nothing sacred anymore?!  Not even bringers of the Thin Mints and Caramel deLites.

  Nurse Ophelia Payne

*Facepalm*

Pocahottie   

Because the Native Americans haven’t suffered enough already.

  Babe-a-Lonian

Because nothing says ready for battle like cleavage and a cape.

  Maid Perfect

I guess the traditionally named “Sexy Maid” wasn’t subtle enough.

Putrid Prom Queen

Because "putrid" makes it sound so charming.

 

Lust in Space

It’s just so shiningly awful/awfully shiny.

  Crimes and Miss Demeanor

The name is just the start of many felonies committed by this ensemble.

  Officer Rita Dem Rites
Just say it out loud.
 

 

Icons & Idols

I didn't realize people who made a living by being abundantly worthless were considered idol-worthy.

Mother

Notice how the costume with the most fabric is also the cheapest one.

State of Nom: What’s an oven?

So here’s the deal.  I really don’t know how to cook.  No, really.  I once tried to be thoughtful and make a cake for my mom’s birthday, and it came out flat as a pancake.

I also lack motivation in waking up with enough time to not only eat any type of breakfast but also make my lunch for the day.  Hence, in the last five days, I’ve consumed 14 Pop-Tarts.  It would have been 16, but alas, one package was a casualty when I put it in my bag along with everything else that will contribute to my need for shoulder replacement surgery by the time I’m 30.

I also have an irrational fear of ovens.  But that’s for another time.

Anyway, so after being a grown-up and spending $157.40 of my own grown-up money on groceries at Wal-Mart, I had all the necessary supplies to make a grown-up meal.  It took some time as I’m still in the stage of I-not-only-need-to-buy-food-but-I-need-to-buy-things-like-pots-and-plastic-wrap.  Here’s a sample thought process when I shop: 

I want to cook chicken.  Hmm.  Okay, I’ll buy some chicken.  Well, I don’t want to get salmonella and risk not cooking it all the way so I’ll just bake it in the oven.  Yeah, that’s good.  But wait!  I need a baking pan.  Are all baking pans non-stick pans?  And then I need a container to hold my leftovers.  Is this one microwave and dishwasher safe?  But the recipe also requires flour, which I don’t have.  But I need a measuring cup to measure out the flour.  Halt!  I spy Flamin’ Hot Cheetos with Limon.  Okay, back to being a grown-up…salt!! 

To cut down on costs and save time, my dad said that I needed to prep and cook my meals for several days in advance.  Good plan minus the cooking skill deficiency part.  Enter: Wyoming Cookin’.

 My dad provided me with this cookbook from his bachelor days.    

I settled on the recipe “Wyoming Pioneer Days Oven Fried Chicken.”  While “Pheasant Pie” and “Roundup Braised Stuffed Calf’s Hearts” seemed tempting choices, Wal-Mart surprisingly does not carry pheasant or calves’ hearts.  Not even in Texas.

In addition to eating an unhealthily amount of Pop-Tarts, I drink a lot of Capri Sun.

The recipe calls for:

1 (3-lb.) broiler-fryer quartered*

½ cup flour

2 tsp. paprika

1 ½ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. pepper

¼(ish) cup margarine

*I don’t know what that means so I just bought a package of three boneless chicken breasts.

1. Preheat oven to 425°F.

My oven started to make a funny (potentially flammable?) smell.  So I took necessary precautions.

Note: I don’t actually know how to use a fire extinguisher, but perhaps the thought of using it will prove enough in case of an actual fire?

2. Mix flour, paprika, salt, pepper.    

   

Clearly, pouring flour is an evolved skill.

3. Coat chicken with seasoned flour.

 

Food tends to look super unappetizing before you cook it.

4. Melt margarine in pan.

5.  Arrange chicken on margarine coated pan.

6. Bake 30 minutes.  

6.b. Realize you did not buy oven mitts and struggle with dish towels and a wooden spoon to maneuver the baking pan out of the oven. 

6.c. Turn chicken and bake 20 minutes longer.  Repeat struggle of taking chicken out of the oven sans oven mitts. 

 

7. Cook rice.

Grown-up cooking will be done in baby steps.  Plus, I don't have a lid for the pot I would cook rice in.

8. Prepare salad.

 9. Feel accomplished that you finally completed cooking your first meal in your apartment at 11 p.m. on a Sunday night.

Finally, I had some support from some fellow friends on Facebook. :)