October 31 Editorial

Editorial
By: Kelly Woodard

This week I had a great time celebrating my favorite holiday, Halloween. Why is it my favorite holiday you ask? What’s not to love about dressing up to be whoever or whatever you want, all while drinking heavily and scaring young children before bribing them not to tell on you with candy?
This year I began my Halloween planning in August, generally a late start for me. I searched the internet for the best decorations for my house, and contemplated what crazy character I could come up with to retain my crown as Halloween and costume contest queen. (Five years running, and still champ may I add!)
I settled on my favorite controversial chef and butter buddy, Paula Deen. For the next few weeks I searched for the perfect wig, studied her interviews to mimic her mannerisms, practiced a southern accent with a Savannah drawl, and sought out the perfect outfit that would make Paula herself say, “Whoo wee!” I even went so far as to get colored contacts. No self-respecting Paula Deen lookalike would be caught dead in brown eyes.
When the Friday before Halloween rolled around, my husband and I dressed up and headed to a party thrown by his co-workers. When we arrived, true to form, every girl at the party was wearing an off the rack handkerchief with the same tired theme. Slutty nurse, slutty cop, slutty school girl, etc.
With pride I stepped out in my chambray shirt, mom jeans, ballet flats, full white wig, and giant stick of butter. Instantly, people I didn’t even know were telling me how awesome my costume was, and kept asking how I come up with things like this. I watched in satisfaction as the girls who so obviously craved attention were getting upstaged by the girl who was dressed as an overweight grandmother and butter lover.
As the night went on, the party progressed to a bonfire that was burning just outside. It was a rather chilly night, and I giggled once again to myself as I watched several of the 90lb half-naked waifs huddling together in desperation for warmth. When their eyes met mine, I simply held out my stick of butter and asked if they wanted a lick. As Paula would say, “A little extra meat on your bones is good for you.”
As the fire wore down and the night got colder, the nurses and referees were dropping like hypothermic flies. My husband and I, all toasty and warm, decided that it was time for our party to end. With the flick of my wrist, I threw what was left of my now melting stick of butter into the fire and said “Bye ya’ll” in my best Paula voice and headed for the hills all the while thinking, “Now that’s an exit that would’ve made Miss Deen proud.”
I’m pretty sure they all found me amusing because my husband said we were all anyone was talking about the next day at work. No matter how amused his co-workers were, I’m sure that no one amuses me more than…well, me. If I was to one day find myself on a deserted island or in a padded room, I’m fairly certain that I would be just fine. And I learned from one of the naked girls at the party that palm frawns and coconuts can in fact be made into a costume. That may come in handy.
On Halloween night my husband and I will suit up once again for our annual costume contest smack down, and I have a title to defend. All I can say to my competitors is don’t bring margarine to a butter fight. Game on.
Happy Halloween ya’ll!!!