One for Trouble, Two for Booze

I think the movie Mean Girls summed it up best when they described Halloween as follows:

"In the regular world, Halloween is when children dress up in costumes and beg for candy. In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it."

What's not totally accurate is that even on Halloween, girls still talk shit about other girls who are dressed sluttier. But in general, since I entered college, the entire point of Halloween has been finding the most revealing outfit I can get away with wearing in public on one night of the year. I think my sophomore year costume took the cake: I dressed as a Victoria's Secret angel, donning only white heels, white fishnet stockings, white boy shorts, a white corset, and wings.

So this year, well before Halloween, the process of finding a slutty costume commenced.

R and I spent a Sunday at the costume store, picking out our costumes. We had decided to go as the Village People; I would be the sailor, R would be the cop, and whenever we walked into a bar we would do the YMCA. Personally, I thought it was a genius idea.

This being Halloween, though, we were obviously going as a slutty sailor and a slutty cop. R was using an old police costume of mine that read "Sergeant Sexy," and fuzzy handcuffs I had gotten as a joke present (really, I swear).

I found a slutty sailor costume at the store that was so short that I was having qualms about wearing it in public, especially since I'd be climbing in and out of cabs all night and had no intentions of pulling a Britney. That is, until I found out girlfriend A had actually purchased her French maid getup at a lingerie store. As in it was meant to be worn as a sexy role-playing costume. Amazing.

So there R and I were, standing at the sock aisle picking out appropriate thigh-high stockings (mine, white with little red bows and metallic anchor charms; R's, black fishnets with tiny handcuff charms) when a random stranger approached us.

He eyed our purchases and said, "Wow, I hope you girls are going out on Halloween with some guys. Big ones. Otherwise you are going to get so harassed."

"Excuse me," I asked.

"I just meant with those costumes, you girls are obviously looking for trouble," he said.

Taking his warning under advisement, we bought S a sexy referee costume. The logic behind this was that she would be able to regulate any trouble in her very official-looking costume. Later, it occurred to R and I that giving the loudest girl we know a whistle probably wasn't the best idea we've ever had.

To take advantage of the whistle, we came up with a plan that every time S blew the whistle, it was a sign to follow the sound and find her. If it was one long chirp, it would mean she had been cornered by some weird dude and was in need of rescuing. Two medium chirps would signal that it was time for shots. And three short chirps, the ultimate, would let us know that she had found attractive guys that we should immediately come flirt with.

In short, one for trouble, two for booze, three for men. Wouldn't want to get those signs confused and commit a foul. Especially since the referee costume didn't come with its own yellow flags...

So all in all, despite the initial concerns, the whistle ended up coming in quite handy and I'm not altogether convinced that we shouldn't all carry them even when it's not Halloween. I think a little whistle-blowing would save a lot of guys from dealing with sore testicles, and me from the legal fees involved in my assault lawsuits.