game on!

OK here we go. NaBloPoMo! (Thank you for organizing the month-long masochism, Mrs. Kennedy!)

To start cheap, I’ll begin by revealing to the ether my ONE good/pathetic Halloween costume idea, so that I can finally stop telling new friends about it every year and pretending I'd just thought of it.

(If you're a friend of mine, I can already hear the groaning, so save it, mofo!)

That would be "The Pervert". The idea is to take the classic "Flasher" costume (trench coat, mid-calf nylon dress socks, beat-up black leather Reeboks*, etc), and take it up a notch by adding hair on the palms.

Get it?

Get it?

Get it now?

Sigh. Yup, that's my big idea.

I suppose another visual cue might have been, say, a sack of dead kittens, but that joke is soooooo 2002.

I thought about adding to the costume by making "The Pervert" blind (you know, to keep with the theme of "if you keep touching yourself, then [insert hideous consequence here]", but being blind is inconsistent with the flasher/pervert’s M.O., which is to see people's reactions, and know that people see them, and then beat a fast retreat from the authorities with a dizzying adrenaline rush and turgid genitals.

On a sort of related note, when I went to UBC, I used to occasionally study for class at this clothing-optional beach (right off campus).

(Picture from Wikipedia. Thanks!)

It was usually deserted during the school year because it was just too cold outside to be naked, so it made for a beautiful and quiet place to hang out and go through my Classical Arabic verb declensions. (Don’t ask.) So I was down there studying with a friend one warmish day in spring when an average sort of fellow strolled past, wearing a jean jacket, sunglasses, a sunhat, and sneakers.

And nothing else.

So he walked by us, and that would have been fine – you know, cause for a few quiet snickers between girl friends – except he stopped about 50 meters down from where we were sitting, and started an activity that I guess you could euphemistically say made us want to go blind. Because he was wearing sunglasses, it was hard to tell if he was looking out to sea or at us (both sexily clad in bulky fleeces, baggy worker jeans, and hiking boots, how could he not have been intensely aroused).

Nothing came of it (HA! HA! haaaaaaaaaa), at least as far as we know, because we refused to look at him once we realized what he was up to – in fact pretended we’d not noticed at all. But I did lean across to my friend and whisper quietly: "He’s thinking about you."

*not sure why, but I’m pretty sure these are the #1 choice for pervs to shod their hooves with