New Moon Movie Review

Last year I had many of my female readers all atwitter when I recommended they run, not walk, to pick up copies of the Twilight saga. We were all transported back to our teenage days when the thought of a mysterious, dangerous, and handsome boy in school would send us swooning. And though some people dismiss the Twilight books as literary fluff, I give major kudos to Stephenie Meyer. As a writer mom, I know how hard it is to find the time to sit down and finish something and it was a pretty good idea to boot.

Before going to see a movie based on a series of books, I’ll usually re-read the books to refresh my memory. Between school, the kids, and working part-time, I didn’t have the time to read New Moon again before opening night. This turned out to be a good thing. There were tidbits I’d forgotten and it made the story fresh to me.

I remember reading one of the opening scenes of New Moon while Donny drove and Kali sat in the backseat. I closed the book to tell them about the part where Bella got a paper cut at the birthday party. Twilight the movie wasn’t out yet and Kali asked if I thought New Moon would be a movie as well.  We both agreed that it would be pretty cool to see such a scene play out on the big screen.

But what should have been terrifying – a simple paper cut sets off a chain of events that finds a human girl nursing a bleeding arm in a room full of vampires – was actually comical. I blame two things. One, the actor playing Jasper (Jackson Rathbone) is horrible. Every time he’s supposed to look like he’s repressing the urge to kill Bella (Kristen Stewart), he looks more like someone that has to take a really bad poop and can’t.

Two, vampires need fangs!

Maybe Stephenie Meyer made her vamps fangless to be different, but let’s face it: a lot of the story behind the series has been done before. You’re not reinventing the wheel. Give those vampires fangs! Without them, whenever Edward and the gang bear their teeth to attack, it looks less menacing and more, “Do I have something in my teeth?” Can you imagine if she’d decided to take away the werewolves’ fur or claws? Thank you.

I was curious to see how the lack of Edward (Robert Pattinson) would be handled in this film. The movie runs over two hours and he’s in about 10-15 minutes total. After the paper cut incident (God, that sounds so damn dumb), Edward decides that it would be best if he and his vamp peeps leave town. He worries that he will cause Bella more harm than good. Nevermind the fact that Bella’s at the top of a homicidal vampire’s (redundant?) shit list, he thinks it’s best if he puts some distance between them. Knowing that Bella would pretty much lose her shit, he decides to make her think he doesn’t want to be with her anymore which makes her… you guessed it, lose her shit.

From the trailers, it looked as if Bella was spending many nights in bed writhing in pain and yelling over the breakup. And though I’m not one of those parents that feel it’s the responsibility of  TV, movies, celebrities, etc. to set examples for my daughter, there was a part of me that wanted to smack her and yell, “Man up!” And due to some bad direction, the first time we see Bella in bed screaming after the breakup, most of the girls in the audience groaned. It wasn’t until the second time it happened that we learned she was actually suffering from bad dreams, hence the screaming and twisting and turning.

Still, Bella spends the majority of the movie looking for new ways to engage in dangerous behavior because it’s the only way she can “see” Edward. His image and voice serve as a kind of Jiminy Cricket warning her not to go off with white trash strangers and jump off cliffs. I’ve long said that I don’t think Kristen Stewart can act and the first 20 minutes of the film didn’t change my mind. Then a miraculous thing happened…

Jacob (Taylor Lautner) became of the focus and suddenly there was chemistry, there was an actual love story and actual acting! When reading the books, I was totally Team Edward. Now? Not so much. I actually think Taylor Lautner made Kristen Stewart a better actor. At the very least, he made her tolerable. Unfortunately for Mrs. Meyer, Taylor made it so that anyone with a brain and functioning libibo has a hard time wondering how the hell Bella could pick Edward over Jacob. Also, unfortunately for Mr. Pattinson, he removes his shirt at the end of the film after Taylor spent the majority of it looking all kinds of right with his shirt off. I’m just sayin’.

The special effects were a vast improvemnet from Twilight. The silliness of Edward going all sparkly like he spent an afternoon in Libby Lu is forgiven any time Jacob or one of his clan wolfs out. There was some very bad dialogue and scenes that didn’t make any sense. Like when after Jacob realizes what he is and what the Cullens are, he lashes out to Bella for loving the bloodsuckers. But later when he wants to tell her about himself, he asks, “Have you ever had a secret that you couldn’t tell anyone?” Um, yeah. Didn’t we already cover that she has?

In a recent interview with Oprah, Stephenie Meyer confessed that it was her mother who suggested she add some kind of action to the original ending of Twilight… and it shows. If there’s one area where the all of the books fail, it’s the climax. The pacing is pretty good throughout each one, but suddenly it’s as if Meyer realizes she needs a big ending so she starts tossing in imminent danger, plane rides, and lots of running. It all feels both forced and jarring. New Moon only handles this slightly better than the Twilight film did.

When the Volturi come on screen I realize that Twilight suffers from the same problem as True Blood and Grey’s Anatomy: the supporting characters (Lafayette, Eric, Jessica/McSteamy, Callie, Izzy/Jacob, Volturi, Rosalie) are more interesting and compelling than the main ones we’re supposed to care about (Bill and Sookie/Meredith and Derrick/Edward and Bella.)

And again, things that end up working better on the screen only reminds those of us that have read the books how much better the books could have been. The Volturi in the film are awesome…

Except for this guy:

… but it doesn’t matter how awesome they were. Their roles are small in the upcoming films and we don’t see them again till the end of Breaking Dawn during that drawn-out battle that falls flat. Then again, what does Meyer care? The books have already been written and made her buttload of money.

New Moon is head and shoulders above Twilight as a film. The action is better paced and the ending was spot-on. It left me, and all the tweens, atwitter and counting down to the Eclipse premiere.

Going to see New Moon opening night inspired this blog.

Top Five People That Shouldn’t Go To The Movies

Let me start by saying that I love going to the movies. It’s an event. I love the whole process from checking movie times to standing in line for your tickets and popcorn. I love going to see a long-awaited film on opening weekend with a crowd of just-as-excited moviegoers. I love the trailers – especially those kick-ass teasers that leave you wanting more and turning to the person with you and asking, “We have to wait till next summer?!” I don’t care how many flat screens I get with BluRay players and surround sound, nothing will beat the tradition of going to see a movie in the theater.

Between my recent part-time gig doing trailer checks and taking Kali to see New Moon on Friday, I’ve been spending a lot of time in theaters lately. It has made me realize that some people shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house, or at the very least, go to to movies because they don’t know how to act. They are:

5. Latecomers - I know shit happens. There’s traffic, forgetting your wallet at home, the inability to find a parking space, etc. I’m not complaining about people who arrive at the theater late. It can happen to any of us. I’m talking about the asshats that arrive late and feel the need to make a big show of how surprised they are to find the theater full.

You know what I mean. They turn that corner, find the theater full, and do that exaggerated double-take, or stop short and let out a loud gasp or groan. Really, idiot? You’re shocked that you arrived 15 minutes late to a movie some people camped out to buy tickets for and found it full?

Sit your ass down, please.

You know, I think I’ll make it my business to always be early just to mock these fools and watch as they are forced to sit in the front row and get a neck cramp.

4. Loud Talkers – I don’t mean during the movie. It’s been a very long time since I’ve encountered someone who talked through the movie. I’m talking about the people that, just because the movie hasn’t started yet, think it’s okay to let everyone in on their personal conversation. Two examples, same people:

While in line for popcorn Friday, there was a group of girls (20′s) behind Kali and I. They were debating what they were going to get and calculating the cost. Like most people, they were considering sharing items to cut down on the expense. Then one said to the other…

“Can we afford to get the large of both the popcorn and the soda?”

“I don’t know. How much is it?”

“The large drink is $6.75, but it has free refills.”

“It looks kinda big. Maybe we  should get the medium.”

“But the large cups are collector cups. I want one with Edward on it.”

“We should be okay. I mean, we didn’t get the dog food yesterday and I still have that $20. I have to put that in the bank tomorrow. We just need to be careful.”

“And you gotta put that twenty in the bank.”

“Yeah.”

Oh.My.God. The whole conversation made me uncomfortable! Lower your voices! I don’t want to hear how your poor dog is home starving cause you had to get your Twilight on!

Then, this same group of women were seated directly behind us in the theater. The lights are still on and the screen is showing those trivia questions and silly commercials. So, no the movie hasn’t started, but still.

“You know the $5 I gave you for cigarettes?”

“Yeah. I said I’d give it back to you Tuesday.”

“This Tuesday?”

“No. Tuesday when I paid Tuesday.”

“Oh. Cause she just gave you $5.”

“Yeah, but I need it. I need money.”

“Well, so do I. But I guess as long as you’re good to go…”

“Oh yeah, I’m really good to go with a whole five dollars.”

“… and got money for cigarettes, beer, vodka…”

“You know what? Shut up.”

“Whatever. You shut up.”

I never have cash on me. Ever. But Friday evening I just happened to have a fiver folded in my purse and I was pretty sure it was fate telling me to turn around toss that bitch the money if it meant they would shut the hell up!

3. The Critics – Yes, I’ve been getting paid to gauge audience reaction to movie trailers. But guess what? I get paid whether you cheer, groan, moan, boo, or not. What I can’t stand is that one guy that feels the need to give his stamp of approval on every trailer before the film.Loudly.

“Well, that looks stupid.”

“Oh, that’s gonna be awesome.”

“Ooookay. What the hell was that?”

“I can’t wait to see that.”

No one gives a shit! Shut up.

This is also the same guy that feels the need to try and guess the movie from the first three seconds of the trailer.

“Batman? Terminator 6? Lord of the Rings prequel?’

Hey, Sherlock. How ’bout you zip it and let us see what the fuck it is?

2. Undecideds – People who stand in front of you in a long concession line only to get to the front and still not know what they want. Seriously? Nevermind the fact that you had enough time in line to figure out what you want, but the food at the movies doesn’t change?! Everyone has their usual order. We get the same shit (for the most part) every time we go! Why the hell don’t you know what you want by the time you get up there?

1. Black people - Shut.The.Fuck.Up.

What are your movie-going peeves?

BIOBaby: Baby Boner

This is quite possibly the funniest, yet most disturbing, experience of my life…

So, last night Donny, Jack, and I are in bed watching TV. Donny and I are kinda sitting up with our backs against the headboard and Jack is lying horizontal with his head on Donny’s side and his feet against my leg. I notice that his diaper is kinda crooked so I reach over and undo one velcro side strap to fix it.

Jack pushes my hand away and decides to take advantage of having a now-open diaper by sticking his hand inside of it. He starts playing with his little penis and giggling. And not just regular giggles, but squeals of masturbatory delight.

It was as if all the other times he’d found his penis were warm-up and now, well now he meant business. Attempts by me to remove his hand and close the diaper were met with swats from the unoccupied hand with a precision and speed that can only be described as ninja-like.

I tried to be stern, but not too stern. I mean, I don’t want him to grow up with some weird penis complex. But the whole thing was actually quite funny so I’m also laughing like a fool. Donny responded as most men would.

“That’s my boy!”

And Jack is no dummy. Just when he sensed that maybe I was not fooling around anymore, and would no longer be hampered by fits of laughter, he would pull his hand out from the diaper, pat his tummy and say, “Belly. Belly.” As if reminding me that he was smarter than the average bear his age would make up for the fact that he was conducting his first spank-job on my bed!

And because I am like every other mother that likes to brag when she realizes that she is indeed the mother of a smarter-than-average bear, I did what any braggart would do:

I grabbed the video camera from my nightstand… which I realize as I type this sounds incredibly scandalous, delicious, lascivious, and other naughty words that end in -ous.  While my back was turned Jack proceeded to stick his hand back in his diaper and move it around furiously, laughing like a madman. I got about fifteen seconds of footage in which Donny and I can be heard laughing in the background. Jack continued to lie on his back, hand alternating between pulling on his penis and patting his tummy. It was at about sixteen seconds that I realized that we could very well be committing some kind kiddie porn crime.

I snapped the camera closed and voiced my concerns to Donny. This seemed to make the situation at least 35% less funny to him. He got all Caucasian on Jack.

“Jack Ian (insert last name here)!! Stop tugging on your little peter!”

His little peter?

I move Jack’s hand and get serious. I’m not tryna get peed on.

“Belly?”

“No. No belly. That’s not gonna work this time.”

I undo the other side of the diaper and open it up to adjust it properly and there, staring me dead in the face was my son’s angry, swollen, dog-dick red, baby boner.

“Donny, you deal with this!”

Who knew the male penis fascination began so early?!

TCTBTF: Week 1 Goals

How’d you do on your first Too Cute To Be This Fat goal?

Remember, mine was to eliminate all soda for a week. I slipped up twice. Once, we got some Italian take-out and I instinctively ordered a Sprite. Don’t you hate it when you slip up on your diet and it’s not even worth it. I was halfway done with the Sprite when I realized that 1. I was drinking something I had no business drinking and 2. it tasted like ass. Then, later in the week Kali asked if I would buy some Apple Fanta because she’d never heard of apple soda. Neither had I, so I did and I tried one. It was like fizzy apple juice.

I’ve lost 3lbs this week just by cutting out down on soda. This week my goal is to continue with the no soda and only water challenge and incorporate a no fast food challenge.

I’m about to head to the market and do my grocery shopping for the week. I’ve made a dinner menu and everything.

Chicken Tacos

Fish Tacos

Southwestern Cilantro Lime Mango Grilled Chicken Sandwiches

Chili

Sage Pork Chops w/ Parmesan Rice

And one night we’re going out to dinner for an assignment I have.

So, how’d you do this week? What will your week 2 goal be?

P.S. Need some extra motivation? Try going in your closet and looking at all the cute clothes you can no longer wear. That’ll set your ass straight real quick.

End of Week Thoughts 11-6-09

Of course, I’m thinking about what everyone has been transfixed to since yesterday afternoon – the awful shooting in Ft. Hood. And while it is a tragedy, I’m almost equally appalled by the media coverage.

I don’t fault the media from reporting that the shooter was killed when he wasn’t. They’re doing their job. They are reporting the news and someone shooting innocent people on a U.S. military base is news. They got the information from what should be a reliabe source – the military officials on the scene. And I don’t fault them either. Early reports now say that a dead victim was believed to be the shooter, while the shooter lay bleeding from four bullet wounds.

What bothered me was all the speculation that comes with trying to compete in a 24-hour news cycle. Because they have to fill space with something while they wait for facts and details, journalists are now just talking out of their asses. Experts on everything from PTSD to semi-automatic handguns are brought in to speculate on scenarios that may or may not exist! Instead of the media reporting the facts and letting us decide what to think/feel, they’re throwing all kinds of crap on the wall not to see what sticks, but so that when the facts are finally clear they can say, “See, we tossed that around earlier.”

When it was revealed that the shooter was Muslim, I groaned. Much like I do when I find out that the man on the news who killed his wife and kids in Atlanta was black. I don’t know. Maybe you have to be a minority to get it. We just don’t need the fucking headaches sometimes. I’m a black woman married to a white man living in the south. And not just any south. A place where our president is openly called a nigger. Where I have to drive behind the most vile bumper stickers with my kids. But that’s not really the point. The point is that I knew all the speculation and vitiriol that would arise once it was confirmed he was Muslim.

Newscasters tiptoed around it. “We don’t know for sure that he ever traveled overseas or was influenced by terrorist propaganda…” Then why the fuck are you spending 15 minutes talking about the possibilty of it?! Since when did journalism mean reporting possibilities?

Then his family released a statement where, phrased several ways, they felt compelled to reassure everyone that the shooter was American, they were American, and that they loved this country. In other words, “Please, our fellow Americans, don’t let your shock and grief make you take this out on innocent Muslims.” Then his cousin revealed that the shooter had often complained of harassment within the military. He was harassed for being Muslim and called names like “camel jockey.” The media tripped over themselves to rush past that.

It’s not blaming the victim to discuss the consequences of hate speech – whether that was the main cause or just a symptom. In all their speculation trying to find a reason, the media just glossed over reports that provided some insight – from people who knew the shooter personally: He didn’t want to go to Iraq and fight against other Muslims. He was harrassed by other military personnel for being Muslim. He’d tried many times to get out of the military because he’d confessed, “it wasn’t for him.” NONE of these are excuses, but they bear looking into.

It’s like we only want to question what makes people do horrible things if the answers make us comfortable, and usually that means we just want to hear that the person was batshit crazy and no outside forces or actions of others played any part. It reminds me of the Natalee Holloway case in that her mother was downright furious that the media would question the reports that Natalee had been very intoxicated when she left with three strange guys. Her mother said that no matter how much she had to drink, she shouldn’t have been murdered. She’s absolutely right. You should be able to walk down the street as pissy drunk as you wanna be and no one has the right to take advantage of you or harm you in anyway. But that’s not realistic.

I think it would be a missed opportunity if the parents of young girls didn’t point to that case as the perfect example of why they shouldn’t do the exact opposite of all the common sense things we spend years trying to teach them. Just like it would be a shame to let yesterday’s tragedy be just another hot button news item for a week or so and only to be brought up again at anniversaries or when someone writes a book about it.

And don’t even get me started on the media’s need to frame the news stories instead of reporting them. This morning I watched a journalist interview a military official at Ft. Hood who was explaining that it was a civilian officer who had stopped directing traffic when she heard the commotion, went to help, and ultimately shot the suspect four times. The journalist said, “Let me get this clear – she came on the scene, turned a corner, and found herself in a face to face shoot-out with the suspect?”

The official said, “Well, we don’t know the proximity….”

Not ten minutes later, the journalist tweeted that the woman was a hero for engaging in a “close-range” gun battle with the suspect. Didn’t he just say they don’t know if it was close range or not? Am I missing something? Is it just me?

Heinous Fuckery Most Foul

Lately, there have been many things that leave me shaking my head. For instance:

In these tough economic times it’s not uncommon for families to look for ways to save money at the market. We’re no exception. Donny is quick to buy no-name brand stuff. Me? Not so much. Well, I’ll buy some things generic, but I’m very picky about it. I try to tell Donny there are some things you just can’t skimp on. My cheese has to be Kraft. My mayo has to be Hellmann’s. My ketchup has to be Heinz. It’s how I roll.

I’m also not a fan of ready meals. I like to thaw my meat and cook it and then cook some kind of veggie/starch to go with it. I’m not down with ripping open packages of powdered whateverthefuck, mixing it with water, and tossing it with meat. Which, as you can probably guess, that means I’m not one to buy Hamburger Helper.

Again, unlike me, Donny’s not so picky. Hamburger, Tuna, Chicken, Donny will take some assistance from that talking glove.

The other day we were grocery shopping and I noticed they have all these far-out flavors now like Taco and Philly Cheesesteak. We’d picked up a few packages of ground beef so I gave in and grabbed two boxes. Then I noticed a bigger box of the stuff that read, “Just Add Water.” I looked closer and read, “Meat included.”

“Donny. How is the meat included?”

And my husband, who will really eat just about anything replied, “That’s nasty. Put that down.”

Then…

We were driving through a predominantly black area a few weeks ago and I pulled up behind this car with an NPR bumper sticker. We were at a red light so I pulled up next to the car and tried to get the driver’s – a white woman – attention. She wouldn’t look over.

“Donny, you’re right next to her. Wave.”

“She’s probably scared.”

“I know, but you’re white. She won’t be scared of you.”

So Donny starts waving his arms like a madman and she looks over. I ask her where on the dial I can find NPR and she tells me and then I ask, “AM or FM?” Which, in retrospect, was a stupid fucking question. She laughs and says, “FM.” Because, apparently, she also realized what a stupid fucking question it was. And, to alleviate any doubt I might have over the ridiculousness of my question, Donny laughs as the light turns green and says, “That was a stupid fucking question.”

A short while later…

We’re at another red light and I look over at this really cheesy motel.

“I wouldn’t stay there if you paid me.”

“That’s not a motel, that’s a fucktel.”

“Donny, I wouldn’t stay there if it came with a night of sex with Brad Pitt.”

“But Nina, they have micro-fridges.”

“What’s a micro-fridge?”

“Like, a little fridge.”

“Ooooh, for some reason I was thinking of like, a fridge that’s also a microwave.”

“You are retarded.”

Then…

We’re headed up to bed with the kids. I’m carrying Jack and I pause to make sure the front door is locked. Donny is walking up the stairs ahead of me, Kali behind, when she says, “I know what a redneck is.”

“How do you know that?”

“My teacher told me.”

“Well, what’s a redneck?”

“A redneck is someone who didn’t think slaves should be freed.”

I almost dropped Jack down the stairs.

And finally…

I’ve been doing some mystery shopping and merchandising on the side to make extra money now that Christmas is upon us. Most of it has been a lot of fun. I’ve been paid to sit in a theater and gauge the audience reaction to movie trailers, restock maps at FedEx Kinkos, secret shop restaurants, gas stations, fast food joints, and clothing stores, and take pics of promotional materials in movie theaters.

One night, Donny tagged along with me to three theaters where I had to take pics of posters for the movie Precious. By the time we left the second theater we were starving and Donny suggested we stop at Krystal’s. Krystal’s is like White Castle – square-shaped shit burgers. We get two orders of the Cheesinator: 5 cheese Krystals with chili-cheese fries.

We’re eating and heading to the next theater (20mins away from our house via back roads) when I realize that I’m not feeling so well.

“Oooh, Donny, I feel like I’m going into labor all over again.”

“I’m just sleepy.” Donny said. Donny had been up since 2:30 a.m. and it was now after 7pm.

I had this really bad lower back pain and it was hot. I felt like the back of my jeans were two seconds away from looking like the mudflaps on a semi. Thankfully, the bubble guts passed almost as quickly as they began. Then…

We’re almost to the theater when I’m suddenly overcome with the giggles. Like, everything is funny. EVERYTHING.

“Oh my God. Look at those trees. They’re SO funny!”

Donny was feeling kind of kooky too. So, we get to the theater and I run in to take the pictures and run back out. Donny is asleep. I wake him up ’cause I’m feeling really wired and I’m starting to worry.

“What if they drugged us at Krystal’s?”

“Why would they do that?”

“Why does anyone do anything crazy? ‘Cause they’re crazy! I feel like they slipped us some… some… some of that drug that makes you sleepy and giggly.”

“They slipped us pot?”

“No. I think it was stronger than that. If we don’t remember this tomorrow, we’ll know we’ve been drugged.”

“Well, if we don’t remember, then we won’t remember that we thought we were drugged.”

“Shut up.”

We start the trip home (and I’m rushing cause it’s a Wednesday and Glee is on) and realize that we both have really bad cotton mouth. Of course, the fast food place gave us mounds of ice with very little beverage so we’re driving along with two cups of ice. I make a last minute decision to whip into the parking lot of a convenience store/gas station.

“What are you doing?” Donny asked as I pulled into a parking space.

“I’m thirsty.”

And then we just sit there looking at each other like, “Well, go ahead.”

Donny ain’t budging so I get out of the car and run inside. You know how people get super paranoid when they’re really high or drunk? And any attempt to not act high or drunk just makes it worse?

I’m wandering around the store and the two Indian guys behind the counter are looking at me like I already stole something. I settle on a two-liter grape soda and refuse a bag. I tuck it in my sweater like a stolen baby and trot back to the car.

“Donny. We’ve been roofed.”

“What?”

“Roofies. The date-rape drug. The people at Krystal’s roofed us.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m right. It’s a heinous fuckery most foul.”

BIOBaby: Halloween 2009

This was Jack’s 2nd Halloween and Kali’s 11th. I must admit that I kinda live vicariously through Kali when it comes to this holiday. With her biracial looks, she’s able to pull off costumes that I could only dream about. As a little brown girl, I would never really look like Wonder Woman, Lil Orphan Annie, or Dorothy. I’d look like a little black girl dressed up as Wonder Woman, Lil Oprhan Annie and Dorothy.

Kali and I do this delicate dance every year when it comes to her costume. At first, the struggle was getting her to dress up as a character I wanted. Unless Michael Bay or someone else in Hollywood “reimagines” the shows/books/characters we grew up with, most kids today wouldn’t know who they were. If you asked a teenage boy what the General Lee was before that God-awful Jessica Simpson movie, they wouldn’t be able to tell you. And girls that Daisy Duke was a pair of coochie-cutting shorts.

Then we fought over the definition of a costume. One year, she wanted to be Hannah Montana and the “costume” consisted of a blond wig, some leggings under a mini skirt, a denim jacket and a fake microphone.

“Ma, pleeeeease?!”

“No. Kali, that’s not a costume. No one will look at you and know what you are. You’ll just look like Kali in a blond wig with really bad mall clothing!”

Now, our battle is over what is an appropriate costume. Thanks to porn, even an innocent cheerleader’s uniform takes on a sexual tone. And it doesn’t help that costume companies are tarting up the little girls’ costumes younger and younger. This year Kali wanted to be a vampire witch. That’s some shit somebody made up. Another way to add an extra few bucks to the cost of a witch costume by adding plastic fangs.

We settled on a Japanese princess costume. I kept calling it a geisha until Donny said he thought that might be a Japanese whore, and then we just stuck with Japanese princess until we knew for sure. The costume consisted of a kimono, kimono belt, and two red sticks to place in her hair. Very simple, inexpensive and extremely pretty.

Jack was a baby devil.

So, Saturday gets here and I chose then, hours before they were due to go trick-or-treating, to make them try on their costumes. Jack kinda looked like the long-lost red Teletubby. And Kali, well, Kali looked gorgeous. I was so tempted to get a burlap sack and have her go as a 5lb bag of potatoes instead. She put on some black tights and open toe flippy-floppy shoes. I put her hair in a bun, applied the sticks and even let her wear a little make up.

It was drizzling out so my Aunt and I drove the kids from house to house… at first. Then the rain let up and Kali and her friends wanted to walk so we followed behind them at a slow crawl. Hey, that’s how they roll in the suburbs. Well then Jack kept trying to jump out the window to get to his sister, so we parked the car back at my house and busted out the stroller to hoof it.

After about three houses Kali started complaining about the hair sticks and wanted to take them out. I told her no and watched as she sulked her way to the next house.

“I don’t understand why I can’t take the sticks out! They hurt!”

When she was out of earshot…

“Because the sticks make the costume. Without the sticks you are just a ten-year-old girl in a silky dress with too much makeup on. The sticks make you Japanese. Without them, it looks like I let me daughter leave the house looking like a whore!”

Two houses later, the sticks were gone. A house after that, she had changed from her shoes into pink Converses. By the time she was hitting the last few houses, the bun was gone and her hair was flowing down her back in a ponytail. It looked like I sent my child out trick-or-treating in a robe and sneakers. *sigh*

Speaking of trick-or-treating, my aunt and I realized after a few houses that the girls weren’t even saying it as doors were opened.

“Are you guys saying trick-or-treat?”

My little sister replied, “No. We just smile.”

“For the love of… are you at least saying thank you?”

Kids today do not know how to trick-or-treat and half of them weren’t wearing real costumes! Pajamas aren’t costumes, people! Stop letting your kids leave the house in them.

The next day, Kali was walking around the house in her kimino with it unbelted. It looked like a silk robe. With her underwear peeking through she looked like that character that opens the door on an Law and Order: SVU episode. You know what I’m talking about. Stabler and Benson go to interview “a lady of the night” and she answers the door with her open robe, a cigarette in one hand, and a drink in the other.

“Girl, if you don’t put some clothes on!!”

Halloween will be the death of me.