Zoe and I have been scheming and have decided to throw the event of the season. What season, you ask? Halloween! We’re actually pretty good at the spooky shindigs, throwing Dani a surprise costume party a few years back to great success. We’re both masters of themed food and ambiance, and you’d think we’d be experts at costumes. I mean, not only is this what I essentially majored in, it was my profession. Still, I’m stumped as to my ensemble.
In grammar school, I always found myself digging around my parent’s closet on October 30th, trying to find some sort of make-shift costume to throw together. My mother would attempt to feign enthusiasm, giving me an apron and a wooden spoon. “You’re a chef!”
One year, in the throws of puberty, self loathing and constant humiliation, I chose to wear a spandex unitard, a tinsel rainbow wig, Velcro Reebok high tops and this wire and rope contraption purchased in Disneyworld which made it look like one was walking an invisible dog. If that wasn’t horrible enough, I remember sitting alone on the bench during the costume parade, embarrassed into a rare silence and solitude. I watched a co-ed group of the 6 or 7 cool kids in my class of 28 people, a group whose collective ass I so desperately kissed, as they paraded by me costumed as the characters from the Wizard of Oz. In retrospect, they were highly unoriginal and didn’t even have amongst them a Wicked Witch of the West. Hello? But still, nothing punctuated my embarrassingly loneliness more than watching people in recognizable group costumes laughing and throwing SweetTarts at me. I mean, I think it’s safe to say that no one else had a tinsel rainbow wig and an $8 invisible dog.
Thus, this year, I don’t care what I am or who I’m with, so long as I’m dressed to correspond with others. This is the only way to remedy my childhood trauma and it’s MY goddamn party. Laura and I were thinking of going as the Cast of Adventures in Babysitting. I call Brenda. She’s called Sarah. I am open to additional cast members and additional ideas, of course.
Oh, and if any of you bitches comes to my Halloween party in a spandex unitard, shiny ass wig and shitty novelty item, your ass is grass…