>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
October 10, 2004

As most of you know through my shallow Canadian jokes about my dad, I am part Canadian. Therefore I wish to make a brief statement to my Canadian relatives up North. Sorry I couldn't make it up there this year guys, but the gift basket you sent full of Molson beer and hockey pucks was such a nice touch. Happy Thanksgiving Canada.

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Since Thanksgiving for us Americans is a month away, let's focus more closely on the holiday that is right around the corner. I wanted to get this article out there before any of the other writers at PIC decided to bash college chicks for dressing up like angel whores, devil whores, and butterfly whores. So let me get it out of the way now and try to justify why girls wear the sluttiest outfit possible on Halloween.

Because we can. Without judgment. Look like….

Strippers.

Halloween brings out the stripper in us all. And guys don't even complain about it for one second because you know you love it. Even in elementary school I remember all my little girlfriends wanted to be sluttified for the national candy festival. But the closest we ever got to looking like strippers was Ballerina Barbie or Hula Girl. Except for me. My mom made me go as toothpaste, and instead of giving out candy she handed out little tubes of crest toothpaste and mini travel toothbrushes. Who was the coolest girl in the neighborhood? Not me that's for damn sure.

Enough about my childhood, I'll save that for this week's therapy appointment. Getting back to chicks dressing up, I hate when you ask girls what they're going to be for Halloween and they reply with something like, “Oh I'm going to be a nurse.” No you're not. Nurses wear tight, binding collars that button all the way to the top of the neck, white pantyhose, chunky white sneakers, and carry around long hypodermic needles. You're wearing a white mini-dress that unbuttons down to your navel, and five-inch stilettos heels and a stethoscope. You're not a nurse. You're a stripper nurse.

“I'm going to be little bo-peep.”

No, you're going to be stripper little bo-peep. Because in all the pictures I have ever seen in my fairy-tale books, Miss Peep's dress travels down to the floor. Yours barely covers your cooter. You're not out there attempting to tend sheep, but rather that other animal that rhymes with rock.

I think all college girls secretly want to be strippers. Seriously, every time we see a flagpole we want to wrap our legs around it and swing from it more graceful than a well-coordinated monkey. Guys have to scratch their butt, we have to swing on poles. While chicks can heel the urge to do a poll dance in public, guys can't stop the butt scratching urges. Especially the one guy at the dining hall that likes to scratch his butt, sniff it, then spend 10 minutes picking out the perfect tomatoes.

Again I go into weird tangents. All the girls at work decided to do a Moulin Rouge theme at work this year for Halloween, but none of them wanted to spend bucks on a costume. It will be interesting to see what they wear to pass off as children of the revolution using only clothes from Forever 21 and American Eagle.

While chicks wear outfits that double as stripper, guys costumes are always either super creative or super lame. It's either drag queen or sports player. I hate it when hockey players get dressed up in their jerseys and go to a party as hockey players. How fucking lame. Chicks are dressing up to get laid kinky-style and you throw on a smelly shirt? Where is the fairness factor there? Non-existent, and I guess it's because most sport players never really have to try to get laid anyway. Especially hockey players. Especially on this campus. Actually on every campus come to think of it.

Cheap shot.

Anyway, my favorite costume on guys is when they dress up like women. Men love to be in drag. It's best watching a frat guy dress up in a French Maid costume and attempt to walk around in heels. There he is, barely able to squeeze into the dress, his wang falling out the side, the feather duster in one hand, and a beer in the other. It's quality. But then there's the guys who throws a garbage bag over his head, cuts out a whole, and calls himself a douche bag. Yeah baby, you are a douche bag alright. In more ways that one. What am I going as you ask? A cop. I mean a stripper cop. I doubt the local prescient would find it acceptable that my ass is falling out of my uniform, and frankly, neither would my Canadian family. Happy Halloween.

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