They call me Betty

I love Halloween.  The kids get tons of candy and after they go to bed you can eat as much of it as you want.  And even though I sometimes complain about making Halloween Costumes, the truth is: Velcro is a fantastic invention and who doesn't like to use a hot glue gun?

The best part of Halloween, however, is harassing your friends...but you know... in a good way. 

This tradition started 5 or 6 years ago when my husband decided to dress up as his friend, G.Paul.  This costume was very simple.  All he needed was a baseball cap, a goatee, a town work shirt (G.Paul's wife grabbed one from his dresser drawer) and we finished the outfit with a wubby.  

For some reason spell check doesn't recognize the word "wubby". 

You all know what a wubby is wight right?

"Now listen to me, I understand that you little guys start out with your wubby's, and you think they are great...and they are. They are terrific, but pretty soon a wubby isn't enough. You're out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, maybe even a quilt. Then the next thing you know your strung out on bedspreads, Ken! That's serious! Now gimmie the wubby!" ~ bonus points if you can name the movie

Wubby's start out as blankets (think Linus from peanuts) but at some point when little boys become grown men they are disguised as quilted flannel shirt jackets.  Anyway, this is my husband in his Halloween Costume dressed as G.Paul.  We all laughed at along with G.Paul

One summer our friend George got a fish hook stuck in his head.  That year we all came adorned with fish lures in our hair and wearing Lowes aprons.  Oh George, that was a great Halloween!  Thanks Buddy.
 
Then there was the year that I slaved into the wee hours of the night finishing up my 1950's poodle skirt to wear to the annual Halloween Party.  See costume below.

 

And the reason you cannot see the poodle skirt is because that was the year the joke was on me! Earlier that year we all went out to dinner and I had three a cocktail and I asked the young man, who was making a flaming desert table side, if he had gone to Chefistry School.  

Again, the darn spell check doesn't recognize "Chefistry".  

Chefistry makes a whole lot more sense then Culinary, just saying. 

My friends still call me Betty.