Emily Rancer

As my roommate Julie leapt for her FedEx package, she squealed, “Ooh, it must be my Halloween costume!”

After ordering it online the week before, she told me it was a cute sailor’s outfit. From her description, it really did sound cute.

As she pulled the navy blue miniskirt from the box, we both doubled over in laughter – the thing was pleated and about the length of your hand. In other words, the costume was successfully sluttified.

I asked Julie if she still intended to wear it for Halloween. She smiled, giggled, and sheepishly replied, “Yeah . . . “

I suppose she sort of knew what she was getting into with the costume. After all, she Googled “sexy Halloween costumes” to find it.

Take a trip with me now to, I dunno, 1992. I know that I was a Ninja Turtle that year – not a skanky Ninja Turtle, but a cool one with nunchucks and stuff. I had no idea what the calorie content of a fun size Snicker’s bar was and I wouldn’t have cared if I did.

What the hell happened?

Now stay with me in the early 90s when you wanted that really rad Halloween costume, but your parents wouldn’t buy it because it was too expensive. Remember that line they used to give you?

It’s not what’s on the outside, but what’s on the inside that counts.

That phrase was pounded into us at home, at school and in every toy and clothing store we ever entered with our parents. It’s funny how after all our years of education, we’ve gotten ourselves to the peak – to college. Yet we’ve forgotten such an elementary concept of human decency.

I’m going to be honest (a shock, I know). I was going to be Hagrid from Harry Potter for Halloween. Not a slutty Hagrid, mind you. But a Hagrid with an over-sized trench coat, full beard craftily made from a wig, huge boots and an umbrella.

But you guys ruined it. There’s no way I can go to a party dressed as Hagrid. Could you imagine me wearing that outfit and chatting it up with some guy who keeps lifting his eyes to catch a flash of ass from the “dirty girl scout” on my left and the “witch whore” to my right, who by the way is dancing with her broomstick like it’s a stripper’s pole?

I’m not trying to become the Cal Poly prude here. I liked the creativity behind the CPSalsa ads and T-shirts with a little cleavage don’t really bother me.

It comes down to this: As college students, we get too caught up in making our lives so stereotypically college-like that we forget who we are. Were you ever a cool cowboy or cowgirl for Halloween? Did you ever dress up as your favorite athlete?

Halloween costumes often used to, in some way, represent who we wanted to be. I wanted to be a Ninja Turtle because they fought evil, had great friends and could do really awesome flips in mid-air. Who wouldn’t want to be a turtle in a half-shell with a life like that?

I don’t remember any of my friends dressing up as shit-faced pirate wenches with skirts that would fly above their thongs at any sign of a breeze.

Either way, I don’t have a costume. Maybe I’ll just wrap a cardboard box around myself and go as a square.

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