Costumes are great.
I always want to spend elaborate (and nonexistant) amounts of money and time making my costumes, but I never do. Or, you know, did. Since I don't really dress up anymore.
But in the past I always wanted to start preparing my get-up around like March. The ultimate dream costume I had in mind was this angel with wings, robes, halo, the whole 9 yards. And then, at midnight, I would have the costume change into a devil/demon thing. With horns, pitchfork, blah, blah, blah. It was incredibly cool looking in my mind's eye, anyway.
Probably my best Halloween costume (aside from the aforementioned Michael Jackson) was when I was a hooker. I shaved my legs. And armpits. I wore a bra. I ...um...tucked. I had a blonde wig. And wore makeup. I was, in a word, hot.
Or, um, maybe not.
The only thing I remember dressing up as any other year was the old standby of vampire. White makeup and fake teeth are simple, after all.
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