believe it or not, I'm not a huge trick or treater. Honestly, it's because I'm juvenile and I still get my feelings hurt when people can't celebrate my birthdizzy until they have recovered from their drunken Halloween stupors. I mean don't get me wrong. I can pull off a mean Jessica Simpson, a delicious birthday cake, a graceful syncronized swimmer and even a pretty fierce tattoo girl. This year takes the cake though. Emily said she wanted to dress up at work. I said no. She said what if we wear temporary tattoos? Oh be still my beating heart. Anyone who knows me knows I love some temporary tats. They let me fulfill my dream of having tats without regretting it a year later. With the promise of tats and a giant afro wig, I obliged.
Someone asked me was I Kat Von D on a bad hair day. Someone asked me was I Oprah (really? Oprah?). Someone told me I looked like I had cirrhosis (umm...how? last I checked I didn't really look like a giant liver walking around). And someone asked me if I was the Rocky Horror Picture Show (not just one character. the entire cast). All of these concern me. I mean, I thought I was looking pretty fly when I walked out of the hizzy that morning. Just another day with bigger hair and more flair on my appendages.