The Year of the Blue M&M

My favorite/most horrific Halloween happened the same year.  It was 1995, the year of the blue M&M...

Most years I would dress up like a gypsy.  My mom would lend me her cuff bracelets, I'd put on one of her weird hippy skirts with an obnoxious clinking gold belt, and she'd paint super thick eye brows and a giant fake mole on my face with her eyeliner, because "all gypsies have moles."  

This year was different.  Mom was feeling crafty and decided to let me choose my own costume for her to make from scratch. I think she was also feeling a little sorry for me because we had just moved to a new school in rural Kentucky and I was a giant loser, literally and figuratively.  Lucky for her, my taste has always been simple, yet classic and innovative.  It was a no-brainer, I had to be the blue M&M.  She stuffed some fluffy cotton in between two circular fabric panels, sewed and fastened them together and put a giant white "M" on the front and back of each.  Basically, I was sandwiched in between two blue pillows (you can go ahead and add functional to my repertoire).   

So the month before Halloween, my 3rd grade teacher instates this contest where we all have to guess what costume she's going to wear.  Which is totally self-centered and nobody cares right?  Wrong.  We cared.  We cared as much as a 3rd grader cares about cooties and Billy Ray Cyrus and Pogs.  For 31 long days and nights, we toiled over what Ms. Hammond could be.  She was pretty plump and very sweet so I remember thinking she would for sure pick like a pumpkin or a beach ball.  I made some pretty solid guesses with the hopes that I would impress the pants off of my 3rd grade love interest, Brady.

October 31, 1995 rolls around and I'm feeling amazing.  I dress myself in my standard blue M&M undergarments like denim overalls and a white long sleeve shirt (I really wanted to let the costume do the talking) and head off to school.  Because she wants us to be semi-productive that morning, Ms. Hammond makes us wait until lunch time for The Great Costume Reveal.   We all retrieve our respective costumes and begin assembly.  Because mine is genius, I gently slip it over my head, probably don't even bother to calm my static electrified hair, and take my seat.  The suspense is too much.  Brady says something stupid and everybody laughs, I probably blush.  But then everything goes silent, the door to the bathroom opens and out steps Ms. Hammond...

In a f*cking orange M&M costume.

And just like that, the mole-ridden unibrowed gypsy made a comeback.

Dream Job

Back in 9th grade, I took one of those career tests to match my skills set with potential career options.  Some people were told they would make excellent accountants or lawyers and others were told they could be actors, models or comedians.

I got matched as a funeral home director.

And so began my search for an inspriring career!  Considering I write blog posts about my lady parts and exes who LARP (live action role play) for fun, you can tell I haven't gotten very far.  But it's something I've been thinking about and here are a few of the most enviable positions I can come up with:

1.  The parking lot attendant at the gym near my house.  His job is to navigate people through vacant parking spaces and when he's not doing that he has to stand in a 6x8 foot metal box and do God only knows what, but he seems a lot happier than Donald Trump.  I wave and chat him up every morning but little does he know, I'm out for his job.

2.  The person who changes the billboards and bus station signs.  They are basically superheroes in my mind.  It does not get more mysterious than this job.

3.  A candlestick maker.  Those actually exist, someone who makes candlesticks! I wanted to open a candle shop when I was little because I thought it would be bad ass to play with wax all day.  I was definitely on to something.

4.  A wedding DJ.  I've vocalized my interest in this one before but was reminded that "no one wants to hear Fleet Foxes through their entire wedding reception."

5.  A funeral home director.  You're around sad people a lot, true, but you're also around dead people a lot, which means you can pick your nose at work and no one will catch you.