Making Sexy Costumes and Costumes Sexy

Every Halloween, a woman is faced with a difficult decision. Does she go for the funny, topical costume (i.e., binders full of a woman, an unimpressed McKayla Maroney, a Hillary Clinton meme)? Or does she go for sexy? I usually choose an un-sexy costume only because I feel like I'm trying too hard every time I don fishnets. Did you ever really think about the sexy costumes out there and what makes them sexy? Some of them aren't based on anything remotely sexy. Who was the first person to think if I cut the midriff out of a police uniform and wear short shorts, I could be a sexy police officer. Really the only recipe for a sexy costume is to add a teaspoon of clothing, a pair of thigh highs and mix well. I'm sure most sexy costume ideas are based on the typical male fantasy. However, when you really think about fantasies and realities, they almost never resemble each other. Anyway, here is my list of sexy costumes that really shouldn't be sexy:

1.) Prostitute- The lazy sexy costume. For some reason, when a girl thinks of a sexy costume, she automatically thinks hooker. It's true that out of all the professions hookers wear the least clothing. But, for a sex-based career choice, the prostitute is not very sexy. The first thing that I think about is venereal disease. That's not sexy...unless you're Joey Tribbiani.

2.) Bunnies- Why did Playboy choose a bunny as their icon? Yes, the tails are cute...ears, not so much. But, bunnies, if you think about it are like squirrels. They're little rodent-like annoying pests that ruin your garden. They suffer from fly strike. FLY STRIKE. This means that actual flies lay actual eggs on bunnies that become actual crawling maggots. This is our idea of sexy?

3.) Nurse- Now, I know many sexy nurses, but what they do at work...not so sexy. Do you know what a sponge bath is cleaning off? Poop...mostly poop.

4.) Maids- Along the same vein, a maid does not have a sexy job. I do know that, like nurses, the reason a maid costume became hot is because of the fantasy that there's a woman in a short skirt taking care of you and doing your bidding. Guys like that idea. But, when is the last time that you saw a maid in anything but a polyester shift or mom jeans and a Champion sweatshirt?

5.) Bees- What is sexy about an insect that carries flower sperm, buzzes around your head, and stabs you? Plus, I can't see a bee costume without conjuring up this sad image from the Blind Melon video.

So, while I might sound cranky about these so-called sexy costumes, I do love Halloween, and I'm glad that it exists because it's fun to watch people dress up. I just think that women are inherently sexy. It doesn't take much to turn a man on...really. So, don't overdo it. Try being a librarian or a baseball player. I've heard it through the male-vine that the sexiest thing about a woman is when she doesn't know that she's sexy. Am I right, One Direction?

The Jerky Murse

There are two things that you need to know about me before I tell this story. One, I love the Red Sox. While I’m doing my best to pretend that the 2012 season never existed and hoping that it will be swept under the diamond green, I still love the Red Sox. Two, I went to law school and it comes in handy.

In the summer of 2008, I had two tickets to an afternoon game at Fenway Park. I was having difficulty finding someone to come with me for some reason. It might have been because it was a weekday game. It might have been because I waited too long to ask someone to go. Whatever the reason, with the game a few days away and still no one to go with, I decided to sell the tickets on Craigslist. I was really disappointed that I would miss my guys, but I had a couple of other games to go to that summer, so I figured I could afford to miss one.

I placed an ad on Craigslist that I was selling the tickets at face value. The first guy to respond ended his email with “It’s supposed to be such a great day! I’m surprised that you’re giving them up!” I responded to him by saying, “Aw, I wanted to go, but no one can make it.” That started a conversation that ended with him saying, “Well, I don’t know who to ask. If you want, we can go to the game together?” and sending me a picture of himself. He was very cute. He was a male nurse. And he was a Sox fan. I agreed that we should make it a date.

We texted back and forth a few times leading up to game day. The Murse was funny and charming, but something seemed off. My “a-hole-o-meter” was reading a bit higher than normal.

We had made plans to meet at the Cask and Flagon before the game at 11:30. The game started at one. At 11:30 on the dot, I stood in front of the bar, waiting for him. When 11:45 came and he hadn’t shown up, I called and left a voice mail message asking where he was. At 12:00, I called again and said, “Look, if you’re going to stand me up, just let me know so that I can try to sell the tickets to a scalper before it’s too late.” At 12:45, I realized that he wasn’t coming. I didn’t quite know what to do. I was excited to go to the game, but I didn’t want to sit by myself.

Well, sometimes fate smiles on me and the universe gives me what I ask for. Right at that moment, I received a text from Sally that said, “You’re not at Fenway today, are you?” It turns out that Sally had gotten standing room only tickets at the last minute. And I had an extra seat. So, Sally came to sit with me and we enjoyed the game together!

I wasn’t going to let the Murse get off that easy though. The typical lawyer response when someone gets screwed is to send a demand letter. When I got home, I sent the Murse this:

As I mentioned in my voicemail, I offered you a
ticket. You accepted in writing. As such, we have a contract.
You have breached it by not performing your obligation. The
face value of the ticket is $50.00. Please pay check
or money order to:

Melly J.

[Address]

Please pay by July 31, 2008 to avoid litigation. Be advised that if we
go to small claims court, I will pursue every legal
remedy available, including court costs. Also, I will
notify Craigslist and provide your personal
information and inform them that you have reneged on
past contracts, which will likely make it difficult for you
to make purchases in the future.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Melly J., Esq.

And a few days later, (after some nasty voicemail messages left for me on my cell) the Murse sent me a check for $50.00. Let this be a lesson to you, readers. Whenever somebody stands you up, send them a threatening letter and shake them for cash.

Online Dating 101

I received a barking text from Crazy Pete yesterday that just said “More blog posts!!” So, without further ado…

I’ve been an observer and participant in the online dating world for a while now. I’m always surprised at certain things that people put in their profile that they believe will attract a mate. I alluded to it a bit here when I talked about shirtless pictures self-taken in bathroom mirrors and starting out your profile with “I can’t believe that I’m online dating”, but I wanted to add a bit more as I consider myself quite knowledgeable in this field.  [Note: This will be all about men for the simple reason that I don’t see a lot of women’s online dating profiles. I know from what I’ve picked up from the guys that women should not make “duckfaces” or post pictures from 1999. But, that’s where my knowledge on the subject ends.]

WHAT NOT TO PUT ON YOUR ONLINE DATING PROFILE:

1.)    Only Webcam photos. I’ve seen a couple of profiles where the guy has two or three pictures. And they’re all taken in front of his computer by his webcam. Sometimes he varies them by putting on a different sweatshirt, or smiling in one but giving a “come hither” look in the other. Guys, as women, we can tell that they’re webcam photos and were probably taken on the same day. It leads us to one of two conclusions that are not necessarily mutually exclusive:  A) this is a temporary profile that you just put up to talk to some women because you’re lonely or married or both, but you don’t have any intention of actually following through with an actual date or B) you’ve never been outside.

2.)    Incoherent sentences. I actually saw this the other day: “drp me a line if you be prety well hav fun”. What woman in her right mind would respond to this?  I’ve been nosing around enough on the internet to realize that people have a serious problem figuring out the difference between “your” and “you’re”. I can accept that. But, this is just lazy. Do you even TRY to speak English?

3.)    “I’d like to find someone who is accepting of the fact that I have a primary partner”.  This one, I actually think SHOULD go in your profile because it’s honest. But, I added it to this list because it’s the only entry on my list regarding why you shouldn’t have an online dating profile.

4.)    Pictures of you wearing a watermelon rind like a helmet. I won’t post it on the blog because I want to respect his privacy. But, believe me when I say, there is a profile on match.com where this picture exists, and it is his primary photo.

5.)    This. I copied this one word for word (spelling errors included) because my paraphrasing won’t do it justice: “Hi there. I'm looking for a beatiful sexy girl who isn't snobby or bitchy like my ex. I understand that all women will get that way sometime but not all time, ok? If you are a carring person who wants a loving, passionate lover, than I'm the guy for you. I'd love to go out to a Japanese restaurant with you. I shouldn't even be single right now, I've just been busy with work and I don't enjoy shopping at the bar. If you love Barrack, don't bother contacting me, otherwise I look forward to meeting you. Bye.” My favorite part of this is the random throw in of “going to a Japanese restaurant”. What was the thought process behind that? Hmmm, I’ve been talking a lot about myself and sex, I should add in something about what I’ll do for her. What do women like to do? They seem to like sushi.

My advice for what you should put in your online dating profile: Just be funny, sincere and yourself. If we end up dating some day, realize that we’ll have to meet in person. And I’ll know right away that you’re not really 35 years old or 6’2. The first time I go to your house, give me some credit. It’s quite easy to see if you live with your parents and not alone in a four-bedroom house as you originally said. Don’t start the relationship off with a lie. I would much rather go out with YOU, and not the person that you’ve built yourself up to be, and I'm sure most women agree.


UPDATE:

I received this message in my inbox after I posted this and had to share:

I really enjoyed your latest blog.  It got me to thinking about what mine would like if I was completely truthful and would anyone respond.

“Hi there.  I’ve been married for 27 years and my wife is my best friend and audience.   I’m just shy of 55, but I act like I’m 25.  In my mind I think most people think I’m a lot younger than I really am, but it’s probably due to my behavior more than my looks.  I’m a registered Republican and a recent online survey put me to the right of the Tea Party but I recycle, make my own compost and have a large garden.  I’m pro-choice and in fact I’m in favor of more women having more abortions given the number of losers having children they can’t afford and don’t know how to raise.  I’m a member of the NRA but I only own two revolvers and a shotgun.  I  rarely go shooting.  I subscribe to three magazines: National Geographic, American Rifleman and Organic Gardening.  I read the NY Times and the Boston Globe daily because I think it’s important to understand what the other side is thinking.  Occasionally I write comments to the newspapers under the pseudonym Divya Mush.  You’ll need to meet me in person to understand what’s behind that moniker.  I dislike crowds not because of agoraphobia but because I have low tolerance for ignorant fools who don’t follow the rules of good behavior.  I’m also a little paranoid, but not in a right wing terrorist way.  Some people think I look like a cop or ex-military.  I’m not a “joiner” or a good team player so the military would not be a good fit for me.  I’m also not very good at taking orders from a-holes getting up in my face.  As far as the police are concerned I’m not a fan.  I know too many jerk offs from high school who are cops.  I didn’t respect them then and I sure as hell don’t respect them now.  I prefer the company of women,  but not because I want to get laid, I just find them more interesting.  Good looks are a plus but not a deal breaker.  The real litmus test is brains.  If you have them you’re on my short list. At this stage in my life youth has its own cachet.  If you are anything like me I’m probably not interested.  I wouldn’t want to hang out with me, but then again you’re not me.  Finally, I’m really good at holding grudges.  If you screw me you’re done.  I’d rather not speak to someone ever again than to sit through an apology.  Your f-ck up will always be in the back of my mind and that can be hard on a relationship.”

Think this would get any responses? 

A night at PA's

For those of you who have never been to PA's Lounge in Union Square in Somerville, let me tell you that if there ever were a nexus of two universes colliding, it would be PA’s. It’s a small venue with a stage on one side. It used to consist of two rooms. One, the bar, where all the townies hung out, drinking their PBR and Bud Light, and watching the History Channel. Two, the music hall which resembled the basement of a JCC, where the indie/alt rockers would hang out, also drinking PBR and Bud Light, and listening to loud, loud music.

At some point, in the recent past, the genius owners at PA’s thought that it would be a good idea to take the wall down that separated the two rooms. There is no longer a wall between them, meaning now the townies and the rockers mingle amongst each other. It’s madness. Musicians being heckled by townies who can’t hear Pawn Stars over the music.

My first experience since the wall came down at PA’s was on Saturday night. I went to see two of my friends’ bands play, Sinnet and J/Q. Both good, and you should check them out sometime. But, what I want to discuss is what happened before the show.

A mix up with the times resulted in my arriving early (already awkward in itself as I've mentioned before). I decided to order a drink and hang out at the bar. I had made the mistake of wearing heels, meaning when I walked in and across the floor, all eyes were on me. The clientele consisted of 8 or 9 men who had clearly been drinking the day away, and one woman who seemed perturbed that competition had just walked through the door. I tried to tell her not to worry with my eyes.

As I walked up to the bar, a man who was probably in his 40’s but looked much older, said to me, “Hi there! Are you staying??” I didn’t really understand the question. So, I said, “I think so.” And he said, “I’m Juno” and shook my hand. I told him my name. Then, he asked, “Do you sing any SHA-day?” I looked at him blankly. He said, “You know…[singing] Smooooooth Operator”. Again, I didn’t understand the question, so I smiled and walked to the other side of the bar. (I found myself humming Sade many times on Sunday and cursed Juno every time.)

I sat down next to this guy who looked harmless enough. He was even kind of cute, probably in his early 30’s. He glanced up from his texting and looked at me as I sat down. After a few minutes, he turned to me, and said, “Excuse me, I’m a horrible speller. Do you know how to spell ‘tongue’?”

I was a little weirded out by the fact that I was helping him sext, but when he started spelling it “tou…”, I couldn’t help myself. Those of you who know me personally know that I have an incessant need to be right…ALL the time. “T-O-N-G-U-E”, I told him. He typed it in and looked at it for a moment. “That can’t be right,” he said.

“Trust me, it’s right,” I said. (There’s that incessant need again.) I continued, “I was a champion speller in elementary school. I won both fourth and sixth grade.”

“They have spelling competitions?”

“Yes”, I responded, “they’re called spelling bees.”

He sized me up for a moment and said, “Spell ecclesiastic.”

“E-C-C-L-E-S-I-A-S-T-I-C”

“I’m guessing that’s right,” he said. “Spell onomatopoeia.”

He had to ask me to spell onomatopoeia. That is the one word that, for some reason, I can NEVER remember how to spell. As I was writing this, I needed spell check. And after spelling it wrong a second time, I copied it, so I can just paste it in from here on out.

“I can’t spell onomatopoeia. I never could.”

He looked at me, triumphantly. (Here comes the need again…) “Do you know what onomatopoeia means?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s when a word is spelled like the sound it makes. Like ‘oink’”.

Who was this guy??? He didn’t know how to spell tongue, yet he knew what onomatopoeia meant? I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Apparently, the feeling was mutual, because the next words out of his mouth were, “WHY are you here??”

“I’m here to see my friends’ bands play,” I told him.

“Oh, there are bands here tonight?” And, without another word, he got up and walked out the door.

So, yes, for the rest of the night, I pretended that the PA’s wall was still up, and I stayed on my side, the rocker’s side. Today, I’m echoing the plea of indie rockers everywhere, “Mr. PA’s Lounge Owner, close this gate! Mr. PA’s Lounge Owner, Put Up This Wall!”

The Whirlwind Romance of Mr. 27 and Melly J.

Mr. 27, whom, as you may remember, I met on okcupid, and I had a beautiful six-day relationship that started last Thursday and ended Wednesday. We had made plans for Sunday to watch football and hang out. But, that day (Thursday), we were so excited to meet each other that we decided to grab a drink in Central Square, before his other plans later that night. [Note: I'm pretty sure that his other plans were another date, but I'm a modern woman, so I was ok with this.]

Thursday was a nice time. We met at Tavern in the Square. While he is very handsome, I wasn't sure about our connection. He rides the pedicab to pay the bills, but what he really wants to do is music. I respect his passion for it, but I've since come across some of his lyrics during a routine facebook stalk, and...I'm not sure that they make sense. I couldn't stop focusing on the fact that I was drinking a pint of IPA and he was drinking a whiskey sour through a straw. He wears a fedora...a lot. He has a tattoo on his neck that means "face". He received a lot of texts during our date. I couldn't help but notice that a girl's picture popped up every time and I couldn't help but think it's because he has trouble keeping us straight. But, as I said before, he's really hot.

On Friday night, he came over to my place to hang out, and this is where it all went wrong. We were snuggling. I began to fall asleep in his arms. He began to fall asleep. And then...I sleep-tooted. Look! It happens! Women have bodily functions, I'm sorry. Sometimes we eat too much cheese and we're gassy. It's just the way it is. However, I was mortified! I darted up and looked over at him quickly to see if he had heard it. I couldn't tell. His breathing was heavy, but he could have been faking. I obsessed about it the entire night. Did he hear? Was he totally grossed out by me? Then, to make matters worse, before he left my place, he went to use the bathroom, and came back looking sort of green. After he left, I went into my bathroom and saw why. My vindictive cat, mad at me for daring to bring someone into our personal space, had left a turd on the floor.

Needless to say, I didn't think that I'd hear from Mr. 27 again. And when he cancelled on me on Sunday, I was sure that we were done. Imagine my surprise when I got a text from him last night. Now that I had a couple of days to think about what had happened, I saw the humor in it. I thought that laughing it off was probably a good way to make it less awkward. So, I brought it up. I misjudged Mr. 27's sense of humor. He didn't think it was as funny as I did and let me know. And I haven't heard from him since. But, it's a consolation that maybe he'll write an awful song about us someday.

It's all right, cuz I'm Saved By the Bell: Part 2

I left off with my parents wearing down Mr. Headset enough that he reluctantly agreed to get one of the more important Headsets. By this point, a crowd of people had formed around us, probably thinking that we were much more interesting than a taping of Saved By the Bell.

After waiting for a few minutes, the more important Headset approached us. Mr. Important Headset was much more sympathetic and apologetic than the first. Maybe he had been given a heads up by the first Headset that playing hardball with my parents was not a successful tactic and they decided that it was time to play a little "good headset wearer, bad headset wearer." He started by saying he understood our frustration, and that horrible guy back at the Chinese Theater did not work for the show directly, but worked for an independent company that they hired and that he made money based on how many people he got to the studio. He soothed the wild parental two-headed beast, and my parents began to speak at a normal decibel level again.

Important Sympathetic Headset offered to take me into the studio for a little while, and my parents and sisters could wait in a green room for me. Without even thinking that my family probably wanted to sit in a room with no windows almost as much as they wanted to sit on a smelly bus, I gave my parents the sad-eyed look that had been working for me all day long. With a little bit of hesitation, they agreed.

I was in! ISH brought me into the studio and I was standing in the same room as Zack Morris! ISH left me with Indifferent Clipboard Lady and went back to take care of my family. Indifferent Clipboard Lady told me that I could stand next to her at the camera. It was a little bit surreal seeing the television set in person. I was looking at a classroom, and to the left of where I was standing, I could see a little bit of another classroom. Beyond that wall, I'm assuming was Mr. Belding's office, and while I couldn't see around the classroom wall, I could see what happened there on a little screen next to me.

Tiffani Theissen and Screech were sitting in the classroom. Mario Lopez was standing off to the side. When he saw me, he came over and said, "hi there, I'm Mario." And I politely said, "Nice to meet you", while thinking, "Yeah, that's great, Mario. Where's Mark-Paul?" They were filming the episode where the students and teachers switch places. Zack became the principal and was sitting at Mr. Belding's desk. I could only see him on the little screen, but it was amazing...the only thing standing between Zack Morris and me was a fake cardboard wall! I had made it.

After a half-hour or so, ISH came back to get me to bring me to my parents. He handed me a packet of paper and said, "I was able to scrounge this up for you." It was Mark-Paul Gosselaar's copy of the script...complete with his coffee (I hope) stains on the cover. My sisters and I also got autographed pictures of the cast. And Stacy and Lori didn't mind that they didn't get to go into the studio because they had seen and talked to Jessica Spano in the bathroom.

ISH still felt bad about what had happened, so he told my family that he had arranged for us to go to a taping of Blossom that night. Blossom was a lot less strict about age-limits. After Blossom, as we headed back the hotel, my parents asked me what I thought of our day in LA, and whether I was sad that I didn't get to meet Zack Morris in person. To which I replied, "Zack Morris who? I'm in love with Joey Lawrence!!! whoa."