Halloween costumes and gender stereotypes, with random BS


Hi, and welcome back to another instalment of the continuing saga, “….

Nope, I got nothing. My blogging friend Michael could come up with something, I’m sure.

I’m a bit at loose ends tonight, as my BFF Socks has family over and isn’t available for our usual phone call. I know she’s having a great time, though, and not even I can begrudge her that. We’ve planned a conversation tomorrow, but it must needs be cut short due to my needing to assemble Halloween costumes.

My costume is mostly make up – well, actually, glue-on, good quality prostheses I bought in the US last year- and those terrifying New Rock boots I mention in my ‘about’ page. But iDJ – well. I am gonna have soooo much fun with him. I refuse to give it away, but we came up with a costume that utilises his beautiful, arse-length blonde hair. It also involves make up, but more like lipstick and eyeshadow rather than greys and blacks.

Despite us being married for over 6 years, he still gets called gay because of the hair. The hair I love. The hair that suits him. When they see him in costume (called ‘fancy dress’ here) on Saturday, they will say it even more. The thing is: only a man secure in his gender preference is comfortable enough to dress so oddly (and no, he’s not going to be in drag). So, you small town, insecure, gender-preference-repressed name callers – eat it and weep. He’ll be awesome, and he gets to come home with me.

I will post pictures. I know I’ll be unrecognisable, and he will likely be, too. I say that, because I’m still debating on keeping the blog anonymous. I think I have four out of 11 followers who don’t know me in ‘real life.’ However, I’ve not said the horrible things I thought I might say when I first started the blog. I was in such a dark place, I figured it would be non-stop bitching about everything. Instead, it turns out this thing helps me see the humor in my life, and makes me appreciate the little things more.

I also think I appreciate the bigger small things more, like my KIBIS nights. We did have one this week, not at my house but at MrsMMC’s apartment. We voted to include another member, but we didn’t say who was going to invite her… oops. Is that my job? I’m not going to detail the evening, but some things we talked about are things I want to ramble on about here, and I’ll give a KIBIS-mention when I get a round tuit.


Yes, I know that is an old, bad joke. It makes me think of my dad, though. He had one of these, and he loves an old, bad joke as much as I do. Hell, my whole family loves stupid jokes. Would you like two that came from my great-grandmother, on my mother’s side? No? Tough. Please note, these jokes have to be over 150 years old, passed down over the generations.

What are the three dirty parts of the stove? Lifter leg and poker.

What are the three naughty vegetables in the garden? Lettuce turnip and pea.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Right, what next? If I hadn’t segued into bad jokes and KIBIS, I might have said some things about the seeming gender confusion in my household. That is completely the wrong term, of course. Stereotype shattering is a better term.

An example from right now! He is live on the air, playing his Internet radio show. Tonight is Halloween themed. He was playing a song that is new to me, and I like it a lot (a rarity, I’m picky). Afterward, he (was) is playing Glen Campbell, Ghost on a Canvas. He told me that he’s snuffling back tears because Glen has Alzheimer’s, and his memory only comes back for his songs, not his family or friends. So, Glen is now a ghost himself. Aw. (iDJ also said the two songs before the one I like made him weepy.)

Me? I’m considering deleting the part of my post yesterday where I admitted to feeling anything.

Okay, back to fun examples of why we are so good, and so odd, together.

He loves to shop for clothes. He knows labels, what is hot, what is classic, what isn’t worth the trouble and why. He always has, and spent hundreds on a single jacket or pair of jeans back in the day of the Irish Punt.

I don’t know, nor do I care, about labels or what is in fashion or cool, except to avoid what is trendy. I buy based on three things:
Is it an acceptable price for what it is?
Is it ‘classic’? Meaning, it better not be a trend and I’ll look like a twat next year because I’m not doing this shopping shit again any time soon if I can help it.
Does it look good on me?
Sometimes there is a no. four: is it so totally awesomely tacky that I cannot live without it?

iDJ is a shoe freak. Sneakers, trainers, whatever you want to call them. His passion is to re-buy all the trainers he had as a kid; sadly thwarted due to me not having any income. The good part about this is that he shops well. TK Maxx, aka TJ Maxx, is the best for inexpensive cool shoes. Even better is that after he checks the selection in his size he looks at my size, and has gotten me some really cool rare kicks. Oh lordy, he’s rubbing off on me.

Enough about clothing, it’s boring.

Next is, of course, that his hair is loooooooong. He’s not a metalhead, and doesn’t want to be taken for one. Hipster is more his style. Yes, he even wears cardigans. But, he has no piercings or tattoos and doesn’t want any. I have 3 tats, want another, and my ears are punctured 4 times left, once right. All my tats are on my left, too, it’s a thing with me. No, I don’t know why.

Last one, then I’m done, honey, I promise.

He drives a MINI Cooper. I drive a Harley-Davidson Sportster.

Because this has gone on long enough and I have to end on a high note, don’t I? A thing i am very happy indeed about: He isn’t threatened, is indeed relieved, to let me do most of the mechanical repairs and assembly around the house. I love putting together flat-pack!

9 responses »

  1. ❤ you are so cool!

    Love this post, I guess I'm one of your never met followers, but it's strange? I feel I kinda know you?!

    Wish I was listening to radio show, I met Glen Campbell, (will post pics when I locate) a few yrs ago..4-5??6???
    He was so sweet, invited me on stage to photograph..but I then proceeded to got so ratarsed drunk I was falling over & bouncers were threatening to have me removed..lol..looking back I see funny side, even then I thought it was funny but others didn't! : )

    • I definitely do not consider you a ‘not met’, even though we haven’t, yet! You know my name and face, and my hubby, and I damn sure intend to rectify the ‘not met in person’ business as soon as it is feasible.
      He would love to see those pics, so find them when you can! Bollocks to what others think or thought – I bet the only one who remembers with any clarity is you – despite being pissed!

  2. K’s been accused of being gay because of his hair before too. Well, that or a drug dealer when he had a flashy car. I love his hair, I flat adore it, which is why he’s kept it this long. He doesn’t hate it, I think he’s just bored of it.

    Not once has he ever complained about someone thinking him gay. Near as I can tell he truly doesn’t care. Which is something I adore about him. I find it attractive that he grows his hair as he wants it, listens to whatever music he likes (he actually had Nelson when we started dating!), wears whatever he likes. Like the medieval/pirate style shirt I made him. He wore it for something like 6 years. To work and everything. I love that and I think it’s a wonderful quality.

    I think it makes a good pair when you are with someone who balances who you are. It makes you both whole and better.

    • He looked great in that shirt! I remeber it. I think D is getting a bit bored, too. His hair is heavy, so he gets hair-headaches. I’m annoyed that he doesn’t have split ends like I do. Hmph.
      Unfortunately, he does get in altercations from time to time. The Irish do fight a bit more than I’d like, and he can only be pushed so far before he snaps. Mostly what bothers him is when he is being shouted at in front of ME. I think he feels he needs to defend me from people attacking what I love, which happens to be him… a bit strange I suppose.

  3. I’m originally from Dorset. You didn’t trick or treat. If you rapped on some farm door and expelled the well known phrase, the door would swing open, revealing a mildly inebriated and intensely racist farmer with a half cocked, double barrel shot gun over his arm. Snapping it together he says, ‘Trick’.

    • Holy shit! Is it any comfort knowing that’s the response American kids would get in the Ozarks, or in the hillbilly areas of western Pennsylvania? I had no idea Dorset was redneck. We have more in common than I thought 🙂

  4. Pingback: Oh, jazuz, it’s been two years! | heretherebespiders

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