Call me immature, but even at 28 years old, I still love Halloween. Maybe it’s the dramatic side of my personality or my love for classic horror B-movies, but the macabre holiday has always spoken to me on a very deep level. And according to the minivan-packed parking lot at Hokus Pokus, I’m not the only one who feels this way.

I started working on my costume a few weeks ago — yes, I’m one of those weirdos who thinks about their costume that far in advance. I narrowed my list down to Baby Jane Hudson or Courtney Love, circa 1992. I had a difficult time deciding which one to commit to until I realized that they’re basically the same person. All you need is a tangled blond wig, a white baby-doll dress, a bat-shit crazy temperament, a half-bottle of bourbon, and you’re ready to roll. Track marks optional, of course.

Still waffling, I walked into the costume shop to begin the search for the perfect wig when I was greeted with what I have officially christened “The Whore Wall” — racks filled top to bottom with questionably sexy disguises that practically invite a roofie slip.

I was tickled by the fact that for every occupation, there was a “sexy” costume counterpart. Inspecting the “Sexy Firefighter” get-up, I couldn’t help but think,”Yeah, right, it’s made of vinyl. Not only would it melt in the heat, it would totally ride up your craw when you try to slide down the pole. How impractical.” Next I came across “Sexy Crime Scene Investigator,” because I don’t know about you, but nothing gets me hotter than a freshly-dismembered corpse. I also stumbled upon the oxymoron “Sexy Viking.”

Right away, a line from the film Mean Girls popped into my head — “Halloween is the one night in the year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it.”

Oh, it’s funny ’cause it’s true.

Hell, I even expose a lot more tits and ass with my Halloween costume than usual. What is it about All Hallow’s Eve that makes us wear something we would never wear, act ways we would never act, and do things and/or people we would never do? Probably the fact that when we choose our costume and put on the mask, we’re not hiding ourselves. We’re actually exposing the real “us.” After all, Halloween is the time for people to either dress up as someone they wish they could be more like or someone they’re glad they’re not and wish to mock. But it’s also a time to let your inner sexual self run wild. Halloween night gives us a free pass to behave like total freaks and not have to worry about any regret on November 1. No wonder all the dry-humping-confused-with-dancing clubs downtown have such huge crowds on Halloween. It’s a veritable single person’s coming-out party.

As for my attire, I finally decided on a “sexy” Baby Jane Hudson, so if that is any indication of my inner sexual self, I can pretty much guarantee I won’t be getting any action on Oct. 31. Oh, well. I could always make a trip back to “The Whore Wall” and pick up a “Captain Hook-er” costume.

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