"Halloween troubles"

I apologize to all of my readers for not being able to post a blogs for the Halloween Time Celebrations, but we had kind of a costume crisis at the house. My daughters Franchessca and Racquel, who are both under the tender age of 16, said they wanted to be pussycats. Cute little cats with whiskers and the meows. So of course my youngest Annabelle, wanted to be like her big sisters and she wanted to be a cat too. I'll come back to that in a minute.

Now in the meantime, my daughter Adrienne, wanted to be "slutty" Sarah Palin, which I didn't like at first, but then I heard her do the Sarah Palin voice, and that shit is annoying, so I wasn't worried about any boys hitting on her.

So she was deadset on "slutty" Sarah Palin except she can't find her "Braidini". I mean it was nowhere to be found! And as everybody knows, if you want to be Sarah Palin, you gots to have the "Braidini". So after tearing the house apart looking for this thing, my wife and I had to overnight a Braidini to the house. The only problem is they don't sell them in the states anymore. I checked the "As seen on TV" website and came up googats. (That means I got nothing).

Now as luck would have it, my brother-in -law has a small store off of Canal street in Chinatown NY, that specializes in "As seen on TV" products that either don't exist, are hard to find, or have become very very illegal. Beef broth flavor injectors, self-lubricating lady beard trimmers, liquid cleaners that remove new stains from clothes but leave the old stains in tact, and reusable tampons. Things like that.

So I called him up and he said he could have me a Braidini by 8pm Friday night. This was great except what got delivered to the house by the Mexican in the van was not a "Braidini" at all. It was a "Brangelini". Now I don't know if you know what a "Brangelini" is, but it certainly does not go in your hair.

For those who don't know, for a short time when Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt were at the peak of being the "it" couple (according to Esquire magazine 2006 January issue) the Italian pornographic industry, or IPI (pronounced "yippie" without the "y"), decided to capitalize on the craze by modifying the already very successful sex toy, the "Fleshlight", pictured here:

(For those of you who prefer a real mouth and or vagina during love moments, this is supposed to feel like that. To me it looks like an ice cream cone that eats you. That's gross. Plus it looks like strawberry soft-serve. That's gross too).

Anywho, they quickly made one modeled after Angelina's exact mouth-hole proportions. Pictured here:

And the added bonus that made this version so unique, was that when you unscrewed the grey handle, it revealed an exact replica of Brad Pitt's man-shaft underneath. It was ideal for transgender sexuals and people with blogs I don't like to read. I mean it really was the ultimate capitalization on an "it" couple mash-up. But IPI never got permission from them both to go ahead with it. Angelina said yes, but Brad refused to sign over his likeness.

So here I am, Halloween night, standing outside my upstairs bathroom, my daughter Adrienne yelling at my wife about how she can't get her hair up in the right styling, my wife is screaming at me to look in the attic for the old "Braidini" we used to have in case it got packed away with the Christmas decorations by accident, and me standing there looking like an a-hole with sex-part replicas of the Hollywood elite resting securely in my hand.

Then to make things even better, Franchessa, Racquel, and Annabelle come walking out of their rooms dressed like the Las Vegas Bunny Ranch! Apparently they didn't want to just be pussycats. They wanted to be pussycat dolls. Now those girls are tramps.

This would not fly.

Then Denise, Gianna, and Conchetta start fighting in the living room because they all want to be Charlie's Angels, except none of them wanted to be the ugly one. (If you watch the new movie, the ugly one's name rhymes with Screw Barrymore).

And then to top it all off, my daughter Mimi walks in dressed like a whore. But not like a modern day whore, like a Jesus Times whore. She was Mary Magdalene if Mary Magdalene had actually gotten stoned. I mean there was blood everywhere. She explained that she was making a statement about how Halloween has just turned into an excuse to dress up like whores and that if it were 2,000 years ago, we'd all be stoned. She always likes to make statements.

At this point, I had had enough. To solve the problem I said they all had to go as Disney Princesses, or not at all. So that night I walked around the neighborhood for two hours with a gaggle of Cinderellas and one Mulan. I think Denise was trying to make another statement by picking the least attractive princess. But if she wanted to do that she should have been the Arabic one on the carpet. She's got way too much hair for her head size. It makes me uncomfortable.

She's like that weird home-schooled transfer girl that always smelled like wheat thins and front lawn. Every high-school had one. How come they never cut their hair?

So that's why I didn't have a chance to write a blogs.

Oh, but my daughter Brittany was a smurf so that was good.