She Likes It

Halloween 08

Given the really horrible costumes I've had over the years (and this year's was no exception), I wouldn't be surprised if you thought that I hated Halloween.

But I suppose it has something to do with the fact that I appreciate all things silly that instead I actually *adore* the whole gamut of goofiness that has to do with the 31st of October. You know, like that picture to the left. Zombie? check. Silly afro manufactured by me? check. Sitting on my desk at work and horrifying my boss? check and check.

We've done some celebrating already (as I mentioned in my previous post) to include a costume party out in Redmond, which was pretty spectacular. All costumes (save mine, it goes without saying) were pretty fantastic.  But despite my baby fit that I had right before leaving the house, I had a great time. Maybe next year I can be spared the horror of "what are you again?" and have a decent outfit. Fingers crossed. We also went to a spooky themed potluck in Ballard last Friday. The Eerie Eyeballs were a hit. I should mention that I got them from this lady's site. Starbuck and Apollo were there. Geek heaven! Also, tonight is pumpkin carving (although the Companion Cube thinks he's going to be playing his new game - insert evil laugh here).

That said, I don't know what I'm more excited about this year: Halloween or finally getting past next Tuesday and having this freaking election cycle FINALLY be over. I'm sick of hearing, talking, and thinking about it.  Blech.

Muffin trip highlight: Where is

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, not really, but I've always wanted to steal Snoopy's opener.

Anyway, it actually was the 29th of October. Muffin, Beard Boy and I dressed up in our sweet costumes and meandered to our local bar-de-bar-bar, The C Swell. We sadly did not win the costume contest, but we drank and oogled the awesome bunny next to us. For some reason I thought the fact that he had a carrot was award winning and bullied everyone around us into voting for him. That is until I saw the Girl Scout. As you can see from the picture I swiped from the Swell, he was AWESOME. And he won, as he should.

So, it was a good night. We drank and rang up an award winning tab and closed down the place. In the 1/2 block stumble home, I somehow got it in my pirate patched head that Muffin needed to see my French Trip Video (undisclosed year). Ah yes, the joys of high school memories on VHS. I think I wanted to show her how much I haven't changed since I was a sophmore. Yes, in high school. Or something like that. Who knows? I was drunk. She must have been too because she said she wanted to see it. Or she could have been being nice.

We burst into the apartment and I headed straight for the movie/video game/cd rack. The French Trip Video was not there. WHAT?! I spent the next 20-30 minutes searching for it in our tiny-tiny apartment, punctuated by my shouts of, "Beard Boy! What have you done with my FRENCH TRIP VIDEO?!" He refused to admit that he had stolen it. But he had, I know it. I probably would have spent more time on my fact-finding mission, but I was finally berated by Muffin for being obsessive. What?! Me obsessive? Nooo. And what were the two of them doing while I scoured the place? Watching Beard Boy's "Day in the Life" video of him and his college freshman FRO. I wish I had a still for you to observe.

Why Beard Boy has hidden/stolen/thrown away my precious memories is beyond me. All I know is that it is gone and he won't tell me where he put it. WAH!

P.S. As always, awesome drawing by Drew

Bad Costume Countdown: #2 Cat and Mouse

I would never win a spot on The Apprentice: Martha. Hateful Jim? Yeah, he's got more talent than I do. Need proof? Not willing to take my word for it? Well, Hell, just take a look at the costumes I made for Halloween 1999:

My big idea, as I hope you can see, was that he'd be a mouse and I'd be a cat. Gee, I'm so clever! And really, I didn't (and don't) despise The Economist, despite the fact that my poorly made costume was clearly better than his disastrously made costume.

No, really.

I was trying with all my creative and sewing might (which I realized, far too late, was not much might at all) to make a reasonable facsimile of a mouse, except, well, like I said, I clearly have no talent. No, sirree!

There's not even a good story to go along with these costumes. I figure they're so bad, they don't need one. Except I probably should note, The Economist wore that thing - even the awful headband/mouse ears - all night and didn't complain once. I'm sure massive amounts of brown liquor helped. Regardless, that fact is still impressive.

Bad Costume Countdown: #3 Aphrodite

Halloween 1997. I wasn't planning on going out that night, seeing as I had no costume plans nor plans for attending any parties. But, as in all things that generally are misguided, I let myself get talked into this evening pretty easily. My roommate wanted to go out and so I threw something together and headed out to what would be an interesting* evening.

Let's examine the costume first before we delve into what would be the first chink in my roommate-friendship armor.

First, I'm sure you're asking yourself, what the Hades is she supposed to be? Clearly my roommate was more prepared. What with the white face make-up and other mime-like outfit particulars, it was clear who she was. But me? I had to tell everyone that I was "Aphrodite! Goddess of LUUUV" in a progressively loud and drunken manner throughout the night. Why I thought braiding my hair (Exhibit A) and a simple white dress (Exhibit B) would suffice as a costume is really beyond me. Oh so creative! And can someone tell me what is UP with my boobs in this picture (Exhibit C)? Not my boobs, that's for sure. I SWEAR, my boobs do not regularly sag to my elbows even now, 7 years later. I'm guessing the dress was a little tight on top or something equally dreadful which led to this unfortunate squish down effect. Yikes! And...that was it. Yup, white dress, braided hair and sandals. Oh yeah, I'm a Greek goddess. Can't you tell?

So that's the set up for the evening. A bad costume always predicates the need for drinking. Unfortunately, my roommate was not so much of a drinker. This is evidenced by the fact that she forced** me to start the night with tequila shots. Now, everyone has that one alcohol that produces a strange effect. For some it's whiskey that makes them mean, for me, tequila makes me, well, to put it mildly, a bit of a slut. So now you know where this is heading.

Midway though the evening my roommate phoned up this pal*** of hers and invited him to meet us out. He was reluctant at first but we some made ill-advised promises and about an hour later he showed up - sans costume - at the bar. We drank, we danced, we flirted and basically had a good time. The good news was that no embarrassing fall downs or pukings occurred nor did the roommate and I make out as we had promised. The bad news was that when my roommate went to the bathroom, her pal decided to put the moves on me. Perhaps he had started to believe all my "Goddess of LUV" announcements. Perhaps he was frustrated by the aforementioned reneging. Whatever the reason, I obliged him by quite disgustingly making out with him right there on the dance floor. Who does that?! Perhaps I had started to believe all my "Goddess of LUV" announcements.  Wait! I do believe that, but sadly I don't think Aphrodite is in the habit of honing in on their friends' men. Sigh. I have no excuse.

But that was not the only humiliation of the evening. Oh no...The extra bad news was that my roommate wasn't actually in the bathroom, but standing outside the bar looking in through the huge window at our display. She totally caught us in the act. She didn't make a scene at the bar though, luckily, and so I had no idea I was busted.

That is, until the next morning when she asked me, "What's the deal with you macking on (God, I forgot his name!) last night?"

My response? "What's "macking" mean?"

Luckily she wasn't that hurt and accepted my apologies. But I did learn something from that evening and that something is, stay away from the slut-juice, C Ro, stay away!

---

* Interesting of course involves doing something I'm not quite proud of.
** Well, maybe not forced, but I knew better.
*** And by "pal" I mean "man she regularly slept with but with whom she had no formal relationship."

Muffin Trip: Costumes

I just got half of the pictures back from Muffin's trip. I got this awesome shot of our Halloween Costumes (see below). Oh yeah, we went all out. We did actually go all out with the drinks though. Sunday's was the worst hangover of the week.  Beard Boy and I barely could sit up straight at dinner with Muffin and JO on Sunday night.

Anyway, while I was looking over our 2005 Halloween costumes, I got to thinking about Halloweens from the past and dug up some pictures.  I'll be posting them up this week for your viewing pleasure. Note: one of them is the infamous "tampon" costume. I just know you can't wait.

Game on!

At this moment, Muffin and JO are about 20 minutes away from the SEA-TAC airport, hopefully getting some sleep, because they ain't getting any shut-eye this weekend. No, sirree! And it's a good thing I don't have 7 people coming from out of town for work next week. Ha! Anyway, I've decided to tell an embarrassing story about everyone that comes to visit. You might think this would be an anti-incentive, but I don't think so. I think this is a way to prove my love, nay, my undying affection for those who want to have not just a good time, but a good time with me. Or, er, something like that...

Well, I thought of about 101 stories to tell about my beloved Muffin, including how she got that rarefied moniker, but instead went for the crass, as I always do. You see, a couple of years ago, Muffin got a new Boss's Boss. This new VP's name was Richard, and like most old, white Richards, he went by the nickname, Dick. So one day the CEO needed to talk to Dick. But Dick couldn't be found. The CEO's executive assistant called around the department, but only Muffin was at her desk. She answered the phone and the CEO's EA asked Muffin to find Dick for him. Of course, Muffin didn't know where Dick was. She wasn't Dick's keeper. But she looked around anyway and saw that her boss's door was closed. She thought maybe Dick was talking to her boss in there. She knocked on the door, peeked her head in and said to the general meeting of about 5 men, "I'm looking for Dick." There was, of course, an awkward silence. Then someone snickered. I have to tell you, I find it so amazing that she didn't spin on her heel, go back to her cubicle, pack up her things and leave for good. I would have.  But no, she's such the consummate professional that even while her face turned bright red, she merely looked around, closed the door and pretended that wasn't the awesomest thing ever mentioned in an insurance meeting.

And this, this is one of the many reasons I love Muffin. No, not that she lets me steal her stories and post them online, although that's one of them, too. No, it's that she's freakin' hilarious and not always on purpose.