I love Halloween. I enjoy, with every shred of my being, dressing up in the most rediculous costume possible. It's almost like I enjoy my own public humiliation. Which is why I donned my finest orange faux tan this weekend to transform myself into America's Sweetheart, Snooki.
The funniest part about my outift is that I was Amy Winehouse two years ago, and the hair poof is pretty much identical to that of the Snookster. Who knew?
The only downside to my costume? Well, there's the orange streaks left on my seatbelt from my orange skin. Oh, and trying to fit that oversized New Jersey poof into my Honda Accord. And clearly into the frame of a photograph as well. Then, of course, no one can take you seriously in an adult conversation with your zebra print bra hanging out and a poof the size of your torso on your head. Of course.