Halloween 2011: Even Sexier Than 2010

As always, the house party was a success.

Mood: Melancholic

The first week of November is always tainted by the post-Halloween blues for me.  The dismantling of decorative cobwebs, the discarding of rotted pumpkins and the dwindling supply of candy bars in our house are all a few of my least favorite things.

But I shall remember Halloween 2011 as a time of laughter. A time of gelatin libations. A flurry of face paint, powdered wigs and bronzer five shades too dark. It's not too soon to reminisce, is it?

Velvet doesn't think so. HALLOWEEN MEGA BLOGPOST TIME!

We started the Halloween festivities on Friday with a party at my friend Sammie's house.  Sammie runs her own fitness company, so we knew this party was going to be full of sexy fitness instructors in sexy costumes.  With us being more of sexy TV-watchers/cat owners, the pressure was on to look good.  REAL good.

So we sexed it up! I'm talking skintight long johns, bare shoulders with nary a pashmina in sight and powdered wigs with only one coat of baby powder.  We were like a small, well-mannered army of skanks.

Heather was a sexy zebra, Velvet was a sexy flapper and can you guess what I am?

No? 

...Maybe THIS will help.

Sexy George Washington, duh!  Now it all makes sense.

The party was a flurry of sexy dancing, sexy catered foods, sexy DJ's spinning house music and even a sexy pinata filled with candy.   Needless to say, we partook in all of these activities.

 

By which I mean we ate a lot of catered food and candy. A looooootttttt of candy.  You have to eat like ten (10) fun-size candy bars to equal one (1) normal candy bar, so whatever.  It wasn't weird.  

If you want guests who hoard their own candy stashes, we're your gals!

And in the most ironical highlight of the night, guess who won best female costume?

SEXY GEORGE WASHINGTON!  

I accepted my bottle of Moet & Chandon, the finest of all the effervescent ales, with a ten (10) minute inaugural address urging my fellow partygoers to improve our alliance with France and to explore the western lands.   Eric won the Best Male Costume prize with his (vintage) Tigger costume.  You can see him passed out on the couch here after doing too many push-ups (actually true.  I told you it was a fitness party).  Shortly after our wins, we said our farewells to prepare for Saturday.

Time for costume number two (2) and a festive gathering at our abode! 

Guaranteed the living room will still look exactly like this three (3) months from now.

Velvet and I were VERY excited for our costume this year.  It was one that we've been thinking about doing for years, and what with Occupy Wall Street and the upcoming elections, we knew it was time.

It required a lot of handiwork, of which Velvet did most and of which she did an amazing job.

Fun Fact: Our book was almost  mistakenly titled "Goulish Games," which would have actually been okay, since spelling errors are pretty de rigueur in Sweet Valley High.

Ready for the final product?

We FINALLY got to live our dreams and be Jessica and Elizabeth freakin' Wakefield for a night! And it was everything we ever dreamed it would be!

Not too bad, huh?  And yes, Velvet and I understand how good we look with platinum, sun-kissed blonde hair.  No need to comment upon it.

In my night as Jessica Wakefield, I made at least three (3) different grand entrances to the party, won twelve (12) contests, was asked out by every single male present and seductively purred one hundred and thirty-seven (137) times.   I also cheated on several boyfriends, destroyed a few people's reputations and betrayed my own twin sister numerous times.  Busy night!

And of course, the best part of this costume was the multitude of photo opportunities.  While Velvet and I definitely recreated some of the classic Sweet Valley High covers,  our guests helped us invent a few new stories that Francine Pascal strangely forgot to write. 

Title:  Smuggler's Secret

Tagline: After her brief stint as a drug mule goes awry, Jessica is forced to spend ten years in a Thai prison.   Will she win the title Queen of Lard Yao's Ward Nine or will her newfound rival Anchali upstage her?

Title: Primate Love

Tagline: Liz's summer internship at the Sweet Valley Zoo leads her to find love where she least expects it. Whose chocolate brown eyes will she choose--Todd's or Miko the Ape's?

Title: Tool Time Terror
Tagline: When Al Borland and Wilson come to Sweet Valley to undertake a little home improvement on the Wakefield's split-level Spanish-style house, disaster strikes. Will Elizabeth be able to repair the structural damage done to her beautiful home, or will she be forever doomed to live in a poorly grouted and sunken house?

Title:  Distressed Denim

Tagline:  Jessica has fallen hard for Brick, a Hell's Angel with a passion for arson. She'll do anything to grab his attention...even if it means murder.   After Jessica burns down Fowler Memorial Hospital, Elizabeth knows she must intervene. Will Elizabeth stand in the way of this fiery love match or will Jessica be caught in her own flames of hell?

Title: Brotherly Love

Tagline:  The twin's older brother, Steven, has flunked out of college and is back at Sweet Valley High with Jess and Liz.  Will the holy trifecta of Wakefield's rule the school or will Steven's elicit affair with Mr. Collins be the scandal that finally tears them apart?

All these titles and more coming soon to a bookstore dumpster near you!

After our guests had fulfilled their dreams of starring in their own Sweet Valley High novel, the party proceeded as most parties do.

People laughed.

People lurked.

 

(mostly just this guy.)

And people terrorized the cats.

  

The party ended around 4:30 a.m., with about five (5) people dancing in the living room to Sean Kingston's  "Shawty Fire Burnin' on the Dance Floor" (which, coincidentally, is a favorite song of both Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield's).

Like any good Halloween, we finished with a night of costumed dodgeball.

We may have lost both of our games, but boy, did we have spirit.  I also learned the valuable Halloween lesson that wearing a woolen coat and powdered wig to dodgeball will NOT contribute to your catches, dodges, self-esteem or ease of breathing.  You live and you learn.

And now I sit in our bat-filled living room and patiently wait until the next occasion when I can don a costume. American Thanksgiving, I'm looking at you. 

Mark my words, my cat will be wearing this costume, only sexier. 

(I hope you had a) HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE! 

My Adventure with The Onion

I'd like to interrupt your regular reading of Hobbit Heartache to tell you a tale.  It is a tale of a journey I am currently taking, a journey that most likely will not have a happy ending.  After embarking on this journey, well, I can certainly understand how the hobbits feel in their quest to Gondor or wherever the hell they're going.   Or how Jessica and Elizabeth felt when they went to Malibu to be au pairs for the summer.   Or how Bilbo felt when he went to the sexy Land of the Elves.  Or how the twins felt when they went to Paradise Spa and there was a murderous spa director and she...

Sorry.  I'll stop.

(You'll have to forgive me; my mind is kind of stuck in those two worlds as of late and will continue to be so probably until 2013.)  

Seriously, this is what the inside of my head looks like these days, but with less hobbit beer and more cat puke (Money is sick).

AHEM.  Back to my journey.   Well, it all began when I learned that the satirical newspaper The Onion was heading to Canada.  Writing for a paper like The Onion comes pretty close to my dream job, which involves starting up cereal-based letter writing campaigns, wearing costumes in public and petting dogs (I feel like craigslist is my best bet there).  I knew I couldn't waste this opportunity like I did with the Harry Potter job.   Or like when I sent my audition tape for America's Next Top Model: All Stars Season to the wrong Tyra Banks.  Or when Squash Ontario refused to sponsor me in the World's Largest Squash Casserole competition.   No, I really had to nail this.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

Time for a barrage of letters displaying my multifaceted personality and unwavering-to-the-point-of-fear-provoking persistence!

Note: It's a fine, fine line  between "you're hired" and "our legal counsel has issued a cease and desist." 

Like any hopeful applicant, I began by doing a little research.  I closely examined The Onion's policy on receiving resumes.  It is as follows:  "Please do not send/e-mail resumes concerning listed positions unless specifically told to do so in the listing. Any unsolicited resumes will be immediately discarded."

Well. That seems open to interpretation.

They did not discuss their policy for sending resumes for unlisted positions.  Nor did it discuss their policy on receiving acceptance letters.

And thus, the adventure begins:

A month goes by.  I hear nothing from The Onion, not even from Matt at the office.  I start to fret a little bit, because, you know, I'd asked some important questions that needed answers. Time was of the essence, which is why I had marked the envelope as "URGENT" two  (2) times.  I wanted to shop for my new uniform clothes while the summer dickey sales were still going strong. I also wanted to print a few mock business cards to distribute before the official ones were made because you know I'm all about networking.

The zebra one is perfect for "Casual Friday," right?  That's what I was thinking, too. Now, if only The Onion would write me back so I could figure out how many I'd need for my new job.   I took a guess and bought six (6).

I kept my head up and continued to maintain my extensive exercise regime. In the midst of a squat series which involved the use of both wooden planks and steel buckets of boiling water, the answer hit me: of COURSE they hadn't replied!  I forgot to send them my references! A rookie mistake, one that I really should have known better.   But one that can be easily fixed.

The adventure continues.  And since all of my previous references have politely asked me not to contact them again, I had to go a different route.

I also remembered to include my resume and "Books Read in 2009" list this time.  I wanted to make sure that they knew I could write articles about all kinds of things, like senior cats and kids that live in boxcars and also monsters (both in mythology and real life).

I also of course included my headshot.  It's a bit outdated but I think it still accurately conveys my intensity for The Onion.

(I have new headshots that feature both my roommates and my cat Money but getting rid of the red eye has taken longer than expected.  Fingers crossed for January 2012!)

Possibly 2013.

I sit and I wait for another month, checking my mailbox daily with growing frustration.  I try to stay positive but I can't deny that my exercise regime is slipping.  I'm down to lifting five (5) gallon buckets of water instead of ten (10).  My dickeys are gathering dust in my closet, my fanfiction work is taking a turn for the morbid, and yeah, my hygiene is suffering as well.  I've been down this road before with previous letter writing campaigns (Francine Pascal, I'm looking at you right now), and it's neither healthy nor good for me.

My deepening depression luckily did not affect our evening spinning classes. 3x a week will do wonders!

To make matters even worse, The Onion prints their first Toronto edition, and sure enough, my articles have not made the front page.  In fact, they're not printed at all.  I am filled with shame.

(Is two (2) gifs per post pushing the limits?  I'm still testing the waters here.)

I reach out my vulnerable and increasingly untoned arms once again.

... And still, nothing.  NOTHING.  Not even from Joan after I included the first six (6) chapters of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction especially for her. I'd like to blame it on the postal system, but as I just received a new SVH shipment from Amazon, (Wakefield Legacy: The Untold Story, I warmly welcome you into my life), I know it just can't be.

For when you're in the mood for an epic.

But those who know me know that I do not relent easily.  I'm in the midst of a 5,600 word article debating the merits of gray cats over orange ones so I can prove to The Onion that I can be topical as well as informative.   And after that, I'm mailing them a collage comprised of both dried and moist onion skins (mostly red, but also yellow and white onion skins for accent) to show my versatility. 

It will be five (5) feet tall and bring tears to the eyes of all who gaze upon it.

(If you have any extra onion skins you'd like to contribute, feel free to drop them off at my house anytime, night or day (preferably dawn).  My roommate Heather is in charge of the collection, so you can just slide them right under her door or throw them at her window. I will need at least 300.)

Are my letters/handmade projects/half-finished novels most likely being thrown immediately into the garbage, you ask? Oh, almost certainly.  Is that going to stop me?  Well, probably, yeah.  Eventually. I got erotic fanfictions to write! But there is a part of me that really hopes something comes of this, even if it's just a standard rejection letter from a truly awesome newspaper.  I really don't want to have to toss my five hundred (500) new Onion business cards. I'm still getting through my Samantha Clark: ANTM All Star ones.  

It's sad because I was fairly certain we would hit it off.

You can bet your bippy I'll be keeping you updated of any progress with this adventure, and I gladly welcome any advice or encouragement.   But for now, it's back to Middle-earth with me, where I shall emerge only briefly to create my Halloween costumes.  Does anyone have thirty (30) cats I can borrow?  (Feral preferred.)

Hobbit Heartache: Chapter 3

(Guess who's learning Photoshop?!)

Imma stop you before you dive right into Chapter Three (3) of Hobbit Heartache, the Sweet Valley High/Lord of the Rings erotic crossover fanfiction.  And I'm going to warn you:  this chapter gets real.

You're right to feel like this.

Yeah, I know that in Chapter One, things were all fine and dandy and the Sweet Valley gang was flying to Middle-earth, and maybe even some people were getting a little frisky in the plane bathroom and Winston was all gangly and awkward because he has big feet and the twins had a shared dream and those are always fun and we were all excited to start Sweet Valley High's 427th's Spring Break. 

These two had fun in Chapter One.

And I also know that in Chapter Two, the hobbits were all feasting and dancing in the Shire and sure, maybe Frodo was a little sad but then Bilbo came home and he had crazy news and they're about to go on a huge adventure and also sure, maybe Samwise drank a bit too much brandywine and passed out, but who hasn't been there? 

Frodo had a bit of fun in Chapter Two.

Here's the thing: NO ONE HAS FUN IN CHAPTER THREE.  And that's because things take a turn for the terrifying.  If I've learned anything from my years of reading SVH, it's that when you leave Sweet Valley, bad things happen.  Very bad things.  And also that I should just give up on life because my hair is not a sun-streaked gilded blonde, but alas, a mousy brunette.  But persist I shall, if only to bring you the third chapter of Hobbit Heartache. So I really hope you enjoy it.

Enough talk; let's land this plane in Middle-earth!

Artwork by the explosive Zak Tatham

Chapter Three

Elizabeth gazed out the bus window, taking in Middle-earth’s lush green scenery. How beautiful, she thought, almost like Sweet Valley’s country club. The club was the most breathtaking place she knew, and the site of many Wakefield family celebrations. Elizabeth sighed, feeling the first pangs of homesickness for her family back home and their elegantly decorated split-level Spanish-style house. The group had only been in Middle-earth for a few hours, but already it had been a rough trip.

Upon landing in the JFK Middle-earth Airport, the students had been led by Mr. Jaworski to the luggage area to collect their bags. But instead of seeing a colorful merry-go-round of luggage, they had been greeted by an empty terminal, with cobwebs and dust covering the luggage carousel. When they tried to find an airport employee to help them, the students only found a short child sitting behind the customer service counter. When the worker caught sight of the group, he scurried off as fast as he could without saying so much as a word. And Winston swore up and down that the worker wasn’t even wearing shoes!

Thanksgiving Part I

Happy Thanksgiving to all of my Canadian friends!

Since I don't have any family here in Canada, I usually celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving by watching TV marathons and then eating the leftovers my roommates bring home.   This year there was a 3rd Rock from the Sun marathon.   Doesn't get much better than that...

...except maybe having a real Thanksgiving and being with family and bringing on the YAMS and all that stuff, maybe.  But not by much.

This year I mixed it up a bit and made Velvet take a walk and admire the fall leaves with me. 

Did I mention that it's my favorite time of year?

Oh yeah, Velvet says happy Thanksgiving, too.

The only way this holiday could have been better is if our cats would just finally learn to walk on leashes already.  It's been three (3) years now; COME ON!

I hope you all had Thanksgiving feasts aplenty and that your cats have the ability to walk on leashes.

This cat ain't walking nowhere.

PS--I'd like to congratulate my dear friend Wes and his lovely bride, Rachel, on their beautiful Tennessee wedding this past Saturday.  I'm so glad I could be there with you two, and enjoy the Canadian chocolate bars.  They shall count as my wedding present.

PPS--Thank you Heather for the leftovers.