Oh, Halloween.  It’s one of those love it or hate it occasions.  I’m in the latter group.  I hate the endless candy, the color orange, the morning street full of smashed pumpkins, and the costumes.  Especially the costumes.  There.  I said it.  Costumes are the worst. They’re hard to make, there’s pressure to be so creative or cute or funny, and you (or maybe it’s just me) generally feel like a fool wearing them.  But if anything, they make for some great stories and pictures.  I asked a few friends about their best and worst costume experiences.

Happy Halloween!  Hope you survive the sugar high.

“One year I was Santa Claus. That worked pretty well.  But then the next year I couldn’t think of anything, so I just went as Mrs. Claus. People still thought I was Santa.”

“One year my dad made me a marionette.  He took a 2×4 and taped it to my spine.  Then he connected string to it and stuffed a glove  to look like a hand that held the strings.  It was awesome.  The worst part was that that year, my neighbors had a haunted house in their garage. To get in, you had to crawl under this tiny gap in the door, and I couldn’t fit, so I couldn’t go in.”

“Last year my dad was the Obamacare website.  He air was all frazzled and he had cobwebs all over him. There was a screenshot of the website and that rainbow spinning wheel.”

“I dressed as a gypsy one year, and everyone thought I was Cher.  So I guess that was my best.  It had this long black wig…  I also think for the first five years I was a leaf bag pumpkin.  You know the one.  It’s a bag that you fill with leaves and then you also get inside.  It’s very itchy, but it’s pretty damn cute.”

“One of my more creative ones was ‘America.’ It was a presidential election year, and I had two shoeboxes with the candidates’ names on them.  Then the people had to put candy in whichever box they would vote for.”

“I sketched this out and forced my mom to sew it for me. I was an American flag.  It was a sheet with a hold for my head and when I lifted my arms I was the flag.”

“I went as the headless horseman. My mom had this sheer sort of paisley shirt that I buttoned up over my head.  It was see through so I wasn’t blind.  Then I had a fake pumpkin that I held under my arm as my “head.” No one really knew what I was. One lady asked me if I was an Afghani woman.”


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