When Our Mom Helped Us Move She Found Our Wigs From Past Halloweens and Immediately Started to Cry...

Some people have told us we were way too serious on Wednesday, so we will go back to being our superficial selves, posting only about self-deprication and husband hunting, and leaving the serious "issue" posts to Bigmouth. Any by "issues" we mean both the struggle for full equality and deformed genetalia.

At this point, however, we have nothing to say, except to wish you all a very fun pre-Halloween weekend. It seems like Saturday night is the big night of choice for dressing as slut-ily as possible and calling it a costume. We haven't been to the gym since June, so can't really recreate the Adam, Eve & Steve or Michael Phelps costumes of past years, both of which involved painful waxing experiences and a subsequent rash. We will, however, be entering the following costume contest on bloggingprojectrunway, but won't tell you what our idea is since you f*ckers will probably steal it and thus our year's supply of tresemme hair products. OK fine, we will give you a hint: she was a "celebrity" judge one episode this season. And those quotes might as well have given it away.

We are a little worried that no one outside our world is going to know who we are, and that we will spend most of the night explaining ourselves to the straight people LL is making us hang out with tomorrow night. We can't even blame straight people though, since at a firm's gay recruiting drinks last night, we shared our idea and even they were clueless. Never a good sign.