Dress Up As Your Favorite Media Meanie 38515
Although we can???t always shake the nasty habit of writing in the royal we, occasionally one of our editors decides to shake off the cloak of anonymity to write a
short, pithy statement long, rambling diatribe about a topic of their choice. Today, Debbie Newman is that editor.
With Halloween just around the corner, it’s time to start thinking about last-minute costume ideas. And this year, instead of frantically hunting through the on-sale rack at Ricky’s for that elusive half-priced garment that says “Slutty, yet sophisticated,” why not be creative? There are plenty of do-it-yourself costumes* that require minimal effort on your part and are
guaranteed to please potentially capable of suiting your needs.
Moderately intrigued? Read on, anyway! After the jump, a complete rundown of the scariest media personalities around with useful tips on how to capture their “essence” without breaking the bank or sacrificing your unique rebelliousness.
How to do it: Become grossly overweight. Instead of saying “Trick or Treat” merely threaten to describe your recent “sack-waxing” procedure. In detail. Ditch the flask in favor of a never-ending glass of Scotch. Avoid pesky open-container laws by surrounding yourself in an impenetrable cloud of cigarette smoke. Make unfunny jokes then turn to your female companions and say, “See? No sense of humor whatsoever.”
Props: Booze, cigarettes, spare tire.
How to do it: Purse your lips and practice your cruel smile and inability to provide positive reinforcement. Have one of your friends pose as your assistant and spend the evening berating her while simultaneously pretending she doesn’t exist. Refuse to be seen with fat people. Speak softly, with a self-taught British intonation. Be prepared to repeat the phrase, “I already told you, I’m not wearing a mask.”
Props: Brown bob, designer sunglasses, fur coat (Bonus for red paint splattered on by angry PETA protesters).
How to do it: Talk incessantly and interrupt people with non-sequiturs like “You’re fired,” “Sorry, I’m on vacation” and “No, I don’t think it’s a conflict of interest for me to be both publisher and editor in chief of Rolling Stone.” Laugh megalomaniacally. Spontaneously make out with other men, then immediately deny it and say “I’m so in love with my same-sex life partner!” Piss off former staffers to the point where they send you a group photo of everyone giving you the finger.
Props: Pink slips, ill-fitting suit with mismatched dress-shirt, a gold nameplate reading, “I Will Never Leave.”
How to do it: Tote around that book of hers you’ve been using as a coaster; find yet-to-ruin magazines (like, say, The New Yorker) cross out all the editorial and just write “SEX.” Be prepared to convince people why Us Weekly or Star magazine is a relevant contribution to the cultural lexicon. Become extremely uncomfortable when asked to reiterate your stance on a public figure’s right to a private life.
Props: The aforementioned coaster-slash-book, understated devil horns/pitchfork, urine-infused coffee.
How to do it: Practice facial expressions in front of the mirror until you’ve got that “self-important albeit extremely paranoid” look down pat. Wear spectacles. Carry around a small chalkboard and write “I am not self-hating pedophile” fifty times. Fake epileptic seizures (the kind that result in convenient long-term memory loss) as needed. Refer to Justin Berry as “the one that got away.”
Props: Three legged dog named Maggie, illegally purchased child pornography. Or, better yet, your latest “research” subject.
How to do it: For this costume, four-hour haircuts are essential, as are fake tans and high-pitched girlish giggles. Wear tight clothing, excessive amounts of cologne and fancy shoes. Slather your hair with gel to create an effortless look that says “I didn’t just get a four-hour haircut.” Speak exclusively in emoticons. Gesticulate wildly with your hands and stand in such a way that it accentuates your torso. Avoid normal social interactions with your hard-working staff in favor of one-word emails sent from your Blackberry wireless handheld.
Props: Man-purse, Blackberry, a dog-eared copy of Field & Stream.
*See last week’s entry on Perez Hilton.
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