Halloween Part Deaux

November 03, 2005 - 6:49 p.m.

1999: Ok, maybe this was my coolest costume ever. Me, Belle & Hardon were old, washed-up superheroes. Fat, drunk, and aging badly from all that Kryptonite exposure. Hardon was Spiderman, with a big fat belly, a hunch back and a food addiction. He always had a sandwich in one hand and mustard smeared all over his mask. Belle was Superman, gray and fat and in a wheelchair. We stole an electric wheelchair from UIC in the middle of the night and threw it in the back of Belle’s Blazer. Something terrible happened when we were pushing the wheelchair manually. The battery started smoking and leaking acid so we had to ditch it.

I dressed as Wonder Woman, of course. Deep wrinkles, gray hair, rolls of belly fat, and huge, sagging tits. The sagging tits kept getting groped by strangers so I took them off and that’s why they’re not in these photos. These photos show Wonder Woman soliciting sex in an alleyway, being murdered while Spidey watches suspiciously from the bushes, and straining to lift a Honda Civic.

Our plan was to traipse the entire city, me drunk, Superman paralyzed, and Spiderman epileptic. And that we did. We spent the whole weekend hopping from parties to bars, entered an arm wrestling contest (we each won), joined some porch monkeys on their porch, danced with transvestites, and then Spiderman had a grand mal seizure in the middle of Borderline and Superman and I acted out a whole scene responding to a medical emergency, rushing him outside, and then laughing hysterically on the sidewalk.

That might possibly be the most fun I’ve had in my whole life.

I turned the weekend into a photo project for school and set up superhero scenarios, or rather: failed attempts at saving people, and instead succumbing to our vices and committing crimes against society. Some scenarios included: Superman breaking a chair over Spiderman’s head, eating out of a dumpster, being assaulted by children, home invasion, and my personal favorite: Trying to run “as fast as a speeding bullet” with blurry motion, but then collapsing in exhaustion.

I hung the photos up in a hallway at school, which was the standard set-up for our critiques and no lie, I came back a few minutes later and there was a crowd of thirty people standing around it, laughing their asses off. My teacher gave me a B- (after getting straight A’s) because he said, “I expect more from you than that.”

Translation: “Your humorous photos are interfering with my lucrative business of transforming the coal in my ass into diamonds.”

Whatever.

The popular vote woulda made me a shoe-in for president, I’ll tell ya.

2000: More superhero shit, which I’m sure is painfully boring to you, but at the time I was really into comic books. I was Jubilee from the X-men, who is a young Asian girl with the superpower to shoot out fireworks (awesome!). She is the young apprentice of Wolverine, and Belle made an outstanding Wolverine that year, because he went as Logan the wilderness hunter, before he became Wolverine. We walked into a party and all the nerds turned and gasped. “Ohhh SHIT! It’s Wolverine and Jubilee!”

I needed short black hair, and at the time my hair was long and red. I don’t know why I can’t seem to coordinate my real hair status with a character. Or choose a character that already has red hair. I dyed it black with a blue sheen and pinned it up to look short. What a pain in the ass. I made a pretty decent Asian girl, all things considered.

2001: All right, all right, I really don’t want to hear it. I have no shame. Or maybe you just don’t have a sense of humor. Let’s get in the ring.

Yeah…October 31, 2001, Belle and I dressed as Al-Qaeda terrorists. I had just visited the WTC disaster site a few weeks earlier so it isn’t as if I was unaffected by the event or anything. Clearly, it was Belle’s idea in the first place, as my mind could never reach the putrid depths of hell, where his resides. Part of the reason that it seemed like a good idea was that he already looks like a terrorist, with the unibrow and Neanderthal shelf on his forehead. All he needed was a beard. I needed to become the exact opposite of my physical self. The only thing that really gave me away was the green eyes, but there wasn’t much I could do to disguise those.

I was kind of afraid to leave the house. Kind of afraid that we would get lynched. We sort of ran to a party and then stayed there the whole night. Approximately 87% of the people at the party were offended and wouldn’t speak to us.

That other guy in the picture claimed he was an Anthrax victim but I thought he was pretty lame.

That same weekend I had to chaperone my niece’s Halloween party and I sure as hell couldn’t go as a terrorist. All last minute, I literally pulled this get-up out of my closet. I called myself Dead or Crazy Librarian or Church Lady.

Before the kids arrived I sat down in a big scary throne and sat perfectly motionless. No one even noticed me, because they thought I was a dummy. Once everyone was there and they were all standing around chattering with their know-it-all 10 year-old attitudes: “This isn’t scary, that isn’t scary,” I jumped straight into the air and screamed. Every single one of those kids screamed bloody murder and darted forward, running into each other, tangling costumes, some were crying, and I turned toward the highest, most piercing scream, expecting to see the girly little Princess, but it was the Cute Popular Boy. And he screamed like a woman. *Ahem* The kids were too young to realize the significance of this, the enormous weight of that scream, that could fuel years of teasing and render him a social cripple overnight. But his secret was safe with me.

Then when no one was looking I went around and “stole” every camera I could find and took secret pictures of myself, like this:

Another (perhaps bad) habit of mine. Using other people’s cameras.

2002: Gnomes. I felt like a total sell out for this one because the costumes were rented. But it was also terribly convenient. And that was the year I was fat so it was just a blessing all around that I could hide inside of that thing. It was Belle and I and again, we went to parties, sat amongst our friends, never spoke, and no one had any idea who we were. Ahhhhh Anonymity. Like a breath of fresh air.

I was toasty warm the whole night, and nothing makes people smile more than seeing two giant, friendly gnomes walking down the street. We brought joy into the lives of people everywhere.

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2003: I was Daisy Duke and I don’t have a single picture of my legs in those shorts so really, what is the point of even mentioning it? Yet another costume I pulled out of my closet at the last minute, it was 30 degrees out and nearly snowing, I froze my tits off and sat at Lemming’s most of the night with an ex-boyfriend who had a banana hat as a costume. Then I went to a party with Blake and I don’t remember anything about it other than the toilet that sat up high on a platform and it was disorienting to piss. Riveting!

2004: You remember Marla Singer, don’t you? More short, black hair goddamit and this one was even more of a pain in the ass than Jubilee was. If anything good came from that night, it’s that I walked away with a nice titties picture to show the pilot when we were first dating and he had not yet seen my titties and we were watching Fight Club and I was so nervous. So ya know, I pull out costumed and nude pictures of myself and that totally put me at ease! Works like a charm.

2005: Oh HELL I froze my booty off for sure in this one – remind me to tell my boyfriend I’m never dressing sexy for Halloween again, unless we move to Arizona. This is me in that awesome belly dancer costume he bought me in Egypt, angling and contorting my body to look thin as possible.

The first night we went to a party at Architectural Artifacts, a giant warehouse museum that houses – you guessed it – artifacts left over from buildings. If I’d had a hat, I’d have shat in it because it was the coolest party I’ve been to in years, and it was a fund raiser for a modern dance company so there were all sorts of performances going on and OPEN BAR! There was a male dancer dressed as a woman and he pranced around in 4 inch heels while the real women were barefoot and I was like, IMPRESSED. They had approximately 100-200 carved jack-o-lanterns just about everywhere, and then were invited to take some home with us when we left. Which we did.

I didn’t wear the belly dancer costume that night because I had yet to get my spray-on tan, and no human deserves the hideous sight of my white fish belly. Already, even though it’s only November, my skin looks like it was sprayed with “Snow-In-A-Can”. Same texture and everything.

Instead, I headed to my trusty closet and pulled some bullshit again – a black evening gown and fishnets. I curled my entire head of hair and put on a Mardi Gras fish mask that the pilot had gotten in New Orleans.

Not bad. And one of our friends at the party was dressed as – ohmigod – A SQUIRREL! And not just any stupid squirrel, but a TREE with a SQUIRREL in it! And you know Shawna loves her some squirrel! And not for eatin’, just for LOVIN’! And this squirrel was attached to her face in a furry – attacky sort of way and the feral mayhem of it all uplifted me for days to come. It adds minutes to my life every time I think of it.

The next day we went to a rockabilly party, with a rockabilly band and it was all good except all the action was outside and since I was 98% nude I stayed in the house and ate Fritos and drank wine by myself.

Then we moved on to the party of a tattooist girl, and would you believe we walked into a harem? The home of a real belly dancer? I felt like a poser. This girl had a harem sex bedroom for belly dancer sex. The walls were plastered with pictures of belly dancers and costumes and all sorts of Egyptian shit and camels and genie lamps. What were the odds that I should walk into a belly dancer’s house that Saturday night? Like zero. I may as well have been wearing a onesie plastic Disney Aladdin costume for how dumb I felt. She invited me to her Sunday classes so I could learn to move my Anglo/Angled ass.

Not to worry - amaretto, goat cheese and crackers made me forget all about it.

Sunday night I was at home, unbathed in my pajamas, waiting for my boyfriend to get home from work at 11pm. He called me and said, “I just got invited to a Halloween party! Want to get dressed and go?!”

Errrr….no…I wanna go to bed.

But I got dressed and went anyway, albeit a little half-assed. There was a blue grass band playing at the party, with a banjo, violin and stand up bass, so it was totally worth it. And that costume always manages to lead to hot sex….hmmm, wonder why.

Hope ya’ll had a sexy Halloween. This is the last holiday of the season that I will enjoy, which is why I dragged it out for a week. That and the sex.

PS – I’ve got a contest going here so please help me out and VOTE for Best Costume 1989-2005 – via comments, guestbook or email. Danke Schoen!

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