Leftovers

When you live alone, it’s inevitable that food gets chucked out more often than you’d like. Sometimes it’s the fresh produce you can’t eat before it rots. Or the fact that a carton of milk is never finished so much as the last portion spoils and gets dumped down the sink. Or maybe after six days of carrot & mushroom loaf you simply can’t take anymore, you’ll go mental and there will be consequences.

If you are prone to experimentation, the misfits of the fridge* might get thrown together in a casserole. I tried to pull this off with the leftovers from fondue night, hoping to resuscitate a lovely meal. Trust me – you don’t want to experience what happens when $15 bucks worth of cheese goes to the dark side.

*Not unlike The Misfits of Science

Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good

For years I have noticed and complained heartily about the slutty Halloween costumes. To those who perpetuate it: where’s your self-respect? Even more important, where is your imagination? The media has finally picked up on this – er, situation. Yesterday there was a feature on the Today show about it, and Jane magazine had a recent article as well. Plus, last year on How I Met Your Mother it was acknowledged in a running joke that made me fluff up with a self-righteous finally! (Stop it. It’s a good show. Who can resist the charms of Neil Patrick Harris? Not this Frisky Biscuit!)

Halloween 2006 was no different. In Savannah, the sluts were out in full force. There were a few exceptions, my favorite being the girl dressed as Sweet Tea standing outside the Lady & Sons. She had two ginormous tea bags draped over her shoulders, sandwich board style, plus a halo. It took me a minute to figure out, and that is exactly the kind of costume I admire. Scary ones are fine too – it’s traditional after all. When someone is funny or clever, it rocks my shorts. Like the Joe Dirt wandering around, towing a red wagon that contained a meteor. Dude, you may not have been hot by current standards. But your creativity with that meteor and your confidence in owning that mullet was foxier than any of the French maids, slutty devils, or “slutty sluts”out there.

Mostly it’s women working the skimpy costume angle. There never seems to be anyone dressed in the male equivalent of a stripper. No Chippendale’s guys, loincloth boys, or lumberjacks (not that I fancy those types in particular; this is simply an example). Maybe men have trouble dreaming up hunky costume ideas. If you do want to go that route, my advice is this: Mr. Darcy in the wet shirt. Ladies will commence with the swooning.

It’s ridiculous to abuse the one day each year we can reject all that pressure to look perfect. Halloween is when we need to let go of vanity and show off our obsessions - for 80’s cartoons, or Sci-Fi movies, or musicians. You’ll still get attention, and this time it will be from people who recognize your awesome creative skills. That is a big improvement over the sloppy catcalls and easy leers from slow-thinking drunks. I’ve always thought a sense of humor was the most attractive quality a person could have.

Last year I wanted so bad to be a member of Team Zissou, but procrastination prevented the follow-through. And then last night on Broughton Street, I actually saw a group of three people dressed in Zissou gear. Not the Speedo, but the red caps and blue track suits were so on. A few years ago I came up with the idea of dressing Lady Buttercup as Slim Good Doggie, but I failed anatomy in college so it’s likely I won’t pull that one off either. I have a surplus of costume ideas (kept on a list, of course) and I’ll probably never get to be all of them. But I love knowing that none involve looking like rubbish. In Halloweens past, I’ve been a Ghostbuster, Hulk Hogan, and The Bowler from Mystery Men. But my favorite costume: a Fraggle. Take that.