My Halloween Costume

I know Halloween was like three weeks ago, but I wanted to write something about it and there were two things holding me up: I wanted a picture of us, which now I have; and I've been terribly busy with work, drinking, and training for the 2008 Olympic Games. *

The night I was handing out candy was Monday--Halloween proper. But that left us with the weekend open to dress up ourselves and either go Trick or Treating (turns out, bad idea) or go out on the town.

Let me describe what we did before I link to any pictures. This year's theme was Dukes of Hazzard, almost but not entirely because of the theatrical release earlier in the year. Dave was Bo Duke, Terry was Luke Duke, and I was ...

Well, with the main characters already taken I had my choice of the lesser stars. Despite recommendations that I wear the Daisy Duke costume that was up for grabs, I decided to be the mechanic Cooter Davenport, if for no other reason than I could go around saying I was dressed up like Cooter.

Store bought costumes are cool, but it's more fun to make your own. So another last-minute idea turns into a laughable costume.

Here's the bill of materials for the Cooter costume :

1. Old pair of jeans, disposable
2. Cowboy-ish shirt, very disposable
3. Boots
4. Belt + buckle
5. Trucker hat
6. Oil / grease / lube / spray paint / Vegemite
7. Iron-on transfer paper
8. Continuous grin while in production

Start by taking the jeans and rubbing them all over the underside of the Jeep. Attack with camo spray paint in random locations. Tear holes in jeans. Cut the sleeves off the shirt, because Cooter rarely wore a shirt with sleeves. Fill a bucket with water and pour in any kind of oil and grease we can find in the garage. Soak the shirt in there for a while. Drop both in the washing machine filled up with water, no detergent, so it looks a little worn and I don't have too much grease on me all night. After drying, print an iron-on transfer of the character's name and apply for a work-shirt look.

We're left with this.

And all of us together.

By the way, I had to take a picture of this wig because it was seriously creeping me out. Every time I walked past it on the dining room table, I got a little nervous. I mean, it looks like a severed head may be underneath it, waiting to spin around and somehow launch at me and eat my brain. I know I could have just moved it or covered it up, but that would have been admitting my phobia of disembodied heads with curly hair.

* My sport is competitive staring. I'm training alternately with the neighbor's cat and one of those pictures with a hidden sailboat. I still can't see the damn sailboat.