That's just my baby daddy

I'm terrible at Halloween. Each year, I deliver the most uninspired "costumes" known to man, if I bother to dress up at all. This year, I was prepared to sit at home and watch Night of the Living Dead while eating a year's supply of Reese's cups, but a last-minute house guest had me digging through my closet at 9:30pm for any semblance of a Halloween costume.

Although I could've easily joined the ranks of the 13,549 Sarah Palins wandering about that night, I knew I would've given myself a headache trying to do the voice. Plus I didn't want to get shot. And so, after ten minutes routing around through my closet, I emerged as a pregnant prom queen. (I'll admit to being somewhat inspired by my recent high school reunion on this one.) I put on an old evening gown and some tacky silver shoes once purchased for a wedding, tossed a small throw pillow under my dress, teased my hair, and popped in about 5 pieces of chewing gum, which I proceeded to snap obnoxiously all night long.

It was met with rave reviews, and was apparently pretty realistic, judging by the two older ladies who stood slack-jawed at the bar as they watched me prop my beer on my faux belly. They were so offended that they even left the bar, although that may have been more immediately prompted by my fiance, the "corrupt cop", doing lines of flour off the pool table with a Cobra Kai student.