Chocolate Icecream Can't Fix my Depression: I'm Out of Icecream and my Jeans Feel Tight

Just kidding, jeans are for people who leave the house. I'm wearing baggy sweatpants.

   I'm not sure if I'm going to publish this. Let's see how this goes, shall we?

   So, if you've read my blog much before, you know I'm a huge fan of Allie Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half, because her blog is witty, funny, and beautifully relatable. Her most recent post was Adventures in Depression, in which she comes to terms with how she's been. I remember reading it shortly after it appeared on her blog and thinking shucks, this is almost word for word how I've been feeling, right down to the pile of laundry that I'll do "later." I appreciated the accurate descriptions, and recognised that I was probably also suffering from depression. Being the totally rational and sensible person I was, I dealt with this by shoving it to the back of my mind to instead distract myself by endlessly browsing Reddit and eating.

   I think I've got to the point where I've realised now that if my problem is not being fixed by chocolate icecream, perhaps I ought to try a different strategy. Anyway, tonight I seriously decided apathy and icecream wasn't going to cut it and I'm actually going to do something. I'm a little embarrassed it took so long between "realising I probably have depression" and "actually actively deciding to do something about it"- it's worth pointing out that Adventures in Depression was published well over a year ago. Better late than never, I suppose. I think I put it off for so long for two reasons:

1. If I pretend I'm not depressed maybe I won't be depressed and just be happy. (The logic is not very strong with this one.)

2. I didn't really know where to start.

   Everyone has to have their breaking point where they decide "enough is enough." Mine happened about a week ago. I'd been out drinking in town because I'd convinced myself that it meant that at least I'd left the house and been sociable, so that counts as achieving something, right? And I'd woken up on a friend's couch the next morning, realised I'd managed to lose my eftpos card, my ipod, my keys and my favourite lipstick. Also my other friend was going to get me Fergburger the previous night, but I hadn't met up with them and thus had missed out. As this post has already made apparent, food is a strong motivating factor for me because food doesn't judge you. So that was the last straw, really. I picked myself up, walked home (which was particularly unpleasant when I was hungry and didn't have music to listen to) and threw myself on my bed, feeling sorry for myself and deciding that I was stupid and should know better than to ever leave the house again.

Best comfort food ever. They didn't even pay me to say that, but if they gave me a free Chief Wiggum burger, I would totally whore out my integrity for food and write a whole blog post about why it is the best burger place in the south island at least. OH GOD I'M SO HUNGRY.

   After stewing on that for a week or so, I've decided I have had enough. It's normally something I'd cringe about, but I posted on Facebook basically saying I'd like to get help but have no clue where to start. I was taken aback by the kindness of my Facebook friends.

   They sent me a lot of supportive messages and reminded me that treatment for depression is often free in New Zealand, so as not to let cost be a barrier to my getting better, and I was sent a couple of helpful links. One was The Lowdown. It's been advertised to death on New Zealand television, but for some reason I'd never got around to checking it out. It's pretty decent, and most importantly, relevant. In the sense that I'd come across many "help" sites for depression, but they were nearly all based in America, so the numbers they provided for helplines were not particularly useful for me.

   Another link I was given was for Depression Quest. "Depression Quest" sounds like a super lame game focused on achievements such as "eating all the icecream again, you disgusting fat slob" and "drowning in your own tears and self pity" but is actually an interactive fiction game where you play, surprise surprise, a depressed person. As you go on and make more "depressed" choices in the game, you find your options become more and more limited- but as you make better decisions for your mental health and relationships, you are able to make more choices and start to get better. It's supposed to be able to help people understand what living with depression is like, and make you feel like you are not alone in how you feel. Anyway, I "won" kinda. I got the ending where things are starting to get better and you realise that you can cope with this aspect of your life.

   For me, this was a revelation. You see, I've always considered being depressed as a part of my life, and a part of myself. Like no matter what effort I make, it's always going to be there, and I'm always going to feel this way, and I'm  never going to get any better. The ending of Depression Quest showed me that even though it might never go away, I can learn to cope with it and enjoy life and have healthy relationships and do stuff. It's part of me, sure, but it's not going to rule my life like it is currently. I wanted to do something about it.

   I dealt with this by going back on Reddit and eating a bowl of noodles and cheese.

   I kept meaning to do something about this. It was always in the back of my mind. But the first place to go would be my GP- and due to unemployment etc, I convinced myself that I couldn't afford to go to the doctor, and that I'll just have to sit at home by myself until I'd convinced myself that I was better.

   At least my friends knew about it now. At least they were able to be supportive. I found that to be a helpful start at least. One of them sent me another link: Allie had made another post about depression at Hyperbole and a Half, and it was fantastic.

Also this drawing by her became my Facebook profile picture for a couple of days because it perfectly summed up exactly how I was feeling.

   As much as I found these links inspiring and helpful, and as much as I realised I was depressed and wanted to do something about it, for the past couple of years, my motivation to do anything has been at an all time low. Seriously. I started writing this about a month ago, and I'm only just finishing it now.

   I got sick, physically. That was what prompted me. I'd been in Dunedin staying at a friend's, when I suddenly got horrifically sick. I couldn't afford to see a doctor in Dunedin- even more expensive being away from home, so I had to wait it out until my bus back to Queenstown and take painkillers galore and drink my own bodyweight in water twice a day until then. It was not very pleasant.

   Also, I wasn't able to get a bus back to Queenstown until a Friday night, which meant I had to tough it out for the weekend or pay weekend rates for the doctor, which are even worse when you're unemployed. (Also: never become an artist. Sure, I'm doing something I love, but I can't even afford to take care of myself when I'm sick.)

   I thought I could tough it out for another couple of days. Anyway, by 10 am on Saturday, I was curled up in agony on my living room floor, and my mum insisted I was going to the doctors.

   While I was there, I thought, considering I was paying $80 for the visit, I might as well get my money's worth and mention my depression to my doctor, who said she could arrange some things and get me some help for free. Oh, also, I'm not in pain and dying now, which is nice. Eighty bloody dollars though...

   I'm seeing someone on Friday. I'll keep you posted. Probably. If I find the motivation...

Valentine's Day Special 2013

   For the third year in a row (has Probably Not Sane really been around that long?) I bring you top-quality writing on what is actually one of my favourite holidays.

I get that it's not everyone's favourite holiday. Even now, half my facebook newfeed is ranting about how Valentine's Day is stupid and should totally not happen and how it's all about commercialism and that they will be spending the day with a bottle of vodka instead. Well guess what. I've been in a relationship for the past two Valentine's Days and I'm in a relationship this year too. And it's great. So I get to be all smug about things. Even better, this year I actually get to spend the day with my boyfriend, so I get to be doubly smug. Cheers Intercity for your lovely affordable bus fares.

With the amount of times I've travelled between Queenstown and Dunedin over the past couple of years, I'm probably their most loyal customer.

   Current boyfriend and I were discussing what we would like to do for Valentine's day this year but most of our ideas were pretty impractical. We originally thought camping would be cute, but then wondered where we would go/how we would get there (neither of us drives) and that what if the lovely unpredictable south island weather goes bad? (It probably will.) As we ran out of feasible ideas, we decided it totally wasn't unromantic to google for suggestions.

   It didn't work out to be the best idea.

   What I learnt from this is that there is a ton of rubbish advice out there on Valentine's day ideas. Or maybe just advice that didn't suit our relationship of being two cynical, poor, strange people, who both happen to live with their families at the moment. (So we can forget suggestions to have sex in every room in the house, because somehow I don't see either of our families appreciating that.)

   It's time to do what Bellez does best. Make fun of these ideas.

   So the first article we can pull apart is this lovely one from Esquire, mainly because it was the first result for “cheap valentine's date ideas” and also because there are some ridiculous suggestions. For example,this suggestion involves playing video games with your (pregnant)date. I'm sure Cosmo has an extension on the idea: every time someone loses, they remove an article of clothing.

Why this is a bad idea for us:

Scott's much, much better at video games than me, so it would just end with me naked, watching him play. Also I did mention he lives with his family.

   The next suggestion involves what to do with your mistress. Esquire suggests a lunch date, because you should save a dinner date for someone you truly love, despite the fact that earlier in the day, you were donging someone else. Charming.

Why this is a bad idea for us:

Because, unless you're in some form of open relationship, this is probably a bad idea for all couples. I don't know if I would really want to take relationship advice from somewhere that tries to help me sneakily sleep with two people on Valentine's day. Or any day.

   At this point, I decided it was time to research ideas in other places. Because I was being a bit lazy about it I decided to see what good ol' Cosmo had to say about that- no longer for legitimate ideas, but purely for entertainment purposes. Unfortunately, all they had was "30 Things to Do With A Naked Man" (spoiler alert:  "have sex with him" "have sex with him" and "have sex with him" probably featured on the list somewhere.)

   Surely there was more sincere advice somewhere, but if it was, I was struggling to find it. I was not keen on cutting out a hundred paper hearts and writing something I love about him on each one and scattering them about the place for him to find.

By the time I get to heart #58, I'm sure this is what it will say.

   Besides, who wants to clean up a hundred paper hearts, or be the unfortunate person to find heart #27? ("I like our sex life.") 

   "Relive your first date." I'm not sure if this counted as our first date, but I was less than keen to relive drinking goon in the gardens and watching him vomit.

   Anyway, my bus to Dunedin is booked, and out of ideas or not, I'm still going to see my boyfriend. If this post was going to have a cheesy moral, it would be that of all the things you can do with someone you love this Valentine's Day, the best thing you can do is to simply spend time with them.

   And maybe have sex with them. Cheers Cosmo!

Update: He made me cupcakes, (his mum helped, but ssh) and I made him eclaires and his sister cooked a romantic dinner for us. Also I got all pretty for our date so you know there's going to be photos...

Bellez gets all fashion blog on you

   So I'm not going to pretend I'm the most fashion conscious person on blogger. I mean, hey, you remember this, right? Though to be honest, I got all self conscious before my Skype date with Dom and got all pretty instead. I almost feel like I've betrayed my readers. At least he was happy.

If it makes you feel any better, I still was wearing my leopard pants.

   However, there are a few trends that I honestly don't understand. One of these used to be drop-crotch pants. Seriously, no one wants to look like they're sagging in the crotch region, or wearing a diaper. Or whatever. And then what happened? This happened.

Note the crotch around my knees.

   I got a pair of leopard print drop crotch pants and now feel the need to defend myself.

   First of all, I have not yet worn these in public, but mostly in the privacy of my own home. Secondly, they are comfortable. I'll be honest, in that photo, they look like pyjamas, and I have used them as such. In reality, they're more fitted around the waist, making my hips look large, but my waist comparatively tiny. Which is good. Thirdly, they are made from a soft, flowy fabric. I still have a hate for fitted drop crotch pants made from denim. All the unflattering implications of a drop crotch, none of the comfort.

   So I have chosen to focus on other trends I dislike, with the help of the wonderful website, Polyvore.

   First of all, I want to talk about mullets. Not the awful hairstyles, though I have noticed some people getting this haircut "ironically." (In that case, I'm going to ironically sit around in my pyjamas and eat cake all day, because that's also unattractive. Right?) No, I'm talking about the mullet hemline, or, as the shops selling you this gaff would prefer to call it, asymmetrical hemline. Here's an example I made of the best and worst of mullet hemlines.

   In the interests of keeping an open mind, some of these examples are almost wearable. I think the red one in the top row would look pretty cool if you were dancing, and the rest are flowy enough that they almost (almost) look pretty in a floaty, dreamy sort of way. But then I remember that I live in the south island and the sort of skirts that are floaty and dreamy can only be worn for approximately two weeks of the year in which the weather is warm enough. Call me biased. The three dresses in the middle row are all unflattering shapes to begin with before they got mulleted. Look at that grey thing. It's a glorified hessian sack. In grey. The dress at the end isn't strictly a mullet dress, but the hemline isn't symmetrical so there is that. I guess all I can say about mullet hemlines is that I'm probably just envious of people living in a warmer climate.

   And no, Auckland does not count as "warmer."

   Now, let's talk hair. Hair is the bane of my life. I have a lot of it. It's thick, it's long, and it's coarse, so it tangles easily. Thank god for conditioner and hair straightners. It's also made me paranoid about my hair always looking messy. For a long time, I tolerated the trend of the messy bun. Mostly because that's all my hair would ever be should I try to put it in a bun. But not the trend has moved on to ballet top knots and big ass buns and it must be stopped now. You know who suit ballerina top knots? BALLERINAS. If you are not a ballerina, please stop. It's doing your face little favours. Again, an example.

You don't have to do this to yourself!

   There are so many wonderful hair trends right now! We don't have to resort to the top knot! Heck, we don't even have to resort to the messy bun if you don't want to. Look at this beautiful example of better things you can do with your hair.

No top knots. Please. This is simple. Beautiful. Effortless looking, even if its a little less effortless to do, mostly because I am not gifted with a talent for using bobby pins and hair spray correctly.

Well this was my simplified attempt at the stylish hair the redhead above has. I told you I'm not gifted. AT LEAST IT'S NOT A TOP KNOT.

    Even a hat. A headband. Anything but the dreaded topknot.


   Finally, to end on a positive note, a fashion trend that I love in this horribly cold part of the world. After all, I still intend to move to Dunedin, where the rain is horizontal. SWEATERS! I'm not talking about the flimsy, super thin, knitted, trendy pieces of garbage you'll find at your local Dotti or Jay Jays here. I've got t shirts more substantial than those. That's all very well for people in warmer climates wanting to do a layered look without sweating to death. There's no fear of sweating to death in Dunedin in the winter. Layering is essential to prevent death-by-hypothermia. I'm talking grandma-knitted-it style, thick, warm sweaters. Like this.

   Add some long johns, thick pants, gumboots, hat, scarf, gloves, mega thick trench coat and a sturdy umbrella and I could almost survive a Dunedin winter. Indoors.

Less than Romantic: Valentines Day 2012

   Do y'all remember last year's Valentines Day post? I hope so, it was one of my crowning achievements on this blog. Last year was also the first time I'd ever celebrated Valentine's Day properly. I baked my boyfriend a pavlova (which is not easy, I had bigger arm muscles than he did by the end of it) and we had a lovely romantic time. Also he read the post and not only made me a handmade card with a stick figure and a heart but he even drew Pak 'n' Save man for me. He's not very creative but at least he read my blog.

   Anyway, he's about to move to Canada to be with some girl he met there (I didn't like to ask the details. I bet she wouldn't bake him a pavlova though) and the guy I'm seeing at the moment is in Auckland so I'm feeling even more cynical about the holiday this year.

   Cue the snarky blog post.

   So this year, I decided to write about bad Valentines Day ideas. You know how all the other blog posts will be giving you fun tips about date ideas? Unless of course you're reading Cracked.com's analysis of poor romantic advice. Well guess what? I'm going to be by myself on Valentines Day and I couldn't give a fat rat's ass if someone cuts my sandwiches into heart shapes. In fact, I'm going to struggle to resist the temptation to bitch at smug couples grinding all up on one another in public because dammit, it's Valentines Day and they're "in love." So I decided instead to create a list of every sickening thing smug couples will be doing tomorrow that will not only get on my nerves, but ultimately prove to not be that romantic at ALL.

1. Really poorly edited photos of the happy couple

   It's bad enough that these unflattering tributes to true love are created. But the best bit is when they're posted all over Facebook so everyone can see just how darn in love they are. I think I'll be retreating to Reddit tomorrow. Now, because I love my readers dearly and couldn't get through this without providing an example, I made this on FotoFlexer.

OH GOD DOM I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS

2. Excessive PDAs

   I'm not averse to a public display of affection or two, depending on the context. In fact, it can be downright beautiful. However, some guidelines:

• For the love of god and all that is holy, if you have sex in public, please do not let me see you. I'm slowly running out of eyeball bleach, and I kinda want to save it for the important things. Like this ugly dress.
• Please do not force PDAs on your partner. It's awkward to watch.
• Please do not become a traffic hazard while performing a public display of affection.
• Please do not get offended by anyone telling you to "get a room." They are likely also alone for Valentines Day.

3. What's as bad as flashing your genitals in public? Flashing your money.

   Please. This is a Valentines Day date. This is not your wedding. Do not hire a helicopter. Or a horse-drawn carriage. Even if you can afford it. (Though seriously, who can in this economic climate?)


4. Do not feel sorry for me

   Yes I'll be spending my Valentines Day alone. I might get a skype date with Dom, I might go hang out with my other lonely friends. I might stuff my face with cake. Who cares. Just don't try to rub it in my face how terrible it must be for me to spend it by myself. Cake is delicious, and Reddit is the only hot date I need (or can get) this February 14th.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

How to Write the Lyrics to a Generic Pop Song

1. Open your dictionary.

This one.

2. Pick a suitable word, nouns work best. The word I chose was liquor. This will form the basis of your chorus. It will also be the title of the song. The last lines of the chorus will be as follows:

It's like [insert word here]
It's like [insert word here]


Repeat as many times as you think is necessary for the word to stick in the listener's head, thus encouraging them to remember the name of the song, and buy it on iTunes or whatever the kiddies are doing these days.


3. Find some cliche expressions and puns to do with your chosen word. This should cover the verses. Make sure to throw in some double entendres for sex appeal.

4. Now it's time to write a bridge. You don't need lyrics for this. The easiest way to do this is just some "Oh, oh yeah"s and various other vocalisations.

5. Ladies: take a tasteful artsy topless photo of yourself for the song's promotional purposes.
   Gentlemen: take a tasteful artsy topless photo of a female for the song's promotional purposes.

6. Record.

7. ???

8. Profit.

For example:

Liquor
Liquor? Please.
I hardly even know her
The room's still spinning
And I dread to think of the hangover


Pour another drink
And let's toast the good times


CHORUS:
Being with you makes me love-drunk
It's like liquor (yeah)
Liquor (yeah)
It's like liquor (yeah)
It's like liquor


I'm sooooooooooo wasted
Take me home
Let's not waste the night
Take photos with our phones


Pour another drink and let's drink to the good times


CHORUS

BRIDGE:
Ooooh, yeah, baby you're like liquor
Oooh yeah, got me so love drunk
Oooh, yeah, baby baby baby
You're like...


CHORUS as many damn times as you want to.

Note: what makes this song really work is the use of many cliches that are commonly used in songs about alcohol. This makes the lyrics a nice, safe, mainstream choice.

I'm actually wearing a strapless top in this, the bottles make me look more nude and therefore classier.

Horoscopes

   Presented in a (probably) scrambled order, because I’m not a “professional” fortune teller, and I don’t know the order of the signs of the zodiac.

Virgo

   According to my sources, if you are a Virgo, you are supremely organised. If you are anything like me, (also a Virgo) this means everything is in lists, charts, and tables, all agonisingly colour-coordinated, and you have two engagement diaries, one for school and one for everything else. You are probably suffering from OCD and ought to see a doctor.

Aquarius

   Sometime over the next month or so, you may drown. Alternatively, you may just drink a glass of water- the heavens generally aren’t too specific in their influence.

Cancer

   Yeah. That’s definitely cancer you have. Or crabs. Bad news either way, really. But it’s definitely something nasty.

Libra

   You know why the symbol for Libra is the scales? BECAUSE YOU’RE FAT. I blame all the chocolate covered bacon. It is freaking delicious.

Capricorn

   Did you know goats have rectangular pupils? I was freaked out when I first discovered this.

Scorpio

   [insert vague, but yet oddly specific prediction here, because no one cares about Scorpio. Except the guy I saw the other day. He had a tattoo of a scorpion all up his arm and it looked amazing. Otherwise, no one cares.]

Gemini

   True love awaits you at the homeless shelter. Mmmm… soup! Seriously though, they are tall, dark, scruffy, and your soul mate. Best of luck. Remember to have some spare change handy.

Aries

   Venus is in the twelfth house which means… Jesus, I’m fucked if I know what that means. I’m a blogger, not a fortune teller. Go get yourself some Pringles and quit worrying about the future, you’ll probably be fine.

Taurus

   You will meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger. That’s the good news. The bad news is that you’ll have lettuce between your teeth at the time. The other bad news is that he/she (women can be handsome too, y’know) will quite clearly see this. The other good news is that they won’t give a damn anyway, because you’ve got either a stellar personality, a great sense of humour- or more realistically, a nice rack and/or an impressive bank balance.

Leo

   The only Leo I know of is my older brother, so I better write something nice. Ok, here goes. You will have a fantastic week ahead of you. You will score fuckloads of free meals because dammit, we all know the way to your heart is through your stomach. Sleep will no longer evade you and you will wake every morning feeling refreshed. The weather will be surprisingly pleasant (mostly because you no longer live in Dunedin) and you’ll meet some babes. Work will be satisfying and enjoyable. Now, because I am a realist: pick just two of these outcomes.

Sagittarius

   You know what? Absolutely nothing of interest will happen in the next month or so. This can be a good thing depending on how you look at it. For example:

Bad things about nothing interesting happening this month:

·         You won’t be meeting the love of your life

·         You won’t win the lottery

·         You’ll be bored

Good things about nothing interesting happening this month:

·         You won’t get attacked by a horde of angry pensioners (because that would be interesting, though unpleasant)

·         You will not almost die of food poisoning after eating a dodgy grape

·         By the end of the month you will probably feel more grateful for the things in your life.

   Moral of the story: be Optimist Prime, not a Negatron.

Pisces

    Ah, Pisces. The star sign often regarded as being sensitive and thoughtful. You will read the wrong horoscope and feel optimistic because you thought you, too, would score some free meals until you realise you were reading about Leo. You will then feel a little disappointed, but then realise that the horoscope for Pisces does not say that you won’t score free meals, so the possibility remains. It’s stuff like that that makes your day sometimes.

Bellez Becomes an Agony Aunt

   So earlier this year, when I was writing for The Leaky Biro, our sort-of self-appointed editor wanted some more unusual humour. I suggested we start an advice column, in which I give the worst advice ever. He asked me to mock up some questions and answers, to see what I was capable of. Upon reading them, the idea was rejected outright.*

Ask Aunt “I’ll Agonise You!” Annabel

Dear Annabel

   There’s this boy at my school in the year above me who’s, like, amazing. I’d really like to ask him out, but last time I had the balls to ask someone else out, it turned out he had a girlfriend. It was really embarrassing. How can I find out if this guy has a girlfriend to save me any embarrassment in the future?

-Red Faced

Dear Red-Faced

   The answer is to, quite simply, stalk him. Follow him around everywhere. Around school. To the toilet. Freaking everywhere. If you catch him even looking at a girl, you know he’s taken. Avoid embarrassment in this way. Facebook stalking is a good idea too, though it tends to work better if he has an open profile.

-Annabel

Dear Annabel

   I took all your advice. Seriously. I stalked him to death, and not once did he look like he was into any other girls, so I took the plunge and asked him out. Turned out he batted for the other team. Yeah. He’s gay. Thanks a bunch.

-Red Faced

Dear Red Faced

   All the cute ones are.

-Annabel

Dear Annabel

   Ok, straight to the point, there’s this chick I know through Facebook, and she keeps texting me. Heaps. I know I shouldn’t have put my mobile number on my profile, but never mind that now. Why does she keep texting me? I’m not gay or anything, I do like female attention. But it’s so annoying! What does she want from me?

-Mr Popular

Dear Mr Popular

   She probably wants to have your babies. That or she’s trying to steal your wallet. Alternatively she could be using you to get to your friend, or older brother, even, that she likes. Who knows? Teenage girls can be a fickle bunch. If you want to get rid of her, try this: pretend that you’ve sold your phone to your uncle. Yes, the creepy one. If she texts you again, reply to her (in normal grammatical English, not txt language, so she doesn’t suspect it’s a teenage boy again) that you have recently purchased this phone from your nephew and that you are fifty-three years old. And bald. And fat. With a beard. That should stop any unwanted attention. If that appeals to her, your problem is far too big for me to solve- you’re on your own there mate.

-Annabel

Dear Annabel

   I’ve been in a relationship with this guy now for all of three months. Except there’s one problem. I don’t really like him anymore! I’ve never broken up with a guy before! How do I do it?

-Breakup Virgin

Dear Breakup Virgin

   There are many, many ways to break up with a guy. It all depends on context. For example, if he was just a plain old douchebag, no technique is more efficient in making the point quite like a good shovel to the face. If violence is not your thing, however, why not try getting with two of his best friends? In front of him? That tends to get the message across. Hopefully he won’t try to join in. If he does- run. It’s even more proof that he’s not the type you want to be with. Good luck!

-Annabel

*and by rejected outright, I mean everyone else supported the idea but him. It’s cool. That’s why my blog gets this special treat, and not the Biro.

How to be Sexy for Halloween

   This blog post is brought to you by The Concise Oxford Dictionary, 1983 edition. (Which is the one sitting next to my adoptive father’s chair, by the way, as my parents are avid crossword solvers, and my mum still hasn’t figured out you can Google things like I would.) No, Oxford did not pay for me to write this. (It would be nice if they had.) This post was merely inspired by them. And the dictionary.

Captivating bedtime reading, folks.

   More on that later, though.

   Now, although it was barely September when I started writing this (procrastinators gonna procrastinate) you probably know that if you want to have the best Halloween costume ever, you should have already started planning well in advance. If you were so dedicated, however, that you already knew that by now, you wouldn’t be coming to me for help, so you may as well get back to planning your slutty vampire outfit or whatever, while I cover the basics of Halloween costumes.

   Kiddies, I’m not talking about trick-or-treat costumes here. I’m talking about costumes for parties that are a little age-inappropriate for you. If you’re still young enough to trick-or-treat, it doesn’t really matter how cool you look. In fact, the more pathetic looking your costume is, the more adults will feel sorry for you and give you extra candy. So go on, chuck a sheet over your head and pretend to be a ghost. Parents will lap that shit up.

Eyeholes are an unnecessary luxury.  You won't get extra candy with them.

   I’d also like to point out that this advice is more relevant to women. Guys, it probably doesn’t matter what you dress up as, as long as you don’t vomit on the shoes of the girl dressed as the sexy policewoman, you should be fine.

   Ladies, I’m sure you’ve all heard the fashion rule that states that there’s nothing sexier than showing off just one body part at a time- just the legs OR the chest OR the back. However, this is Halloween. Ignore this rule completely. Show off a bit of leg, get your tits out and bare your midriff. Just make sure you expose as much skin as possible. Also, wear knee-high socks. Every slutty Halloween costume incorporates these somehow.

   Everyone also knows it’s a fashion faux pas to turn up to a party in the exact same outfit as someone else. If you don’t make an effort to look unique, you’re just going to turn up in the same dirty nurse costume as twelve other girls and we can’t have that, can we? In order to inspire us with some truly unique ideas, I have consulted the dictionary (also I may have just looked around the room) for some suggestions. Here is what I’ve come up with:

The Sexy Road Cone

Mmmm... traffic.

  This is a unique choice for a Halloween costume, not because road cones aren’t sexy (they are) but because orange is one of those colours that is difficult for a lot of people to wear. Especially redheads like myself. It clashes with my hair. Regardless, this is one worth trying. You can even make it a tribute to Madonna’s iconic cone bra.

Sexy rating: 6/10

Unique rating: 6.5/10

The Playboy Bunny

You don't want to know how long I spent shading her inner thighs when drawing this.

   I decided to include this one because there is always someone every year who turns up in a playboy costume. And also because I happen to have a picture of Hannah in a costume that I’d drawn- by request, thank you very much. It’s not very original, but as it’s a near-universal symbol of debauchery, that should matter too much.

Sexy rating: 8.5/10

Unique rating: 2/10

Sexy “Sexy Costume”

So I may have just Googled "Nude model" and been brave enough to turn Safe Search off to find this girl, then covered her up in MS Paint. Damn I'm a smart cookie.

   Turn up in a bikini and stilettos. If anyone asks what you’re trying to be, tell them “sexy.” May as well just cut to the chase.

Sexy rating: 9/10

Unique rating: 8.5/10- let's be honest, no one's thought of this very often.

...and one for the boys...

Sexy Werewolf

Jacob had little say in this, I imagine.

  

   Hannah’s actually planning to make her boyfriend wear this costume. (The picture is by her.) Personally, I don’t know how long that costume’s going to stay on him though. Half a minute is my guess. Men, if you have the body to go shirtless, this is how you do sexy for Halloween. With half the female population going mental over werewolves and vampires after Twishite, you’ll probably impress someone in this. Unless you have a beer gut. And you puked all over their shoes.

Annabel goes to the formal, burns a kitchen

   So in the weekend, I attended the school formal. As an aside, I looked pretty darn good, too.



Damn good, indeed.

   The formal went wonderfully, everyone looked great and had fun, no one got kicked out for turning up intoxicated, etc. So, a wonderful night. Yes. But that is not really what this blog post is about.


   After the formal, there is always an official afterparty. For, I presume, legal reasons, I must constantly clarify that the school actually has nothing to do with the afterparty; just that it is organised by some of our students, and tickets are sold at school, much like the private 18th parties we have here. (Everyone pays up to $10 for an 18th ticket, and that barely covers the costs involved, and I didn’t have one for my 18th. Afterparty tickets, on the other hand, are around $40, so they can afford to do a pretty good job with it.) Again, I’d like to clarify that the school is not involved at all with the afterparty, it is a private function, and as such, minors may bring alcohol with their parents’ permission.

   Let’s also clarify, I am not a minor.

   There is, however, an alcohol limit- four RTDs (must be below a certain alcohol percentage), six beers or one bottle of wine. If you are serious about your drinking, you will realise that, short of smuggling in a hip flask between your breasts (as one girl did a previous year, and let me assure you, she got caught) you will quickly realise that the wine is probably the most alcohol you can bring. In our binge-drinking culture in New Zealand, one might expect that everyone would bring the bottle of wine: the advantages to the seasoned binger are obvious: they can be cheap as chips and are an effective way of getting trashed, if you so desire. However, a majority of our binge drinkers are like this:



Keep it classy.

   These… "drinkers" will not touch wine with a ten-foot bargepole, let alone their mouth. They are not drinking alcohol to enjoy the flavour- you can get fizzy drinks that taste the same. They are drinking with the sole intention of getting as wasted as humanly possible. Keep it classy, yo. Anyway, no matter how dedicated they claim they are to drinking, they wouldn’t be caught dead (or, more likely, passed out and surrounded by their own putrid vomit) with a bottle of wine because “ewww, wine tastes disgusting!” On the contrary, I quite enjoy a nice glass of chardonnay.


   I had no intention of getting trashed at the afterparty. Mostly because my mother had kindly offered to take me home from it when it finished at around six in the morning. (To be fair, it started at one, so that’s not half as bad as it sounds.) I just wanted to have a few drinks, dance terribly and have fun. So no, I did not bring my bottle of cabernet sauvignon just to get wasted and be tagged by people I don't like in a whole lot of photos on Facebook (as a small consolation, at least I’ll be the most sober one in the pictures, but once you’ve been drinking red wine from a bottle because no plastic cups appeared to be provided, your lips are generally stained a dark purple and you don’t look too sexy by then anyway) and had quite a bit of fun. But the night was long, so I had some more of the wine, and next thing I knew, I was getting into my mother’s car at quarter to six in the morning, giggling loudly. I was rather more intoxicated than I intended to be.

   Upon arriving home, I decided what I needed more than anything was pasta. Unfortunately, in my somewhat impaired state, cooking pasta was not something I was altogether capable of. (My drunk texts to my brother’s friend, which I discovered the next morning, showed that I clearly believed otherwise at the time.) I got a pot of water boiling , put in some spaghetti and waited for it to cook. I also realised I had been dancing for approximately ten hours, if we also include the formal into our calculations, and I wanted to lie down for a second because my feet were sore. You can already see what a disaster this was going to be.

   To cut a long story short, I was awoken some hours later by my mother who informed me that I’d fallen asleep and the kitchen was full of smoke, but that thank god there wasn’t a fire, and that she’d saved the day. My brother persuaded me afterward that microwavable drunk food could be the way to go, except for the possibility of accidentally putting metal in the microwave. I have decided that next time, I might just make a stop at Fergburger instead.

Skanks

   I strongly dislike the word “slut”- it is often misused, and I don’t like the idea of labelling someone- especially a woman, promiscuous. It is none of my business what she does with her vagina. After all, if she’s not being called a whore, she’s being called a frigid prude. Seems like you can’t win either way. However, as far as the “s-word” goes, there is one case in which I find it to be applicable: the extremely sexually active thirteen year old girl.

   Oh god. Look, I’ve grown up in Queenstown. At New Years and Winter Festival, I’ve witnessed these kids (lets not kid ourselves and call them “young ladies”) and their unusual… er… courtship rituals. The epitome of what they are all striving to be is this: the attention whore. In fact, out of the goodness of my heart, I shall now provide you with a simple guide to being a young, teenaged, (attention) whore.

1. Don’t wash for a bit. You want your multicoloured hair and cheap extensions to look really ratty and greasy and gross. This shows that you are shunning the mainstream idea of sanitation and are thus edgy, cool, and unique, just like all of your friends.


2. Clothing. Ideally, this should cover as little of you as possible. In order to reveal more skin, why not add a few strategically placed rips, tears and holes (i.e. all the way up the legs of your obnoxiously bright skinny jeans) or even forgo pants altogether and just wear an oversized t-shirt that references some social movement that you neither understand nor care about. Ripped tights are also a great way to flash more flesh- the hottest look is to have your cellulite oozing through a pair of fishnets. Keep it classy, yo.

3. Makeup. This is hugely important, as it offers a way to cover your flaws (and everything else, with a one inch thick cake of crap on your face) and also express your personality with yet more bright, obnoxious colours.
   First start with discount dollar store false lashes. Don’t worry if you fail sticking them on and get eyelash glue all over your eyelids, it will soon all be covered by makeup anyway.
   Now apply eyeshadow. I recommend a fluorescent pink- that way, its not only awfully bright, but it has the added advantage of making you look stoned, too.
   Now for eyeliner. The look you’re after is “panda.” Don’t worry, if you think you’ve overdone it, you just probably haven’t applied nearly enough. Add more.
   Now finish with some bronzer for a “healthy glow.” Except after you’ve paid $59.95 for Thin Lizzy, it better give you a lot more than a healthy glow. Your skin ought to be a good five to six shades darker than usual.
   Lipgloss is optional, but if you wear it, make sure it’s a classy shade of Barbie pink and a lovely, sticky texture like industrial strength glue.




Your makeup inspiration.


4. Accessories. The following are suitable:

• Gum. Lots of it. The louder you chew, the more attention you will receive.
• A cellphone, preferably with a camera. (For sexting.)
• Dozens of brightly coloured hair clips/bows. Wear all of these at once to show how revolutionary and original you are by breaking fashion rules.
• Jelly bracelets. Encourage others to snap them.
• Heels that you can’t quite walk in, so that when you do, you’ll be forced to wobble everywhere. This brings attention to your ass and thighs.
• Lots of tampons. Keep them in your handbag and regularly drop it in public so they spill out everywhere in full view. This will make it clear to everyone that you have a vagina.
• A poorly covered up lovebite. Or three.

   Congratulations. You now look the part of the young, teenaged, (attention) whore. Of course, you still need the attitude to match, but this shall be dealt with at a later date.
   Get whoring!