I'm the worst movie watcher ever, I swear.
Halloween itself was a mixture of fun and fiasco. My friend contracted a nasty case of both Strep and Tonsilitis, so she was out of commission. Unfortunately, that means my T-1000 costume would be weird and out of place without an Ahnold chasing me. So I did whatever any good friend would do and stole the fuck out of her costume idea. I had an office contest to win and I'll be damned if I'm going to lose to a bunch of 40-somethings who wore the same costume for the past three years in a row. Thursday morning I woke at 4 to ensure I had enough time to prepare this masterpiece:
God damn, I'm beautiful.
Of course, I ended up losing to a 40-something dressed as Flo from the insurance commercials. She was excited and told us all how she got the costume for five dollars on a sale rack somewhere if we wanted to do the same thing next year. Interestingly, it's the same woman who won the pumpkin carving contest with a stencil she bought at Target. Someone else carved our city's skyline complete with a little sign for our business on our building, a friend and I carved our supervisor's face.... I'm not saying I'm calling shenanigans, but I'm a little disappointed any time store-bought and mass-produced stuff wins contests.
Whine whine, bitch bitch, moan moan.
For the evening's festivities, I decided that a popular goth/BDSM club would be the perfect place to dance my leather jacket off. I myself have never been to this place before, but the stories of live bondage shows and industrial music are rather titillating. We roll up to the club using the public bus system. Lemme just take a moment to say how very disappointed I am in everybody in the city for not dressing up on Halloween. For shame, all of you. OH, except for the nice lady sitting at the front in a skintight PVC suit. Over the course of the ride, she put on spiked wristbands, a spiked collar and a gimp mask. Considering I had no idea where the club was, I followed her when she got off the bus making a (correct) assumption that she was headed to the same place.
We entered down a long, dark hallway and paid our cover (apparently the whole establishment is cash-only. Who does that still?) There were tombstones and skeletons lining the dark red walls and a large dance floor made of concrete. "Great Halloween decorations!" I remarked to my friend. "Actually, this is just what it normally looks like." He replied.
I was in love.
My booty shook to Manson, Reznor and Zombie. The Devil's Rejects played silently on a large screen behind the DJ. I traded my traditional terminator look for 'Sexy Terminator' meaning I traded the leather pants for fishnets and booty shorts as well as removing the shirt under the jacket. I grinded up against Slenderman, slapped a Mario's butt (with permission, of course), got drink recommendations from Adventure Time's Finn and chatted about the Black Label nomads who let me crash at their Vienna pad with a bouncer who had my same haircut plus more dreadlocks. One my way out, I had a flyer thrust into my hands advertising their Game of Thrones-themed winter party.
I was in love.
I didn't get laid, I didn't consume large amounts of candy, I wasn't particularly drunk. But this was possibly the best Halloween I've ever had. There's something rather charming about just hanging out with friends and bonding over the lyrics of Personal Jesus. Now I'm nursing a lack-of-sleep hangover and basking in an afterglow from a good time that's lasted a couple of days. This is definitely a place I'll be returning to.
But still, I wish I won that damn costume contest!
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