Quirkee.com

I like Halloween. And I like sex. Just not both at the same time.

I went to Spirit Halloween last weekend in search of something to wear to a business Halloween party. From what I discerned, most of the costumes for sale these days are not appropriate for the office unless your business is porn. And thanks to YouTube, you show up in one of these outfits at the company party and you'll be haunted for many Halloweens to come.

There are hundreds, if not thousands web stores that cater to customers wanting French maids outfits and Catholic school girl costumes to live out their fantasies in the privacy of their own homes. Don't ask me how I know this. And I totally get how a young, size zero coed (who, according to my understanding of math, don't actually exist since zero isn't a real number), might want to dress like a slut for a campus party before settling down a less adventuresome life as a maid, Catholic school teacher, or Republican nominee for vice president. But the rest of us grown-ups, especially we women of a certain age whose fantasies are less of the "pirate rips off our bustier" and more of the "husband picks up own laundry" variety, would really appreciate a costume that says "I can relax and enjoy myself," not "Looking for a good time, mister?"

Unofficially, we are 1-1 and 1. Unofficially, that is because the YMCA does not keep score. However, when a team does score a touchdown they have the option to try a conversion from the two yard line or the five yard line. Therefore the scoring system is as follows:

Touchdown = 6 points.
Extra Point = 1 point from the two yard line (team must pass) 2 points from the 5 yard line (run or pass)
Safety = 2 points.

Huh?

Again, though, the YMCA does not keep score.

As I have mentioned in this column before, I used to be a debater in high school and college, which is how I managed to stay a virgin for so long. I usually keep this information (the debater part, not the virgin part) to myself, but every four years as the presidential and vice presidential candidates gear up for their own debates, I offer myself up as an expert. A nerdy expert most people avoid at parties, but an expert nonetheless.

Here, then, are my suggestions for effective debating, honed after six years "on the circuit" as we say in debate circles:

God, I love to sleep!  My wife is convinced that I was born in a den of polar bears, but I disagree.  I am not overly hairy and I don’t really have an affinity for Coca Cola.  I just love to sleep, and most days until twelve noon.  I work during night time hours, so it’s a necessity.  But man, there are those days when I will stay in bed past the point of hibernation.  The scientist in you will doubt the validity in that statement by adding, “In order to achieve true hibernation, one’s body temperature must be severely lowered to a near comatose state, thus causing the heart rate to slow beyond normal living conditions.”  And to you the Doubting Thomas I would say, “Aha!  But I sleep with the AC turned down to its lowest setting!”   Sure, it’s an expensive habit in Texas during the summer, but man is it worth spending twelve hours in the fetal position, all wrapped up like a cocoon!

Evidently, my whole family (with the exception of my perfectly punctual sister) has evolved from bats, squirrels, marsupials and the like.  I was on the phone with my oldest and dearest friend Mark the other day, and he brought back a funny memory. During our elementary and middle school years we lived mere blocks from each other, and my parents’ house was on his way to school so naturally he’d stop by to pick me up so we could walk to school together.  Mark recalled how difficult a task that sometimes was ever since the first day he decided to stop by.

Want to wake up your inner revolutionary child?  It's easier than you think -- all you need to do is replace phrases like "Roth IRA" and "multivitamin with extra Gingko" with 60's-speak, man!   But before you do, check this dictionary to see what your favorite 60's slogans mean in the 21st century! Can you dig it?

You might have noticed that the Edition now has a fashion columnist. And you should see the way this guy dresses. I have pants envy of him. One day he came in with pants that ended four inches about his shoe line-and he got away with it. He looked dynamite, like a dancer, like Gene Kelly. If I tried that I'd look like a Beverly Hillbilly, though not quite as good. Some people can do what they like in terms of pants, and fashion. I can't.

Since I don't wear suits to work, I have to make a fashion decision every morning and live with it the rest of the day. The shirt I choose has to go right with my pants or I'll feel like a dork-and there's no turning back. "Boss, can I go home and change? I can't stand this ensemble"-that doesn't fly in the real world. I try to wear what I call "universal" pants: pants of solid colors that go with anything. So I have light and dark pants. These go with my light and dark shirts. But not always.

I'm no Sarah Palin (although I do look like her with my hair up... of course I also look like Patty Hearst and that woman the national media nicknamed "The Runaway Bride" a few years ago, so draw your own conclusions.)

As I was saying, I'm no Sarah Palin. Nor am I Hillary Clinton, but I believe... no, make that, I KNOW I have the experience to single-handedly fix what's broke in this country. Look ma, no modesty! I'm a shoo-in for national office! After all, I live in a town bigger than the one Sarah mayored, and for the past year, I've been my city's official reigning Queen (if you need to vet me, go to www.slugqueeneugene.com. I'm the 2007 Queen). In fact, Vice President would be kind of like a step down for me, if you really want to know the truth. I'm used to having people curtsy and hand over their chocolate.

Lambs to the slaughter.  What has become of a nation founded by people who were so fed up with the way things were that they fought, literally fought for change?  There was a time when people screamed, "ENOUGH!"  We once believed in a right to speak out, to expose injustices, to enact changes, and fight for what we felt just and true.  Today we are mocked, scorned and dismissed.  Why?  What happened to our voices and what could possibly have enough power to silence them?

Time.  Time has eroded our resolve much like the constant winds and water have eroded a tiny crack in the Arizona desert to form The Grand Canyon.  It didn't happen overnight.  It was the result, year after year, of the pounding forces of wind, water, ice and heat.  Oh I'm sure the rocks resisted initially using all of their collective resolve to keep the faith and stay strong.  But the winds were constant and unrelenting.  As the crack grew, strongholds were lessened and eventually gave way altogether.