Zackula: If you can imagine Laura Dern wearing the costume for Halloween it probably should not be classified as "sexy."
Dr. Thorpenstein: And we thought the Fozzie dress was lazy-sexy. If it weren't for the suggested hot pants pairing, this could be my sexy Halloween costume.
Zackula: Those aren't even hot pants on that woman. Those are just a thing that contains where her butt isn't. Like a triple-wrapped rubber band around the dregs of a bag of frozen spinach.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I guess we can be thankful for this half-assed shit, because I don't think we really need to know what a REAL sexy Donatello costume looks like. It's probably horrifying.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Hey, be nice, you'd be hard pressed to gain weight if all you had to eat was pizza that had been in the sewer.
Zackula: I'm just saying if you're going TMNT and sexy woman there is an obvious choice of character and the costume would be super easy. You just attach a little monster face to your stomach.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Or you eat some glowing green stuff and wait for the devastating health effects to make your body grotesque.
Dr. Thorpenstein: Do they still make Surge?
Zackula: No, but you can get the same effect from a Monster energy drink you leave in a BPA water bottle in your hot car.
Dr. Thorpenstein: If you mix Four Loko with a Five Hour Energy, it's chemically identical to The Ooze.
Zackula: Throw in a Doritos Loco Taco and you've got yourself a sexy Bebop.
Dr. Thorpenstein: I've already got myself a sexy Bebop. His name is Zack Parsons, and I'm officially asking him to be my Halloween date.
Zackula: The honor is all mine, David, to escort you to to the corn party.
Dr. Thorpenstein: My hole will be buttered up and ready to shuck.
David Thorpe is currently writing a series of articles exploring the new book by Creed's Scott Stapp for the Village Voice. Zack Parsons has still written that weird science fiction novel he won't shut up about.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.