Whip It

So I took the kids shopping for their Halloween costumes this weekend. Even though she was leaning towards a trampy zombie cheerleader costume, Zoey ultimately opted for a nice, safe, Daddy-approved ladybug outfit. Zed, who's obviously caught up in the Twilight craze, is going to be a vampire. While we were looking at all the scary masks, Zoey asked, "What's this, Daddy?"

My mind was elsewhere [see the special note below], so she asked again, "What's this, Daddy?"

I turned around and found my daughter holding this:

"That? That?" I stammered. "That is a, um, PUT THAT DOWN!"

Seriously, Party City, what the hell? I know it's all cool to sex up every traditional costume, but do you really need to sell whips?

Special note for the guys: I highly recommend a trip to Party City, especially if you live near one that has a large quantity of college-aged customers. See, they don't have mirrors in their dressing rooms because during the eleven other months of the year, those dressing rooms are storage closets. So when all the college girls try on their slutty sailor, slutty superhero, slutty witch, slutty vampire, slutty Ghostbuster, slutty schoolgirl, slutty nurse, slutty French maid, slutty devil, slutty cheerleader, slutty pirate, and slutty slut costumes, they have to come out of the dressing room to look at themselves in the mirror.

No need for thanks, just send money.

Or pics.

P.S. This and this are just plain wrong.