Your Weirdest Secret Habit

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I have a theory. There are actually very few things that bond humanity together. Of those limited, precious facets of connectivity is this one: when a person is alone, that person gets weird. Privacy is a privilege, one everyone should feel the need to exploit when they have access to it. Perhaps you’re prone to cooking naked while blasting holiday soundtracks in the middle of summer. Maybe you have conversations with inanimate objects in various accents. You definitely masturbate, but that’s a given.

Surely you’re much more creative than I and do something truly strange, and I’d love to know what that is—in this week’s Pissing Contest, you’ll need to reveal your weirdest secret behavior. Bonus points if there’s a narrative that partners an idiosyncrasy, particularly if someone walked in on you doing it. Make me laugh, sheeple!

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Before all that noise, here are last week’s winners: these are your greatest Halloween party faux pas.

DammitPam, this is so charming:

When I was a youngster, I decided to dress like a hippy for Halloween. It was the mid 80's and I had been a toddler during the summer of love so I was aware of hippies but had never really paid any attention to them. This was before the internet so I was going on this vague cultural memory which is to say...I didn’t know much: long straight hair, flowers, etc. So I decided to make a big peace sign out of cardboard to hang around my neck but I had never actually paid much attention to it so I ended up with...the Mercedes Benz logo. Everyone thought I was being clever and ironic: A hippy with the Mercedes logo! But, really, I was just a dumbass.

Madame Leota’s Balls, this is hilarious:

This was during later college years, so later 80's. Went to a house party of a friend of the person I was dating. We went as Zombie Jackie O and Dead Kennedy (always fond of Halloween costume puns). As DJFK, I had fake blown out brains and blood on the side of my head, and wore a cheap consignment shop suit in which I literally rolled around in dirt that morning. Arrived at the party and we were horrified to see photos and other JFK memorabilia all over the house. Turns out the friend’s parents whom I was meeting for the first time were classic, stereotypical JFK stans from the early 60's. Ooops. It was extremely uncomfortable, as the parents weren’t outright mean or upset, just this overly controlled, chilly demeanor to just us. That was almost worse. I was told the next day we were never allowed back. I still squirm a bit when I think about it, but it was a great costume concept.

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Deep State Class of ‘97, sounds like a good party:

One of my friends was selling tickets for a booze cruise just about a week before Halloween. He told me it was a costume party. It was like $35. All you can drink for 3 hours. So we figured we would go as Skipper and Gilligan. I was Skipper. He was Gilligan.

As we walk up to the boat we noticed that every single other person on the boat was dressed as a pirate. It was probably 50 people. All dressed as pirates. Really elaborate pirate costumes too. To the point where they made fun of people who dressed up as the Johnny Depp pirate. They told us they do it every year. And people plan all year for it. Most of the people thought it was funny that Gilligan and Skipper were there.

Besides, every one stopped laughing at us when they saw 4 other people who didn’t get the Pirate memo. And they showed up dressed as the Golden Girls.

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OprahWasAnInsideJob, I stand by YOU:

A faux pas I stand by, but:

A few years ago I attended a house party as Sia, eye-covering wig and all. Around 3am I was drunk, hot, itchy, and decided I had fulfilled my duty. The host (my friend’s roommate) was super diligent about people coming and staying in costume, so he chewed me out. I said I was simply Sia at home (my hair was cut just like her actual hair, also blonde).

He was also drunk, and started to fight with me, saying Sia was an ugly woman. I thought it was funny and chewed him out for having such a dumb and wrong opinion. He left and after an hour or so no one could find him. Apparently I had bummed him out by skirting the party rules and he had been sulking on the porch.

So, yeah. Managed to get the guy to leave his own party because Sia is a beautiful woman that deserves some respect.

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Elvez, you should win, if only because this is the only story that made me feel physically ill:

One year I was at a Halloween party, pretty drunk, standing in the kitchen and eyeballing this pile of candy in the corner of the counter. Eventually I grabbed this little brown box with fancy writing on it and saw the words “dipped in cognac” and opened it to find four little brown sticks that my mind instantly told me must be, like, mint or cookie sticks with chocolate on them. So I took one out and just popped it in my mouth without any further investigation or consideration, and started chewing. I’m lucky I was so close to the door to the side yard because they were actually little mini cigars. I was drunk enough to swallow that shit before I realized what was going on and spent the rest of the night puking in the bushes.

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IronMaidenForm now with Pence-Trump Stress Disorder, this story has traumatized me:

When I worked for one of the big type houses in my home town, I was told over and over again how important it was to dress in costume for Halloween because the owner really liked it. It was mentioned repeatedly, starting in September, by everyone - managers, QCers, proofers, everyone. So I made sure come in costume as Conan the Librarian: faux fur dress, cardigan, glasses on a chain, hair in a bun, sensible shoes, and enormous bone with “Quiet Please” written on it.

And I was the only one in costume.

I thought it was a prank pulled on the new kid until I noticed the funny looks. Turned out layoffs were being announced that day, and no one had thought to tell me because I was not in any danger of being laid off (I was making payroll for them with my account). Eventually it was realized I hadn’t been told and really wasn’t being an enormous asshole but that was 28 years ago and I still feel like an asshole.

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Get honest in the comments below. Remember, you have an anonymous handle to hide behind.

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About the author

Maria Sherman

this is my day job: senior writer at jezebel