All I Want For Christmas is My Sanity

I don’t know about y’all, folks, but considering it's barely December, already there has been an amazing amount of jingle going on at Chez Counce. We’re mere weeks away from the holiday we celebrate at my house, Christmas, and the three children under the age of nine have demanded so far nothing less than a full-on Santapalooza since the day after Thanksgiving.

Before it's all over, I will have sat on Santa’s lap, made and decorated the obligatory gingerbread men, caroled myself silly, pasted foam snowflakes crafts together, toured neighborhood for lights, wrapped presents, served hot chocolate and candy canes, dressed up the kids and watched them dance the Jingle Bell Rock at their schools. I fear by Christmas Eve they will be actually levitating a little bit.

It’s a lot, the holiday season, for anyone, if you let it be. How do you maintain mental health while under such elven pressure? How do you grit your teeth, smile, and get your yule on with minimal emotional scarring? Gather around, children:

If it ain’t fun, don’t do it. If you find yourself at a holiday event hissing at your family to Have fun already, dammit!, I’m thinking you might want to rethink the purpose of your tradition. My four-year-old loves the concept of Santa. Santa in person, however, might as well be a jihadist for all the terror he invokes in my middle child. Forcing my child near Santa, whether at a mall or breakfast, is ill advised. Who’s the activity for, anyway?

Acknowledge your feelings. If a loved one has died recently or you aren’t near your loved ones, it’s normal to feel sadness and grief. Take time to express yourself. It’s okay and expected for the holiday season to induce some stress and depression. Seek support through friends and family members. Or seek professional help if physical complaints, sleep and appetite disturbances, irritability, and hopelessness continue past a couple of weeks.

Delegate, delegate, delegate! If you’re hosting, ask others to bring food, or if your budget allows, cater some of the food. If you have friends or family members who insist on home cooked family meals, cheerfully announce you are delighted to serve theirs!

Keep decorations simple. Unless you’re just incredibly passionate about decorating, less can be more. Trust me: women like me will appreciate you for it.

Reconsider holiday cards. These take a lot of time and energy. But you have options! Send them out every other year, send them to only out-of-town friends and family, or just wait until Valentine’s Day when things aren’t so crazy.

Think about how to impart your deepest values to your children. Most of us want our children to realize the value of giving over receiving. This is an excellent time to teach this value. Think about giving to charities in lieu of gifts. Dad doesn’t really need a new tie anyway. Gather up gently used toys that aren’t as popular as they once were with your children, and take them to a local shelter together. Volunteer with your children and teach them the real reasons behind the seasons. It ain’t all about the Furby.

Limit gifts, keep a budget, and stick to it. I can be the worst about buying last minute items that are just perfect for someone…even though I’ve already bought for that person. Remember your commitment to stay congruent with you values by spending wisely. Your children will appreciate happy parents more than any gift. It also takes pressure off of family and friends to reciprocate. In this economy, bling is dead. It’s now hip to consume less and be greener.

Be realistic. Families grow and traditions change. Be willing to find new ways to celebrate and understand that some traditions may not still be possible. Make new and more meaningful traditions that reflect your values.

Set differences aside. Stress levels run high at the holidays. Mix in a little eggnog with too much “nog,” and you can have serious issues. Accept family members as they are and don’t get too upset or distressed if something goes awry.

Don’t abandon healthy habits. It’s tempting to let the holidays be a culinary free for all. Overindulgence only adds to stress and guilt. Have a healthy snack before parties: whole grains, fruits, and veggies have the fiber to fill you and cut cravings. Remember sweets send you high before the inevitable crash. Keep up exercise, journaling, time for fun. Take a breather. Fifteen minutes alone can be amazing: steal away to a quiet place (hello, bathroom and trashy magazine!), take a walk at night and stargaze, or listen to some soothing or inspiring music.

Rethink resolutions. I’ve always resented the artificial prompt of the new year to somehow make up for past excess. Instead, just return to basic, healthy lifestyle choices. Make specific goals with a reasonable time line. Resolutions can set you up to failure if you are unrealistic. There’s a reason the Slim Fast commercials air non-stop in January and disappear in February, ladies!

Forget about perfection. One of my favorite holiday movies is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Towards the end of the film, Clark Griswold bares his teeth into a maniacal grin and shouts at his dismayed family: “We’re going to have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny @#$%^&* Kaye!” Clark has gone to extremes to make the holiday perfect for his family…and nearly sent himself to the asylum in the process. Holiday TV specials are filled with happy endings. Sadly, TV is not real life. Problems do not wrap up neatly at the end of the hour. There’s no such thing as “normal,” and we all have our own special brand of crazy that makes our family unique and special. Love the ones you’re with…warts and all. We all need that.

Remember: your attitude is up to you. Lastly, don’t let stress and depression be unwelcome guests this holiday season. Remaining calm and cultivating joy can help defuse any stressful situation, and eyes that are warmed by the heart can see these situations more clearly. Making the decision to ask yourself:  “Am I bringing my best self into this situation?” has the potential of transforming any difficult moment. This may be challenging, but it is intensely rewarding. Happy holidays, everyone!

Parent Fail

Hey. You. You boneheads that brought your four children under the age of ten to the movie theater to see the latest Bond film, Skyfall, the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. I hate to break it to you, but this is an open letter to you, because you are so doing parenting wrong. The decision to expose those kids to the sex, violence, and profanity in that movie? Epic. Parenting. Fail. And you need to be called out on it. I'm up for a little public shaming.

I mean, really: bringing your three or four year old daughter to an R rated movie? She had her blankie and bottle with her while 007 was having his shaken, not stirred. Her legs barely stuck out over the theater seat. Oh, and she was paying attention. I heard her asking you questions, Mommy. In fact, I heard A LOT from the four children you had up past decent bedtimes to expose them to completely inappropriate cinematic material. The three boys under ten lined up to our side had lots of tween commentary about blowing things and snickers for boobies. Good times.

Your eight or nine year old son was also the only one to giggle, wildly inappropriately, at the gruesome end to our Bond villain, a serious denouement scene. The rest of the theater was silent. But then again, making noise didn't really seem to concern you: you were either unaware or didn't care you were making a great deal of noise as you brought out your bowls and cups from home to share your popcorn and drinks with your children on the row behind you during the movie.

How many ways did you fail, parents to small children in that theater? Let me count the ways:

You failed your children. Why did you insist on bringing these impressionable young people to see all this violence? I'm a jaded old lady. I enjoy a thirty-kill spy movie on occasion because it's age appropriate for me. I wanted to snatch your baby's blanket and wrap it around her head so she wouldn't see all the blood, guts, and guns. How did she not have nightmares? What time DO your children go to bed anyway? Why was she up so late? You don't care she heard the B, F, and S words that night? You needed your Daniel Craig fix so badly you would expose them to R rated material? Thee three boys lined up next to me and Hubs giggled at every bloody moment. What are you teaching them? How numb ARE you?

You failed me and the rest of the audience. The excessive talking, snack sharing, and not to mention two potty breaks for the baby who was too little to even take the stairs? More than a little distracting in a packed theater. The sold out, adult audience was straining to filter out British accents and listen for plot points as you pointed out to Baby Sister that yes, that was a house in the movie! Before it got blown up in your baby's face, I mean. I couldn't relax and truly enjoy my adult gratuitous violence. I literally felt uncomfortable sitting next to your eight year old during Bond's sex scenes and annoyed at how they snickered at all the violence. I did not get the experience I hoped to have when I payed through the nose for my popcorn due to you and your entourage of minors.

You failed yourself. Admit it. You're better than this. You don't need to see a movie so badly that you would expose your naive children to it. Well, before seeing the Bond movie, naive. I'm not so sure how innocent your children are at this point. You chose to have these children. You can either wait until they grow up or get a damned babysitter if you want to see an R movie. You showed appalling self-centeredness at bringing your kids to this show and with your display of obliviousness with the inter-aisle snack sharing.

So. Do better. Pay attention to movie ratings. They're there for knuckleheads like you. Under seven? G only. Under ten? PG at best. And a lot of times those are questionable. PG-13? 13. Duh. R is 17 and up, people. There's a reason for that rating, folks, and it's called human development. The brain is still forming. And trust me, there's no room for the ultra violence of an R rated James Bond film. Do us all a favor. Get a sitter. Or stay home and put the kids down at a decent hour. Give them a chance, for the love of Pete. Because that display of you and your family at the movies Wednesday night? Was all kinds of no.

The Southern Girl's Guide to College Football

Ah, it's that wonderful time of the year when we all gather to join in celebration, feast, and to be of good cheer together. No, I'm not talking Thanksgiving or the holidays, folks! I'm talking one of the major religions of the South: college football. It's November in America, and that means our favorite sport is on. And women of the South are just as big a fan of college football as the men. Don't underestimate us. Here's some basic rules for the discerning Southern woman when it comes to watching college ball:

Now, down South, we females know how to dress for college football games. Men wear suits and ties in the stands (or at least a nicely pressed Oxford and team cap), and you might find any proud Southern girl in the stand outfitted in Ralph Lauren skirt, impeccably matched riding boots, and diamond earrings. There's a fifth of bourbon tucked lovingly into her Chanel tote. Wallets not necessary – that’s what our dates are for. Our stadiums, like our hair, are bigger than yours. Our weather is perpetually climate.

We Southern women also know about football. We're versed. We know what a PAT, a quarterback sneak, and an offensive I formation are. Your daddy may have taught your about how to change a tire. But our daddies made sure we knew what true defensive pass interference looks like and what a chop block is. Where women from other states in the union might demur, "My, what a violent play," you can find your Southern woman shrieking from the stands something like "Catch that sumbitch and break his knee!"

A Southern girl also knows all about the rules of ticket procurement, parking, and game day. We come to expect we can only get on the waiting list for next year's season tickets this year. We know the trailers and vans start parking on Wednesday before the game at the Grove or Five Points or whatever your Southern college has named the spot where alumni park their over-sized RVs to drink and smoke what can only be described as an entire slaughterhouse of assorted meats. There are individualized smokers shaped like our mascot. Classes get canceled the Fridays before rivalry games. Live bands perform before game time in the parking lot, and they share your beer. Don't know where the stadium is? Be quiet. You'll hear it. The crowd is bigger on game day than the city that hosts the game.

Yes, booze plays a major role for most Southerners, female or male, on game day. But we're classy enough to dump out half the coke from our team mascot cup to leave room for the bourbon. You can smell it in the air after each score. It helps us sing the national anthem with verve. We've just got to be a little more careful around the halftime fireworks.

And we in the South stay at the stadium until the last rib is eaten off the smoker. Doesn't matter if our team wins or loses, there's always time for another rack to go on and another trip to the package store. We'll need that bourbon for planning for the first tailgate party of the next season, you see.

And as ludicrous as this claim will likely seem to outsiders, here, you are effectively born into loyalty toward a football team. Families carry their allegiances through generations. If you are born into a family divided (God forbid you have both OU and Texas fans in the family), then your family members will fight for your loyalty from the moment you are born. Here in the South, asking “Who do you root for?” is something akin to asking your political party, only it’s socially acceptable to talk and fight about it with and without logic. It’s the one place where “if you don’t have nothin’ nice to say” doesn’t apply. We worship God on Sunday and the SEC on Saturday.

So if you're a transplant or, heaven help you, a Northerner, perhaps this information helps you understand the nature of the Southern girl and our beloved football. Because not only is college football a matter of family loyalty, it's a matter of pride. And yeah, it's weird. But it's football. And we Southern girls love it.

Crazy to the Left of Me, Crazy to the Right

At long last, the election is over! And whether your guy won or not, you have to agree having the whole brouhaha behind us can only be better for our country.  However, I have to say I’ve been less than impressed with people who call themselves adults in the wake of the re-election of President Obama. The vitriol that existed November 5^th is evidently just as strong on November 7^th.  And it’s not just one political party I’m watching behaving badly. I’m seeing unnecessary roughness on the left AND on the right in social media, and I’m here to say: It’s time to grow the heck up, folks.

I realize everyone feels the stakes are high for our country. Frankly, I’m glad to see so many people lined up at the polls and the high level of involvement with the American political process. All of that? A good thing. But the low-blow Facebook statuses and the uber-snarky tweets are getting to me, folks. They’re like teaching a pig to sing: a waste of time and irritating to the pig.

Because we should all get it by now, right? Haven’t we all been humiliated on the field at one time or another? I remember feeling a dark despair in 2004 when the country thought it a good idea to re-elect George Bush for a second term that bordered on clinical depression. I daresay  my beloved right-wing audience remembers the bloom on that rose. “Sore Loserman”? Yeah. This ain’t America’s first trip to the bad behavior rodeo as far as our politics are concerned.

So, time for a primer for both my smug lefties and my bereft righties, methinks, concerning a little post-election concept called “sportsmanship.” We claim it’s important to teach to our children. Yet if the ugliness I’m seeing being shared online gives even an inkling about what we’re passing on? I fear for the future.

It’s about discipline and self-control, people. You show respect for yourself when you show respect for others. And, hello? How many people decided to change their mind over your Facebook status or Twitter feed? OH YEAH NONE. We teach our young to respect our opponents. They are how we become better. We welcome their challenge. We shake hands at the end of the game to thank our opponent for making us stronger, smarter, faster.

Respect the officials. Again, easy to tell your son not to argue a call with a ref. But when you show zero respect for at least the office? Not cool.  Play fair. Accept the calls. If you’re on top, offer encouragement to your opponent: the opposite of trash talk. And if you’re down, we teach our kids to get up, dust off, and get back in the game: also great advice for the good sportsman. Er, sportsperson. Sport. Yeah. Amazing what we tell our kids to do when we can't walk the walk.

There’s no pouting in sports, guys. Let’s keep it offline too, eh? Likewise, there should be no gloating. I’ve seen a kind of schadenfreude online the last couple of days that can’t bode well for anyone’s karma, I assure you. Good sports don’t take joy in the pain, suffering, or loss of another. You just say hooray for your side. Cheer in a positive manner. The displays of temper and name-calling since the election? It doesn’t suit anyone.

I mean, calling the election a sham? Saying “America died”? Ted Nugent said if you voted for Obama, you’re a pimp, a whore, or a welfare brat? That Obama is “subhuman”? Or on the other side, encouraging Republicans to move to Canada? PUH-LEASE.  

If you haven’t noticed, politics move in cycles. Once again, the victors will once again be the losers, and vice-versa. Put your boots on the ground for what you believe and go for it. But don’t be the jerk that pulls a Sharpie out of your sock after the touchdown breakdance. We’re all on the same team, guys, and that’s Team America. Is it easier for me to write this article in 2012 than it would have been in 2004? Sure. I’m not Pollyanna, and as y’all know, I don’t lean right. 

But Bush-bashing was no more sportsmanlike than Obama-bashing. I’m hoping that as a nation we can get over our election blues soon. Because left or right, we’re Thelma and Louise. We’re in this thing together. We’ll try it a different way for awhile. But we better hang on to one another. We’re in the same sedan hurtling towards the same cliff. And as Romney-backer Kid Rock once sang, time to get in the pit and try and love someone. Let’s find our similarities. We can slug it out, but we’ve got to shake hands at the end of the game. Every Little Leaguer knows it. Now you.

This Week in Wacky

What a news week! Did you catch it all? Between a hurricane, Halloween, and celebrities behaving badly, I bring you this week's resulting and thoroughly entertaining wackiness:

Hurricane Sandy. Also known as "Frankenstorm: (and yes, "Sandy Frankenstorm totally sounds like a porn star name) and "Superstorm Sandy," This drowning of New York and New Jersey shockingly snatched politics from the headlines and brought out the best in our politicians. Well, two of them. Chris Christie, Republican governor of New Jersey and Barack Obama put aside partisan politics to focus on storm relief. Too bad it took so much for our officials to stop fighting like Beavis and Butthead. But in lighter news:

Joe Simpson is gay! Papa to Jessica and Ashley (and former youth pastor) and Dallas native is divorcing their mother and his wife of of over thirty years, and according to Radar.com, it's because Joe has come out of the closet. People magazine will only demur Joe is "dating," while Radar.com identifies a 21 year old omale model as his new love interest. Move over, Dallas! There's a new soap opera in town. The Simpson family Thanksgiving dinner just got super interesting. However will you explain this situation to the grandchildren? I hope Bronx and Maxwell have a therapy fund.

Disney buys Star Wars. Yep. That sound you hear is millions of nerds wetting their pants and howling simultaneously. How will the Mouse Kingdom handle the legacy of the beloved franchise? I must admit I have mixed feelings about Leia now joining the ranks of the Disney princesses. I'm trying to picture Mark Hamill's face when he got the news. Rumor also has it that Disney already has a Star Wars episode seven in the works. Can you say Darth Maus? Maybe Disney will be the one to finally kill off Jar Jar.

Kelsey Grammer parties with his baby. Kelsey Grammer and his new young wife (his third? I lose count) made headlines this week when they took their two month old daughter Faith with them to a costume party at Hef's. That's right! The Grammer family partied down at the Playboy Mansion while their newborn slept in her car seat in the foyer, according to TMZ.com. Better yet? Katye Grammer (and I'm sorry, but Kayte deserves a smack on general principle for the spelling of her name alone) evidently went dressed as Kelsey's ex-wife Camille Grammer. Now THAT is cold.

Octomom's in rehab. First of all, I hate that name: Octomom. She's like a supervillian with that moniker. She doesn't fight crime, she fights dirty diapers. Nadya Suleman is her name, and she's claiming she got addicted to downers with all the stress of having eight children and her failed porn ventures. The twist? Evidently Michael Lohan, father to Lindsay, set an intervention with his new intervention company. I wish, oh I wish, how I was making this up. But in the end, I get it. With that many kids, the only way you're going to get a nap is to check into the hospital.

Chris Brown is still offensive. Chris, along with his entourage, made the stellar decision this Halloween to dress up as...wait for it...the Taliban, complete with checkered kerchiefs and long fake beards. Additionally, the boys posed holding an assortment of weapons for photos. Sigh. Is there a bad decision Chris Brown hasn't made? And we wonder why the terrorists hate us.

And finally, Gene Hackman smackdown! Hackman and his wife were leaving a restaurant when they were approached by a homeless gentleman who, when rebuffed, called Mrs. Hackman a very, very ugly word that starts with "C" that we could never print in such a fine, family-friendly publication. Gene's response? I believe in layman's terms, it's called a "bitch slap." When you've been smacked in the face by Gene Hackman, you know you've been doing it wrong.

And those were my favorite in the week in wacky. Oh, America. You never fail to entertain. Ta-ta for now, my news junkie lovelies. Be sure to tune in next week where only more wackiness can surely ensue.

Random Acts of Kindness

So I'm sitting on a bench in my home town's downtown on Halloween dressed in my full witch regalia, trying to keep the wind from blowing off my large pointy hat while simultaneously trying to prevent pulling a Britney in my too-short witch's dress (see previous blog about inability to buy non-sexy costumes for females).


I've been hired to interview the costumed kiddos on camera, and I'm waiting on the crew to show. I'm chronically early as usual. Behind me, there is an antique store. There's a woman working on the window display, so she is coming in and out of the store looking at it, and since I'm plopped down in front of it, she's also looking at me. She's come and gone a couple of times, checking out her window from the outside. We smile. And then she says to me: You know, you're much too pretty to be a witch.

Fast forward to yesterday. I'm shopping on the same downtown square area. One merchant compliments my shirt. The other stops to compliment my hair, saying she might copy my style for her own. And I'm grinning from ear to ear. Yes, I'm a bit vain. I can own it. But my point is this: my day was made.

Yep, I'm here today to talk about random acts of kindness and the impact they have. I didn't know those people who were so generous with their compliments. And yet they had a huge impact on my spirit because when they thought something good about me, they told me. Thanks, guys. It's hard out here for those who think and feel. And I had already bought something, so no cynicism allowed, dear reader. These were just kind women.

And I'm here to encourage the rest of us to indulge in random acts of kindness, too. If the impact for others is anything like how I felt after being complimented by strangers, we can do a whole lot of healing in this divided land. And of course, I have ideas.

So here's some ways for you to build your karma up and commit a random act of kindness:

Make eye contact and smile. Some of us have gone awhile since seeing a friendly face. Instead of ignoring the people around you, send a little prayer or good wish towards someone as you smile at them. I believe in the impact of the energy.

Speak. Now, I grew up in the South. Civilized people simply didn't NOT say something to someone you're sharing space with. It doesn't have to be a monologue. Try: Hi there. Or: How are you? Even: Good morning! can be a game changer considering what you've been through since your feet hit the floor this morning.

Compliment. If you see something about someone you like, say so. Whether the person is wearing killer shoes, has a great manicure, or a welcoming attitude, say something to them about it. It's amazing how much "I like your sweater" can actually mean. Related:

Praise work well done. Good service experiences can be few and far between. Thank your waitress as well as tipping her. Speak up about the experience of a positive attitude or going the extra mile. Be grateful for people who clean up after you or check you out at Target.

Express gratitude. Phone someone today who made or is making a positive difference in your life and express your thanks for their care and help. Write a letter to an important relative or mentor about what their presence has meant in your life. If possible, read it to them. You have no idea the great feelings this exercise can bring for you and others.

Acts of service. Let someone go ahead of you in line at the grocery store. If you're liquid enough, it's always fun to pay for the food for the guy behind you in line anonymously. It's easy and fun to do at drive in windows or Starbucks. I like to pick someone about three people behind me in line who's already ordered. Keep it a secret for extra fun and giggles.

Help someone out with their groceries or return their cart for them. Throw someone's newspaper closer to their front door while you're out walking. Find ways to give secret gifts. Leave a five under somebody's mouse at work who might be hurting financially. Buy flowers for no reason for someone. Remember, though: the best acts of service are free.

Yep, color me egotistical if you must. But when that woman got on the elevator in Atlanta with me a few years ago, looked at me dressed for a banquet and said to me, "Oh my! You're just so beautiful!"? I did. I swooned a little bit. Look past my self-esteem issues if you will, however, with me, to see the beauty of a stranger boosting up another person. I will never forget you even though I will never know your name. Your kindness will never be forgotten. Spread some around today! I'm here to tell you: it feels great on either end.

Halloween: Now With Less Sluttiness

Ah, Halloween. I've loved the holiday as long as I can remember. I still adore watching Linus wait for the Great Pumpkin to rise from that earnest pumpkin patch. What's not to love about All Hallows' Eve? Panhandling for free candy and stuffing one's face with fat and sugar is as American a holiday as they come. God bless the USA, Willy Wonka, the Mars empire, and the entire Hershey kingdom. And stuffing my face with little candy bars actually does convince me for a day that fun does, indeed, come in a size.


Ever since I donned my very first plastic mask with the slit to breathe through (why did those eye holes never line up? You always had to just pick an eye), I have been enamored, nay, enraptured by Halloween. There was nothing more exciting than the time to put on those great drugstore costumes that threatened to go up in flames if you waved them over a Jack O'Lantern and go threaten your neighbors in exchange for carbs.

As an adult, Halloween only got better and better with the arrival of the drinking age and the addition of slasher flicks. A year without a viewing of Carrie or seeing Jamie Lee Curtis scream her head off for the million and eleventh time? Halloween blasphemy.

Yep, I love me some Halloween. And speaking of costumes: I still dress up! I'm a good witch (excepting certain sensitive times of the month) with a great hat. But there is one aspect of Halloween that seems to have developed since I was a kid in my plastic Wonder Woman gown. It seems that costumes for females have become increasingly...comment se dit?...slutty.

Think about it. Now every costume has a "sexy" version for women. You're not just a pirate, a cat, or a bumblebee if you are a female. You are a "sexy" pirate, bee, or bumblebee. It's tramp-o-riffic out there, I tell you. We as a gender need alternatives. You have me. So in that vein, here's some non-slutty costume ideas for females that might just work for you:

Hillary Clinton. All you need are big sunglasses, a pantsuit, a blonde ponytail, and a phone to constantly send texts on, a la the "Texts From Hillary" meme. Oh, and a face that means business.

Elizabeth Warren. Okay, don't go as Massachusetts Senate candidate Elizabeth Warren. No one will get it, and you will probably lose friends.

An Olympic gymnast.  Got a one-piece swimsuit? Accessorize that baby with red, white, and blue duct tape, make yourself a medal, and you are good to go. Optional: the unimpressed attitude of McKayla Maroney.

Big Bird. He's big, he's popular, he's been in the news. And he's definitely not slutty. Wear a sandwich board that says "Will Work for Birdseed" for extra creativity points. Bonus: your partner can be Snuffleupagus. Your choice whether or not to go old school Sesame Street and have other grownups unable to see Snuffy.

A cop. I kind of like Agent Scully from The X Files. Again: a pantsuit, a weapon, a badge...and attitude. Cuffs are optional. And no cop wears a skirt and fishnets, by the way. It's very hard to fight crime in six inch heels.

Cleopatra. Queen of the Nile, baby! Had Caesar AND Mark Antony after her. Just hang on to your asp.

Thelma and Louise. I love this one, because you and your girlfriend can go together. Bandannas! T shirts! Boots! And...mom jeans. Sorry, but it's not Thelma and Louise without mom jeans. And all night you can turn to one another, clasp hands and yell "Whee!" like you're running your car off a cliff.

Marge Simpson. Big blue hair, a shift, some pearls. Marge is an easy, breezy cover girl who runs her household smoothly and still holds the attention of her man without showing a lot of skin. Her groan is easily mimicked.

Joan of Arc or Mother Teresa. Quite modest. And you'll shock everyone when you do shots.

The Statue of Liberty. Just don't invite home the huddled masses.

Princess Leia. Now, Princess Leia is pretty covered up. But unlike in Star Wars, you'll want to wear a bra under your costume. Carrie Fisher wasn't allowed to wear one because, and this is a true story, George Lucas said there was no underwear in space. Bet you'll never watch that movie the same way again, will you?

A Pilgrim. As the right wing contingency seems to want to turn back the clock, why not dial past the 1950's all the way to Puritan times?

Here's hoping some of these suggestions will inspire you to challenge the over-sexualization of women's Halloween costumes. There are more options than sexy barmaid, sexy vampire, or sexy anything. Joking aside, let's not pick something to wear that sets back the female gender too far, eh? Here's hoping you keep your dignity. Because friends? Don't let friends dress like sluts for Halloween.

Hey, Girl. Let's Talk Politics.

Hey, girl. We gotta talk politics. Because no one puts baby in a binder, right? If you're a female, there's really only one choice for you this fall. And I get it. Most of you here in the Collin County Texas area, you're Team Romney, Team NObama; I get it. Some of you even are so misguided you believe it doesn't matter who gets elected, that it's just one millionaire against another and it doesn't matter who is elected. I wish I understood. As a female voting in 2012, however, it's crucial to ask yourself some hard questions. Because it does matter who runs our country for the next four years. Riddle me this:

Who's the candidate working for equal pay for women? Women are still paid 75 cents for every dollar men are paid. Obama gets this, because he was raised by a single mom. Are you familiar with Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Restoration Act to help women get equal pay for equal work? Because that's the first bill your president signed into law.

Got education? Obama's making it within reach. If you were to divorce or lose your job, you could be educated to take the reins for yourself. Education shouldn't just be for the rich in this time of soaring educational costs. Have you seen the tuition rate at the University of Texas? That’s why he doubled funding for Pell grants, fought hard to stop student loan interest rates from rising, and worked to raise the standards in our K–12 schools so our students are prepared for college.

Got daughters? Malia and Sascha are two more reasons to vote Obama if you're female.
Let's face it folks, Sasha and Malia are adorable.There's just something about young kids in the White House. Decisions that are made day in and day out in the White House have real consequences, sometimes for generations. Children help keep us keep grounded, and serve as Mother Nature's reality check. And the president is surrounded by a family of females, so he has a real window into how best to empower the women he is raising with Michelle.

Which candidate believes in our equality no matter where you start from? And let's face it, folks: where you end up? Pretty much depends on where you start. The fundamental American dream is that no matter who you are or how you started out, you can make a better life for yourself and your family if you’re willing to work for it.

 Who will fight for our right to make our own health-care decisions? Thanks to the historic health-care reform he signed, insurance companies will have to provide access to preventive services like contraception and cancer screenings without a co-pay. And they’ll no longer be able to make us pay more for health insurance just because we’re women.Before health care reform, women were much more vulnerable than men to high health care costs. Before health care reform, simply being a woman was considered a preexisting condition. Insurance companies would regularly charge women nearly double for coverage, even when maternity care was not included.

According to Bernard Whitman, author of 52 Reasons to Vote Obama, Under the new provisions in the Affordable Care Act, women will have access to the care and family planning services they need, saving some women up to $600 annually, or about $18,000 during the course of a lifetime. More than 50 percent of women eighteen to thirty-four say they've struggled to afford birth control.

Providing contraception coverage will also save employers money. The National Business Group on Health estimated that employers would pay 15 to 17 percent more not to provide coverage than they would to provide it, after accounting for both the direct medical costs of potentially unintended and unhealthy pregnancy and indirect costs such as employee absence and reduced productivity.

So, ladies, I get it. You like Romney for some reason: you're probably wealthy. You think "Tagg" was a cute name choice. You're a fan of dancing horses. Okay, actually, I'll admit it: if you're a female and voting Romney, I don't get it at all. We females know that money for weapons and congressman's salaries are not our priorities. Education, health care, and equality for females is good for our country. And only one candidate didn't need to call for a binder of women to get their opinions.

So think about stepping outside the box, ladies. I know I'll get some blowback from my dear conservative readers here. But we can keep it our little secret, ladies. You don't have to tell your husband or family. We'll keep it on the DL, if you must, your vote for Obama. But don't set America back. Don't set women back. A vote for Obama is a vote for women.

Them Election Blues

Holy cow with the American presidential election. Have you had it yet? With the media vitriol? With your in-laws' Facebook posts? With the punditry and talking heads and the spin, spin, spin? I'm like Scarlett O'Hara over here: War, war, war! I'm just so tired of talking about this old war! I'd much rather eat barbecue. But alas, with the endless candidate debates and campaign appearances of Obama/Biden and Romney/Ryan, there just seems to be no way around listening to talk about the 2012 presidential election. Depression? Anxiety? Trouble sleeping? Of course! It's election season.

Now, don't get me wrong! I am an involved citizen and an impassioned voter. I have voted in every presidential election since...well, let's just say since I was eighteen and keep my illusion of youth. I thoroughly believe in an educated citizenry. It is our most important right as Americans, and you must vote. Particularly if you're a woman. And it's best if you know a little bit about the millionaire for whom you're about to cast that vote.

So therein lies the rub. I've got to stay informed, but I'd also like to keep from having a cardiac event while waiting for November 7 to be here. I've got to stave off them election season blues and the stress associated with the associated media surrounding it. Thus: I bring you some time-worn suggestions for staying mellow for the last month of this excruciating campaign season that are working for me thus far:

Process your feelings. I call this cursing at the television. I also have a nice large car sponge upon which I have written words like "LYING LIAR" and "SHUT THE HELL UP" and "EAT A POO SANDWICH." It doesn't hurt my TV screen at all when I fling it at commercials funded by Super PACs. It is perfectly fine to shout at your television in any language you prefer as long as there are no small children lurking about to scar. I frequently debate Wolf Blitzer myself. What can that man know? He calls that thing on his face a beard.

Soothe yourself.  Do a guided imagery exercise. It's Christmas. There's a log blazing in the fireplace. Santa is due and this Band-Aid of an election has already been ripped off. I buy myself a pair of shoes for every debate my candidate muffs. My presidential motto: A handbag for every gaffe! Or perhaps some good old fashioned comfort food to ease the pain and give the belly a hug. Macaroni and cheese says, "It's alright, honey. I'm here for you even when the politicians break your heart." I suggest Ben and Jerry's and a nice puppy, kitty, or baby video from the internet. The combination is like being back in the womb. Related:

The debate drinking game! Drink if Obama blames Bush, references the 47% or Bin Laden, or says "millionaires" or "billionaires." Drink if Mitt touts his plan to add 15 million jobs in four years or says "entrepreneur," "small business," or "private sector." Drink if either of them refers to each other in the third person, compliments the other man's wife, or refuses to answer a moderator's question. A candidate goes overtime? TAKE A SHOT! And if anyone utters the word "freedom"? Finish that drink.

The good old fashioned bitch session. Gather your like-minded people to you to complain and complain and complain and complain and complain. Watch Bob Roberts or Red Dawn together. Participate in a little group think. It's good to be agreed with. Twitter is a great place to cherry-pick a support team that's so like-minded, you'll think them Borg. It's the social media version of sticking your fingers in your ears and screaming LA LA LA! There's a time an a place for bipartisan, good-natured debate. But then there's the times I want to talk about what a moron that other guy is and be agreed with.

So here's to survival of the fittest over the next four weeks as we go careening towards Election Day.  Let's be kind to one another in these last days. Tension is high. We've all made up our minds. We're just waiting to pull the trigger. Let's not get trigger-happy with one another in the meanwhile, shall we? Because in the end and on election day, I'm thinking we're probably just getting a choice between that poo sandwich on rye or on pumpernickel no matter what we order anyway.