My favorite holiday is here! Halloween! Happy Haunting everyone!!!
So last night we had our debut Delaware party in the form of the first Annual Pfarr Halloween Bash by the Bay. Of course, despite the fact I haven’t a hint of a hangover (thanks, pregnancy!), it was a success. Even though I missed downing a spooky cocktail or two, at least I had my stash of Hershey’s Halloween candy to scarf down to keep me in the party mood.
Not to brag or anything, but I PERSONALLY know a man who used to develop Hershey’s candy. As in — the actual food chemistry behind the world-famous confections. Yeah, we’re tight. He’s my best friend’s mom’s step-dad, who we all affectionately know as “Doc Chocolate.” Basically, Doc Choc’s cooler than Bono. I mean, could Bono whip you up a from-scratch chocolate cake that would make even the Virgin Mary week for joy with his eyes closed? Um, I think not.
So on this high holy day of candy consumption, here’s to the Hershey’s Corporation and its food scientists! Without you, Halloween would just be a bunch of lame treats like apples with razor blades, pennies, and stale pretzel sticks.
Can you tell I've eaten about 200 "Fun Size" Hershey bars? I've blown up like a blimp and my eyes can barely open. Oh well, it's Halloween!
Like mother, like son. This one will keep Hershey in business for a long, long time.
After going back and forth about several ideas, Grey and I decided to be the Goodyear Blimp and a Goodyear mechanic/blimp handler for Halloween this year. I’ve never seen a human dressed as a blimp before and thought it seemed a little more original than my other ideas. I figured we needed to do something funny with my insanely huge pregnant belly, but I wanted a costume that didn’t involve painting my stomach like any sort of sports ball or fall vegetable.
Our cast-off alternatives to the Blimp couple were being a fallen angel (tarnished, broken halo, bent wings, blacked out tooth, etc.) and the Devil. I would have worn a sign that said, “The Devil made me do it.” Get it? Do it? Like, because I’m pregnant? Haha — I thought that was pretty funny. My other thought was to be a pregnant pause. But that costume seemed so boring (black leggings and a t-shirt with two vertical lines down it like the pause symbol). It would have been cheap and easy, but like I learned in college, just because something is cheap and easy doesn’t mean you should do it. And the last idea was to be a washed-up Playboy Bunny. I’d have ripped up my fishnets, teased my hair, smeared my lipstick, and obviously sported my big-ass belly front and center. Although for that one, I’d actually have to wear a limited amount of clothing, which I’m sure would be a little disturbing for me (and anyone who caught sight of me).
So today I finished up our costumes by swinging by the local Goodyear to see if they had any merchandise I could add to our attire. The mechanics were extremely nice and helpful in bringing to life my realistic embodiment of “The Blimp.” Can’t wait to get dressed up!
Why is it that Halloween, to some people, means dressing like a total skank?  Now, I have nothing against dressing like a skank, truly, I don’t. But in my humble opinion, Halloween is a time to be creative and funny — not just to wear one of the hundreds of slutty costume combos sold at the local Halloween Superstore.
Today Ollie and I went last minute costume shopping and I was thoroughly entertained by all the skank suits at Actor’s Attic. However, also a little dismayed. Every get-up for women there was the same formula only different colors: fish net thigh highs, headband ears of some sort, and a bustiere with flouncy skirt. A slutty bunny! A slutty nurse! A slutty eskimo! A slutty nun! A slutty Freddy Krueger! A slutty mime (possible? apparently)! There seemed to be no creativity in these outfits. How much more fun to act like a slut, but a slut dressed as Pope John Paul II? Or to have a one night stand, but decked out as masked luchador? Or a gigantic drumstick? No amount of fabric or opaque material can take away your inner whore, ladies. Remember that.
And if the girls’ costumes were formulaic, the guys’ costumes were too. The trend with men’s costumes seems to be some object, with a gigantic themed phallus attached to it in the crotch area. A Breathalyzer with a “blow me!’ hose! A fisherman with an enormous “catch of the day” on his pants! And my favorite, a petting zoo with a furry llama charging fully erect! At least the men’s costumes were funny, albeit in a semi-trite way. But back in my single days, I much rather would have made out with a man dressed as an authentic looking Mister T than with some dude with a sequined disco ball taped to his penis. But maybe that’s just me…
Happy Costume Hunting!
OK, this is actually really funny. In a weird, twisted way that makes me never want to take my children to another petting zoo again. Ever.
Ah, summer is over! Not officially, I know it’s not September 23rd yet, but for all intents and purposes. The kids are back at school, the tourists are gone, the weather is cooling off (well, sort of), and Funland is closing up shop! So SAD.
To enjoy the last hurrah of Summer’s Bounty, this past weekend while Kris and Craig were visiting, we took Ollie and their daughter, Emmeline, to Funland in Rehoboth Beach. The babies had a blast riding all the kiddie rides and getting jacked up on boardwalk delicacies like funnel cake and cotton candy while the four of us adults had enough people-watching to make a trip to Wal-Mart or the Circus seem boring. My only beef with the amusement park was that they didn’t let me go on the kiddie motorcycle ride with Ollie because, as an adult, I was “too big.” Nevermind they had a two ton ten-year-old denting the bikes with his giant ass right before I requested to ride (no joke this porker must have weighed in at 250), but I guess rules are rules.
So alas, now that it’s September, we’ll have to wait until next season to head back to Funland. And by that time, Ollie’s obsession with the Super “F*cks” will most likely have waned, or at the very least, he’ll be pronouncing the TR-sound in their name by then, which for some reason makes me sad to think about.
Though I love fall, it’s always hard to see summer go….
My favorite activity at Funland is the Super "F*cks" because it's the one ride adults can go on with their children. It brings out the inner trucker in me, which is surprisingly enjoyable. BYE BYE, SUMMER!
Yesterday, Grey, Ollie and I headed to the Baltimore Ravens Stadium for the Navy/Maryland football game. I must say, pregnant tailgating is a much different beast than the non-prego kind. Being with-child at a tailgate, I found myself facing a serious dilemma. To drink lots of liquid or not to drink lots of liquid??? I mean, I’m constantly thirsty (probably since I’m always so darn hot), but also have to pee every two seconds as little fetus feet are kicking me in the bladder. So, I’m left to decide whether to dehydrate myself on purpose to save my swollen sausage feet the long walk to the disgusting port-o-potty, or just drink up and deal with the trek.
However, with Cruzin Cooler, my problems are solved! If you haven’t seen them before, the Cruzin Coolers are iceboxes with wheels. It’s like a motorscooter that you can store a few cases of beer in. So yesterday at the game, perched atop Cruzin Cooler, I could not only keep beverages handy right under my ever-growing maternity booty, but also easily haul myself to the bathroom without having to walk. It’s the best invention since the lightbulb!
In fact, the highlight of my day at the tailgate was driving Grey’s friend Bubba’s cooler around the parking lot. A pregnant girl on a ridable ice chest is just so wrong it’s actually right. Although it did make me a bit uncomfortable having strangers taking my picture and videotaping me (I’m sure if you search “pregnant lady” and “cooler-bike” on YouTube you’ll now see some crazy strangers’ amateur video of me), I loved scooting around the parking lot waving to people as if I was a human float. Does it get better than that?
I considering using a cornhole game as a ramp to launch the Cruzin Cooler off Dukes of Hazzard-style, but then thought better of it.
**oops, I just noticed I used the wrong form of "sight" (but too lazy to change my card to Brach's!)
Despite the fact that it’s not even September, suddenly it seems like Halloween candy and spooky decorations are lining the aisles of every store I visit. Usually season hopping annoys me, but this year, since I’m so excited for a break from the heat (pregnant swamp ass continues), I gladly welcome the early signs of fall. However, I must admit, I feel totally behind the eight ball this year. I know it’s only the end of August, but usually, I start thinking about my Halloween costume on the previous year’s All Saint’s Day (that’s November 1 for all you non-Catholic heathens). In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I LOVE Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday. I love everything about the costumes and candy and fall leaves and pumpkin seeds and scary stories told by firelight; it’s all perfect.
But this year, I’m still at a loss for what to be. If my little baby turkey was debuting BEFORE October 31st, then it would be a no brainer — the entire family would dress as the Village People. But since Baby #2 won’t be popping out until November, I’m afraid Grey, Ollie, and I just wouldn’t be enough of a crowd to do the YMCA-singing 70s disco band justice. So what to be?
This year I’m feeling even more pressure because I’m pregnant. I’ve never been pregnant for Halloween before, and I feel like dressing for two has got me stressed! I could be the typical pregnant nun, but that seems trite and overdone, so I find myself surfing the Internet on the countless costume sites during bouts of insomnia for knocked-up costume ideas. Plus, I also feel like I want Ollie’s costume to be really good. He’s two, so I figure this may be the last year I can dress him in a costume of my choosing. By three, I figure he’ll be well on his way to demanding I let him be some cheesy character from the latest Disney movie. Barf.
Have any ideas? Send ‘em my way!
Painting my belly is NOT an option. I find this Halloween trend creepy as HELL!!!
I don’t even know where it came from. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t something I bought. But for some reason I own bondage tape. Now here’s the thing, I tend to use this bondage tape for craft projects. Did you hear me Martha Stewart? Bondage tape and craft projects are a marriage made in heaven! It works so well for stringing things up around the house because it’s super strong and while it sticks to itself, it doesn’t stick to anything else.
I imagine this non-stick factor is great for bondage, but it is also wonderful for stringing up wreaths at Christmas time. Extremely heavy juniper wreath got you down? Just look around for some bondage tape and your holiday is saved!
My particular role happens to be industrial sized. Not sure what this says about me, but it is. So I have learned to use the stuff like fishing wire, bonding together fragile items without gunking them up forever. It’s only a matter of time that you can buy the stuff at your local K-mart. They just might have to change the packaging.
I love the Fourth. It’s probably my favorite holiday — there’s just something so downright wholesome about it. First of all, I don’t feel guilty for not going to church — so immediately, this holiday begins better than some of the other biggies like Christmas or Easter. Plus, people do things like BBQ and have bike parades and eat hot dogs at the pool. It’s good clean fun — unless of course, you find yourself peeing your bed or barfing on your cute new red, white, and blue outfit — which I have certainly done on one or two past Independence Days.
Yet on this Fourth of July, I am sober as a Carmelite nun and realize as such, I’m much more prone to think about the deeper meaning of this wonderful holiday, rather than to just mindlessly enjoy watching people blow stuff up with a beer in hand. In fact, I thought it was appropriate to give thanks for all the quintessential American things that I love — among them the song American Pie — one of my all time favorites. It seems to be the perfect background music for a day where everything great about the United States is celebrated.
This weekend, Grey and I have tried to honor those good things by reveling in our Americanism. And though I couldn’t convince him to dress up in his old Navy duds (”Stacey, you know that’s illegal.” Booooooorrrrring!), Grey did agree to join Ollie and I in our town’s 4th of July parade as a family of tomatoes for the Farmer’s Market float. We figured nothing could show our patriotic side quite like pretending we’re a familial caprese salad while marching down the street with tuba players, tractors, and fire trucks. Tonight we’ll wait until the cloak of darkness falls and then light everything that’s even semi-flammable on fire and watch it explode. God Bless the USA!!!
Oh Don. Your ditty is one of the only songs (besides Snoop Dogg's Lodi Dodi) that I know all the lyrics to! Happy Fourth!
Ah, Memorial Day. Cookouts and flags and parades and in Washington, Rolling Thunder roaring their hogs down your street. Yup, it’s a bikers’ paradise in DC and I’ve had a grand old time observing the interesting fashion, a.k.a leather vests and eagle crests the size of dinosaurs, that go along with it.
But in my attempt to be more thankful this year, I try to actually think about what the holiday I am stuffing my face on actually means. And today while I attempt to make fried chicken, I also want to think about America’s fallen heroes and their families. I started Googling Memorial Day to learn a bit more about when it began (May 30, 1868), and I came across an article in the Washington Times about Barack Obama personally writing letters to the families of fallen troops.
As the article explained: “Ms. Merz [mother of fallen] said she was struck by the personal tone of Mr. Obama’s letter, which arrived before the official correspondence from Congress, and she wasn’t sure whether they were his words or those of a staffer. When told by The Times that Mr. Obama writes the letters himself, she said the words became more powerful. ‘It says to me that he, too, will be paying attention to more than just the numbers, but the real stories,’ Ms. Merz said.”
Obama also wrote letters as a US senator and would send families of Illinois service members a letter and a flag that had flown over the Capitol. While in office, President George W. Bush also sent personal letters to every family of the 4,000+ troops that died. 4,000 letters? Wow.
Maybe it’s because Stacey and I are now very emotionally attached to letter writing, but this was the most touching thing I read today. So here is to presidents past and present who understand the power of the pen and the sacrifice of the families of the fallen.
The power of the pen. According to the White House, copies of the letters are preserved for historical archives. Would one do that with an email? I think not. Nothing says personal like letter writing, especially for something as important as honoring our service members.
As I said in yesterday’s post, Grey’s roommate Matt from the Naval Academy came to visit with us for a few days this weekend. I can honestly say, due to us moving on Friday, the house has never been more disgusting for a house guest. Of course, of all visitors, Matt could have cared less. The fridge was stocked with Pabst Blue Ribbon (only the best for our guests!) and that seemed to be all he and Grey needed (besides a few rounds of golf) to keep them happy.
Matt certainly kept Ollie entranced by his charms. One morning at breakfast I overheard Matt telling him things like, “Unit, Core, God, County” and “Stop eyeballin’ me, boy!” Ollie was both scared and in awe of his Uncle Matt, which, oddly enough, was my first impression of him too.
Our dinner conversations were unlike any I’ve had in ages, including topics like the joys of a vasectomy and untimely boners. At night, while watching sporting event after sporting event on TV, the guys swapped sea stories and reminisced about their time at the Academy when neither of them had any regard for authority. As true girls’ girl, I felt privy to a world of man-talk the likes of which I’d only dreamed! Â We had a great time catching up!!
It was great seeing Grey's good buddy! Here are the two guys at Matt's wedding (where Grey was his best man). We can't wait to get down to HOT-lanta later this summer to visit Matt, his wife Laura, and their two kiddos!
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