Tag Archives: fashion

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!

Rainbow Toes, fake flowers and the Fabulous Cow Coat


Off we go, I’m just going to start ‘typing’ and see where it goes. I can’t really think of it as typing as it is only two fingers touching a flat screen. I can touch-type, this feels like a backward step. Hmm. Perhaps if I turn the Pad sideways, I can use the rest of my fingers? Let’s experiment.

Okay, the reading area is smaller, but the ‘keyboard’ is bigger, of course. I have fingernails for the moment, so my beloved comma is hard to hit, and I keep touching return with my pinkie.

Actually, the fingernails remind me of a topic I’ve been wanting to bring up. See, I only have them because they didnt break below the quick like they usually do, causing massive pain and occasional blood. They are like wet tissue paper, usually. I have no idea why they are almost acting like the the useful tools they should be. You know; teeth picking, ear cleaning, finding the annoying little plastic tab end on a new pack of smokes. Not useful for: opening pop top cans, or just about anything else. Especially: looking ‘pretty.’

I tried fake nails a few times. When they broke free (causing massive pain and occasional blood) the entire top layer of my nail went too, and I was left with nails the consistency of a McDonalds hamburger bun. Never again.

I don’t paint my fingernails. Usually they are too short to bother, and my hands are too used to keep polish on for more than a few hours without ugly chips. I also am a perfectionist, and Lefty always looks shitty. Also, I cannot ‘do nothing’ long enough for polish to dry, so it has smears, dents, and fingerprints within minutes. Also? I really don’t give a fuck what they look like, as long as they aren’t really dirty or have snags that cut my gums or ear canals.

I do paint my toenails, but only in the warm months when I wear my seriously tacky fake-flower flip flops. My feet are fabulous and I like to share the symmetry that is mine. I paint them in what I privately think of as my gay pride* colors; big toe purple, next blue, next green, next yellow, pinkie red. Rainbow Toes! Paired with a giant blue, pink or purple fabric flower on my ‘flop, I get a lot of stares. The only way it would be better is if the flowers were hard plastic instead of floppy fake silk.


*I’m not gay, but I also don’t give a shit if you want to assume I am just because I have Rainbow Toes. Maybe I can make someone think for a change. I doubt it. Urg, this pic makes my toes look stumpy. They aren’t.

I feel that I should explain why I love the tacky flowered flippers so much. It is because as a kid, I hated the ones my mother had. She had no taste in clothes or fashion and proudly called herself the ‘polyester queen.’ She loved bright colors and loud cheap clothes. I hated her lack of taste the most when I was a teen, but I have come to appreciate just how liberating and fun wearing something stupid is. Whenever I dressed for myself, rather than a wedding or for work, I always did dress a bit out of the mainstream (discounting the disastrous experiment with being preppy at 12) but always in a genre of sorts – heavy metal, punkish, sexy-strange. That girl would never, ever, have a pink flower on her foot. Now, they make me smile, they make me feel happy and goofy and fun in a way that tons of makeup and short skirts never could. It is also an homage to the butterfly that was my mother.

Oh, The Fabulous Cow Coat. I am famous in three countries for wearing my mother’s enormous black & white fake fur coat. She called it her cow coat, but lots of people call it a Cruella DeVille coat. It is massive and tacky, and I love it so very, very much.

I had a lot further to cover on the topic of fashion, appearance, and social norms. However, dinner is nearly ready and I got a lot of joy out of telling these few stories instead of a ‘serious’ post.