Friday's Favorite FanFic Finds: Your Guide To The Most Insane(ly Awesome!) FanFic On The Web [Part 1]

There is nothing that elicits a quicker physical reaction from me (namely, tears: of joy, of fear, of oh my good lord I cannot believe this shit!) than reading fanfiction. There is something so amazing, so perversely wrong and yet so right about it.

It all started back in high school with an internet connection, an enabling best friend, and an embarrassing love for the band Hanson. (And parents worry their children will be peer pressured into drugs! They'd do better worrying about their child being pressured into loving teenybop pop!)

I have never been so emotionally traumatized reading a piece of fiction (with the plausible exception of that Tom Wolfe piece of shit I am Charlotte Simmons) than when reading the workings of the demented minds of the uberfans.

And now, I'm pleased to pass along that traumatic experience to you! (Because what is DivMo good for if not scarring its readers!?!)

I give you my favorite fanfic finds of the day:

Jon Stewart & Steven Colbert

Feels Like a Lie
by Marginaliana

Jon stepped back, releasing Stephen from the strange but not unpleasant pressure of his body. “I just… I started to realize that all this bullshit – the pizza, and the playing footsie, and the back and forth—I was really putting something into it. I wanted,” he corrected himself, “I want it to be real. As for why… how can you doubt yourself? That eyebrow is too sexy.” He grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. All this had hit too close to home for Stephen to know what to say. After a moment, Jon’s shoulders slumped and he turned away. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

Miss Piggy & Snape

Severus Snape and the Muppetational Horcrux
by Marginaliana

"Kissy, kissy!" Piggy pressed herself more firmly against him, cuddling, and her hands slid down to the top of his buttocks. She was almost as agile as that Heffalump... well. The less said about that the better. Snape nearly reached for his wand but stopped short as he remembered the Potter brat's final ultimatum. Even though he'd proven even to the most vociferous of his detractors that Albus' killing had been on Albus' own orders, Potter had irrationally refused to cut him any slack whatsoever...

Bonus: Five Bizarrely Plausible Harry Potter/Muppets Crossover Romances

Justin Timberlake

The Nightmare that was... Justin Timberlake!
by Jimee

I looked up at this man and saw that it was to my horror Justin Timberlake! I screamed and started to run onto the jetty (now that I think about it was not a good idea), he followed closely behind me singing and dancing and what made it worse he was doing the worst dance moves ever! I ran all the way down the jetty screaming for help, but no one was there. I was alone, on a jetty and being chased by Justin Timberlake, my life couldnt get any worse, but to my surprise it did, it started to rain, how cliche.

Hanson

Breakthrough or Breakdown
by tumbling_down

Summery [sic]:
The present day is set in New York City, 2007. Taylor's a prostitute/drug addict/fucked up idiot and Zac's trying to find him. We're slowly finding out what happened to make Taylor run away while seeing what he has to deal with at present day. Expect drugs, sex, annorexia, self injury, and any other thing you would expect from one of my fics.

The Beatles

A Hard Days Night Of The Living Dead
by distant_karma

“You’ve been ill John,” George said gently “out of your head for days. Don‘t you remember?”

“Remember what?” John snapped “the last thing I remember is going to bed last night, and you,” he said pointing at Ringo “were already there, but when I woke up this morning you were gone and I was in a different room and Christ is this a different bloody suite?!” he cried suddenly realizing that he didn’t recognize this room either. “What the hell is going on?!” he demanded “And where in the hell are my clothes?!” ...

“In the incinerator along with the bed linens and sheets,” Paul said “and the mattress too I think. Why do you think you’re in a new room, they had to disinfect the other.”

“Disinfect,” John said distastefully “Christ, what the hell did I have? Bloody Black Plague?!”

Paul sighed. “Well, yeah” he said softly “now that you mention it.”

And that’s when they told him about the virus.

It's OK John Lennon, I have the virus too!

I'm going to make this Friday FanFic Funtime a regular feature so leave your requests in the comments. I like a challenge.

(NB: "Please make it stop!" is not a valid request. I believe there's random-ass fanfic about every celeb on this earth. And I will make it my mission to discover the randomest of them all!)

Notes From The Couch: A Heavily Medicated Tour Of Daytime TV

There is nothing that brings a person closer to their television set than never-ending illness (12 days and counting!).

As it turns out, the chain-smoking-granny- cum -SPED voice effects I was experiencing were due to a prolonged case of bronchitis with a splash of walking pneumonia--just to spice things up.

Good times.

But who am I if not a consummate silver lining seeker?

What's one person's serious illness is another's opportunity to live in her pajamas and catch up on all the freaky shit on TV she misses while at work.

And boy is there some good television out there.

I first present you with my favorite new find in the children's programming department: Nickelodeon's Yo Gabba Gabba

Hyped on both Jezebel and Stereogum, Yo Gabba Gabba is every bit as crazy and brilliantly drug-trippy as its title suggests. Just check out this clip of "The Party in My Tummy Song" to join the cult:

Aside from acid/heavy antibiotics-tripping with the Gabba Gabba crew, my other TV pursuits included several true-life specials: My Wedding Day Ruined My Life; Four Weddings and an Execution (Oh yes, that was about ladies marrying violent death row criminals); Made: I Want to be a Male Model (from a chubby, hairy and totally adorable lead singer of a metal band); Made: I Want to be a Fashion Designer (from a boy in dire need of ADD meds); about four hours of Kathy Griffin stand up, and unaccountable time spent in the black hole of the ANTM marathon.

One of the bright spots of Couch Camp Day 2 was stumbling upon 2 previously unseen episodes of one of my favorite underrated reality BFF shows: Rob & Big. It's the touching story of a pro-skater and his giant body guard doing all the crazy shit I would do if I had tons of cash at my disposal and a partner-in-crime: buying a miniature horse, taking elaborate family photos with the dog, buying time traveling equipment from crazies on the internet and then actually flying to Canada just to get some other crazy in a basement to help them use it...

And waking up one day and saying "Hey, I want to be a one hit wonder!" And then making a bad ass music video for said "hit":

Good times indeed.

Passive Aggressive Tuesdays: Dirty Dishes! Blow Dryers! And Surveillance Cameras! Oh My!!!

Being a big fan of Passive Aggressive Notes.com, I was thrilled to receive my very own submission-worthy note this morning sent via email from our office manager. Her passive aggressive/aggressively threatening emails have always been well prized in our office. Must be the masochist-with-daddy-issues within all of us.

I also love that this "cleaner/organizer" advertised in the subject line makes waaaaaay more than I do per hour. Perhaps I should send in a resume.

[Full text below after the screen grab.]

Subject: cleaner/organizer wanted - $77 per HOUR

Or how about washing, drying, and putting away what you use because it’s the right thing to do?

Aside from the usual dirty dishes//cups/utensils (that are currently in the kitchen), there are also coffee/tea and milk/other beverage containers hanging around the floor and on the counter. If you cleaned them out and left them there to dry, you might want to take the covers off and place them upside down in the strainer or get out a blow dryer. The dishwasher/dish washer is on the blink so you’ll have to take care of your own dirty dishes, etc. The faucet does work.

Next: put them away.

You won’t be getting anymore emails once we get the surveillance camera is installed.

Your Monday Morning Diversions: Rapping and Retards [It's Going To Be An Interesting Week]

First up, I give you the latest creation from the WGA writers on the picket line. You know shit's getting serious when the WGA gang signs are thrown. I just pray the talks today resolve happily for the writers before this erupts into an all-out street war. [United Hollywood]

And for your next bit of entertainment...

In honor of my voice's condition being upgraded from sounding like a 10-pack-a-day dirty old hooker to a more respectable (or at least audible) "They're laughing at me Daniel!"-level, I give you one more reason to love YouTube:

The Other Sister, As Reenacted by Retarded Barbie Dolls

Um, amazing. For the likewise obsessed, there's also a Part 1 (where they do it!) and a Part 3 (where Disney's Mulan, Emma "Baby Spice" Bunton, and The Beast from Beauty and the Beast make cameos to prove Daniel has more than one "Love Secret." Way to go off script kids!)

Pushing Television: The Best Show On TV You're Probably Not Watching (But Should!)

It doesn't take much to get me to watch a TV show. I count Canadian pre-teen soap operas and public television ESL programming among my favorites, and have shouted "A clue! A clue!" along with the youngest of them. But my love of bad for bad's sake is primarily because there is very little on television that is genuinely good, and a girl's gotta love something.

Winning my genuine love is not very complicated and follows a very simple formula:

Cute male lead + Palpable sexual tension + Decent writing = Yay! Heart! Heart! Heart!

See, I told you that was simple. And yet, so many shows fail to come through. At least that's the excuse I give for why I've never been into Seinfeld--because uh, Jerry is so not doable and the only sexual tension there might have been between Kramer and a bagel.

Now let's apply this formula to ABC's new series Pushing Daisies:

Cute male lead?

Check!
Sexual Tension?

Check! (Ned brings his childhood sweetheart back from the dead, only to never be able to touch her again without turning her back into a corpse. That doesn't prevent them from making out with plastic wrap though. You can't get much more tension than that!)


And double check! (To add to the hotness, Ned's coworker Olive Snook has the hots for him too. Uh, who wouldn't? Lee Pace is dreamy!)


And as for the writing, just check out this preview and I dare you not to be completely enchanted. The aesthetic is an Americanized Amelie with pie. What could be better than that?



You can catch up on all the episodes you've missed over at the ABC website. They haven't mastered the uninterrupted streaming yet, but it's worth sitting through the occasional glitchiness.

Now let's just keep our fingers crossed that this writers strike gets resolved when they sit down at the table with the executive fat cats on Monday so we'll have a show to continue falling in love with on Wednesday nights. The final pre-strike episode airs at 9 p.m. this week.

Something That Sounds As Bad As I Feel: Covered Fall Out Boy's Tango Of Death

Since my voice (and sexiness level) are feeling about here right now...

And because misery loves company, I now present you with an interpretive dance (with the "stars"!) of my current illness, as scored by arguably the worst Fall Out Boy cover of "The Take Over, The Break's Over" (which ah, really should have at least a semi-colon in there; but whatevs). And it will remain the worst cover until my throat goblins clear out and I hit the karaoke circuits again.

Feel my pain:

Cough and nod go to:

Idolator [Wtf: Who Knew That You Could Tango To Fall Out Boy?]

Your Lunch-Time Hypocrite Sandwich: The Daily Show Writers Do What They Do Best, Call Bullshit On Greedy Viacom Fuckwits

For your next installment of why this writers' strike is so fucking ridiculous (the ridiculous part being the need for the writers to have to fight to get paid for the content THEY develop, which according to Viacom vs. Google is work 1 BILLION dollars), I give you "Not The Daily Show" by The Daily Show writers:



I am so sick of these corporate conglomerates following dinosaur business models to screw over their customers and their talent in a bald attempt to squeeze as much money out of us as they possibly can, ahem... music labels: I'm talking to you too.

New technology and adaptation are going to happen no matter how many lawsuits you throw at them. I'd say "Grow the fuck up already" but that would be tantamount to saying "Die already" to these ancient CEOs. But that would be ageism. And ageism is wrong. And illegal. Just ask Micheal Scott.

But if this strike carries on for much longer and causes something unthinkably horrible to happen--like the cancellation of "The Office" that I've been hearing whispers about--my moratorium on the death threats is off.

If you'd like to learn more about the Writers' Strike check out its unofficial blog: United Hollywood written by a group of strike captains. And here is the online petition you can sign to show your support. (I was #52,560.)

UPDATE: For those who'd like to follow the strike from the East Coast perspective, Strike Points is a great resource.

*Hat tip to Boing Boing for the video link. (Because, I actually give credit where it is due.)

The Emo Carebear In Me Got To Pick Friday Night's Concert: The Winner? Fall Out Boy, Natch.

In a concerted effort to eradicate any indie hipster cred I might have garnered by writing about the Sufjan show at the BAM, I will now regale you with the tale of my Friday night adventure into the heart of Massachusetts (Lowell's Tsongas Arena) to see Fall Out Boy on the back end of their Infinity on High promotional tour.

I'd never been to the Tsongas Arena before and I was pleasantly surprised to see how freaking rowdy the crowd was--contributed in great part to the G.A.-every-seat-for-itself layout. Not being tied down to a specific seating assignment freed up time for other activities like crowd surfing and using the sailor-leg technique to shove your way to the front. Though the crowd was so young that the probability of finding a passable fake id among them was laughably low, they sure knew how to throw their weight around--which lead to the most awesome confrontation I ever had the pleasure of witnessing. One day, when DivMo is raking in the big bucks, I'll spring for some reenactment actors for all of my dramatic story re-tellings. For now you'll just have to use your imagination:

The Players:

Bleach-blond Lowell Roughneck Chick
vs.
Blue Sweatband-sporting Teal and Hot Pink-striped Eyeshadow Wearing Chick on a Cell Phone

The Dramatic Tension:

Sweatband Chick is swaggering her way through to the front of the crowd, gabbing away, elbows flying. But Oh No! Bleach-blond Roughneck Chick will not be having any of that! Hells fucking no! She puts up the block like a professional linebacker.

Words are Exchanged:

"Excuse me!" said Shovey McFashion Victim.

"No, excuse you! You can't be pushing on people like that! I'm going to beat your ass!" said Bleachy.

"You better watch yourself, I'm a 3rd degree black belt! I can take you down!" retorted Shovey Bandy Head.

"Oh yeah! You should try it! Look, she's walking away! She's scared because I could kick her ass any day!" triumphed Ms. Where I'm From, Bitches Get Stabbed For Less Than This Bullshit

Prize for Most Escher-ific Pot/Kettle Retort After the Fact:

Bleachy's friend:

"What a moron! How can you have 3 black belts? God she's dumb."

But the Best Part of It All:

Was seeing the look of horror on the faces of the three 10-year-olds I was standing next to as they watch it all go down. I opted for the less subtle full hand covering my face because I was laughing that hard look.

Entertaining drama aside, I was impressed and pleased with the rowdiness of the crowd. It gave me a glimmer into what a FOB show must have been like back in their punkier small-club days before their biggest fans need mom to chaperon. They even started up a circle pit, led by a friend of FOB with Pete Wentz's warning to "watch it with the ninja kicks." (I wonder if Shovey 3-Blackbeltserson got that memo.)

You can see the circle pit madness for yourself in the first few seconds of this clip of "I Slept With Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me." (Yeah, so maybe I just like them for the titles.)



And if you have a hankering for some emotastic lyrics, look no further that FOB's acoustic breakdown of "Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner." Nothing compliments the line "So wear me like a locket around your throat/I'll weigh you down; I'll watch you choke/You look so good in blue..." quite like a little tambourine.



And for the prerequisite cover of the evening (my favorite part of most shows), FOB decided to go for The Killer's "Mr. Brightside," which is a particularly entertaining choice given Brandon Flower's feelings about the dangers of Fall Out Boy. [Insert eye roll here.] I'm going to go ahead and argue: 1) I like Fall Out Boy's version better; 2)The Miss Susie Had a Steamboat-ness of the lyric "Now they're going to bed and my stomach is sick/And it's all in my head but she's touching his--chest" is classic Fall Out Boy punnery and the song should therefore be handed over to them; 3) Brandon Flowers is a douche

See for yourself:



And if you're not sick of reading about Fall Out Boy yet, I'm not the only blogger in the 'sphere racking up the word count about them. The well-respected and widely-read* music blog Idolator has been getting a little post happy about the boys as well, thanks in part to editor Maura Johnston's shared love for lead-singer Patrick Stump.

Teenage Girls (And There Mothers) Line Up To Meet, Potentially Defile Pete Wentz (with some amazing video of the kinds of girls who go to these shows)

Fall Out Boy's Thighs: Because Naked Fergie Wasn't Enough Today (Senior Idolator editor Jess Harvell does some hard-hitting investigatory research into the underground world of Patrick Stump Thigh Worship. Yes, you read that right. There is actually a Livejournal site AND a YouTube tribute video dedicated solely to the ample abundance of le sexy that are the thighs of Patrick Stump.

What can I say? I'm a crazy fan's biggest fan.

*At least in comparison to DivMo, which receives Rodney Dangerfield-levels of respect and the occasional accidental hit from someone looking for "people having sex with animals" or "bon jovi bald" or "break up suicide"--I shit you not: ask my Google Analytics!

Mandatory Viewing: Treasure Path Promo

Unlike the B.S. definition of "promotions" that the evil Hollywood corporate-types are using to screw their writers out of actually getting paid for the work they do (gee whiz! what a novel idea!), I now present you with a real promotion made by Anthony Knasas for his feature-length script Treasure Path.

I first saw this promo a few months ago at a friend's apartment (full discloz: Anthony's a friend of a friend) and I've been minorly obsessed with it ever since. Now that it's finally up on YouTube, I can share it with all of the big time movie investors who read this blog with the mandate that someone must must must make this movie. Because I would totally go see it. Though knowing my tastes, I'm not sure how much of an endorsement that really is...

But if you have cash to burn, email Anthony at eagleeye781@hotmail.com. And if you only have time to burn, watch both parts of the promo. (About 3 minutes in to Part 2 is my all-time favorite scene.)

Part 1


Part 2

They Tried To Make Me Go To Rehab... And I Said "Yeah, That Sounds Like A Good Idea"

Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, Amy Winehouse... Shia LeMotherfuckingBeef (!)

All the cool kids are doing it--or at least, desperately needing it. And it's making me want to get in on this rehab action. To get that "sobering experience" LiLo talked so fondly of. (Ed: Can't you see my cry for help from within my fragments and dangling participles? If that does say "rock bottom," well then maybe I'm just a little more well-adjusted than I'd like to admit.)

I may not be famous or rich or actually perpetually wastyface enough to warrant rehab, but a girl can dream. And any dreaming girl with a good imagination and a digital camera with a swivel display that allows for easy self portraits can find herself in possession of her very own glamorous celebrity mugshot:

(Something in the eyes looks familiar, but I just can't place it...)

From the official police report of the events leading up to this fateful mugshot:

"Ms. Triggs narrowly escaped police custody after instigating a brawl at The Waffle House by egging on a debate between Kid Rock and a local man as to which was the more awesomer alien: ET or Alf. While Ms. Triggs and Rock sided with Alf, the local man disagreed, at which point Ms. Triggs encouraged Rock to "kungfu chop his ass" before fleeing the scene. Later that day she was spotted in a fancy restaurant passing a forged note to Fabio that read: "Dear Fabio, You are fat. Love, George Clooney." Again, Ms. Triggs managed to escape the scene before being placed into custody. Ms. Triggs was spotted for a third time much later that night making balloon animals with Shia LeBeouf in the back of a Walgreens. When the night manager asked them to leave, Ms. Triggs fashioned a balloon sword for LeBeouf and told him to "go get 'em, Champ!" before exiting the scene. Ms. Triggs was finally apprehended in the early hours of the morning when authorities found her napping inside the Statue of Liberty's torch. She has since been self-sentenced to 30 days sans-boozing. Prominent legal experts say that, although it is unorthodox for a defendant to also have the judicial power to sentence herself, it is like totally legally binding because she's like, just making this all up anyways."

30 days. Starting... er, yesterday. So from now until December 7th all poor choices in grammar, diction, general bizarro subject matter or dearth of posting cannot be blamed on the boozing. (Though I'm sure I'll come up with another suitable excuse soon enough.)

Here's to a happier liver and some extra cash to fund my alien trucker hat addition!

Sufjan Stevens Takes Us On A Tour Of The Brooklyn-Queens Expressway: Time Lapse Video, Hula Hoopers, and Giant Wings--Oh My!

Well, I promised you a gushfest.

Just be thankful I had a full two days of limited computer access during which time I could divert some of that overflowing enthusiasm into wandering around the Guggenheim and lunching in Little Italy. Otherwise you would have gotten my first reaction after seeing the show, which was to send a gloating text message to my brother: BEST. CONCERT. EVER. And saying something along the lines of: "OMG I want his babiez!*SQUEE!* Heart! Heart! Heart!" to my fellow concert-goer. (In all fairness, she totally felt the same way.)

But just because biology/society/my own (charming) psychosis makes it virtually impossible for me to love something without wanting to procreate with it (the coffee bean and I would make an adorable baby, me thinks) does not diminish the fact that this concert kicked. serious. ass.

Going into it I thought I might need to rely on the "aw, isn't he cute?/at least the second half will be stuff I like" factor to get me through the first part; The BQE is a 30-minute orchestral piece about a road, after all. Having once edited a book on the history of the Orlando-Orange County Expressway (back in a time when I thought hearts and frownie-faces were acceptable editor's marks--and trust me, the margins looked like a pessimist convention by the time I was through marking it up!) I know how (non)exciting roadways can be.

But the moment the showed opened with a bold font projected across the red velvet curtains announcing The BQE had arrived, I knew this was going to be cooler than a few violins swelling poetic around a highway median.

[Much much thanks to metrolens who took these pictures]

Once the curtains rose, the stage was divided by the projection screen above and the orchestra below with Sufjan sitting at the piano on the right side of the stage. The projection screen itself was split into a triptych of images of New York: the weary faces of apartment buildings, a collision of colorful signs, a giant gorilla waving from a car dealership lot. Oh, and hula hoopers.

Not only hula hooping on the video, but live in the theater. There were 5 hoopers: 2 boys and 3 girls who came out as the screen went down, hiding the still-playing orchestra and showing off their moves. (Where there's a will, there's a YouTube video. Check it out for yourself below.)



Sufjan picked the circular hula hoop as the central image, writing in the program:

"As a symbolic construction, the hoop is an existential goldmine. Insulated against the world, the hooper resides within a circular plane, a tube of plastic, shielding himself against the world. Like the driver of an automobile, the hooper is contained within a physical habitat, a moving object, the hoop."

Not only is it interesting as an analogy, it's pretty damn hilarious. One of my favorite things about Sufjan's work is his sense of humor: Like when he intentionally mispronounced his name as "Soof-john" when he first introduced himself (which caused audible confusion in the audience: But wait! I've been snootily correcting it to Soof-yan! How can I face all the plebs--er, my friends now!).

Sufjan started the second half of his set "Sufjan Plays the Hits"--with a little laugh at the idea of calling them "the hits"--with "Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois" the first track off Illinois. After a mix of songs from Illinois and Greetings from Michigan, (including "Oh Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)" and "Jacksonville" and new track "Barn Owl, Night Killer"), Sufjan played his two biggest emotionally heavy-hitting songs off Illinois: "John Wayne Gacy, Jr" and "Casimir Pulaski Day."

After finishing "John Wayne Gacy, Jr", Sufjan explained awkwardly that he cut out some of the lines ("He took off all their clothes for them/He put a cloth on their lips/Quiet hands quiet kiss") because he couldn't sustain the crisis needed to sing the song anymore and thought it should be retired. This announcement was met with some claps and some noises of disapproval (I guess you could say "light boos" though that sounds kinda funny). I really respect an artist that can emotionally live in their work as they perform it; and Gacy is such an intense song, I don't blame him for wanting to retire it from his performances. And hey, I got to see it; so what do I care if he never plays it again? Haha.

Sufjan took song banter to the next level by putting his MFA in creative writing to good use and writing a short story "Toilet Paper Dolls by Sufjan Stevens" to introduce "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us!" and through the magic of the internet, I don't have to hazily retype the gist, I can just post it here:



The highlight of the "hits" section for me was hearing the unreleased "Majesty Snowbird," which he dedicated to anyone named Marzuki Stevens (his brother was running in the New York Marathon that weekend). It's a gorgeous song that packed such a punch, the "Chicago" closer felt like an afterthought. I couldn't find a clip from The BQE performance, but this will give you a taste for it (he wore wings for this performance too!)



So do I stand by my previous gushy "BEST. CONCERT. EVER." text? You're damn right I do. And now that I've created this blog-pastiche of the highlights for you, it might just be your favorite concert that you never attended.

Sufjan! Tonight!

Sufjan! Tonight! I'm pumped!

Review (OK, let's be honest: gushfest) forthcoming.

Hallowinner: Favorite Costumes of 2007

In honor of my favorite holiday, I give you my favorite Halloween pics from '07.

My Halloween costume this year was inspired by a Google image search for emo-related images. (Ah, when am I not searching for emo-related material?)

I now present, "Cheerleader Meets Emo Carebear, Emo Carebear Pouts."


Emo Carebear Loves Taking MySpace Pics of Herself! (Note the tears, safety pin piercings)




"Emo Carebear Rocks the Product Placement, Surly Disposition Upon Meeting Gay Dumbledore"


Little Miss Sunshine!


And this is when we staged 'To Catch a Predator' in my kitchen... Yikes!


And because one Halloween costume party isn't enough, I now present you with my 10 Commandments-inspired look for FNX's 1987 Walk Like an Egyptian Prom last night:


Patty gives great mohawk. We're going to open up a specialty mohawk shop named The Angry Couch inspired by our favorite Hartford haircuttery. (Best. Mission. Statement. Ever.)


I can't think of a better way to celebrate Halloween than attending an 80s prom. (Bonus! Where's Waldo in this picture?)


Hope you all had a rocking good time. Leave me your favorite costume sightings in the comments!