Hallowhatever

emily_cat
Mood: Blah
Drinking: Bleah

I usually love Halloween.

Last year I wore two costumes, one for day, one for night. (I tend to overcompensate for a costume-less childhood: Growing up on a farm meant minimal trick-or-treating.)

This year, I put just the barest minimum of effort into my transformation.

At first, I wasn’t even going to bother. But then I looked around and thought, “What’s out there that already looks like me?”

One look in the mirror at my never-ending bangs and I had the answer: Emily the Strange. Just add a dress and some Mary Janes and presto sort-of-chango: Costume.

Emily is always surrounded by her cat posse, though (Miles, Sabbath, NeeChee and Mystery), so I recruited LeeLoo to the cause with a black cat costume for dogs. She’ll tolerate it, as long as the costume-wearing is quickly followed by the ingestion of cheese.

So, contrary to my early ambivalence, I woke up yesterday morning all bouncy and full of Halloween cheer. Cheer that was slowly siphoned away by the absolutely gloomy and incredibly apathetic day.

What’s up, San Francisco? We can’t get dressed up anymore just because the Man put the kibosh on the Castro Halloween tradition? Now we all have to go to work as everyday overworked employees? We can’t mix up the humdrum with a little dress-up fun? We think we’re too old to be spooktacular?

My friend K (who was Ugly Betty for the day) and I shared a morose lunch, looking out the window at all the far-too-normal passersby. For the entire hour we sat at the Utah eating our BLTs, not one costume walked by. Even on a normal day in San Francisco, you usually get more than that!

And then the ultimate deflation: Nobody at work even noticed that I was in costume. Joke’s on me, I guess… that was my original ironic intent, but it totally backfired. Either that, or nobody at my workplace pays any attention to fictional counterculture characters that start off all badass and underground and then end up turning into an overexposed Hot Topic sellout.

Boo.

I don’t know what the funk is all about… perhaps it’s because November just snuck up far too quickly this year. Perhaps it’s because my birthday (and the accompanying acknowledgement of encroaching middle age) is now truly inevitable. Perhaps it’s just because I’m overdue for a haircut.

Or maybe I was just possessed by the true spirit of Emily: “Wish you weren’t here!”

Whatever it is, it’s time to move on. I’m ready for you now, November. Bring on the birthday…

-Lo, who prefers treats unless the tricks are done by ponies.

The Best Cheerleader Is a Dead Cheerleader

Mood: Spooky
Drinking: Haunted water


Halloween was always a bust when I was a child. But I didn’t really know what I was missing. We lived waaaaay out in the country and never got any trick or treaters. My school discouraged dressing up (unless you came as some character from the Bible)and most neighbors either weren’t within walking distance or would sooner give us carrots than candy. So. Not big with the ghouls and goblins back before I grew boobs.

But now? Now, with the boobs and the city-living and the adult-ness? Now I am ALL ABOUT October 31. I’ve got quite a stash of costumes in my closet, but this year I had to recycle last year’s…with a twist. Last year me and the Loondog were Anarchy Cheerleaders. This year I am an Anarchy Cheerleader again, but I am dead.

My friends and fellow worker drones, K and S, are also cheerleaders, but from rival schools. So the story is that we all killed each other in a fit of peppy pride. Or we were all trying to screw the same football dude. Or something. (I never was a cheerleader, so I’m not entirely sure how these situations work.)

So I’m dead from a knife to the neck (lots of gooey blood), K got run over (large tire track across perky uniform), and S took a bullet to the brainpan (squish!). We expect to be awarded a nice gift certificate or something for our pains and fake blood.

Happy Halloweenie!

In even more self-absorbed news, I got tagged by one of those blogosphere things, and must answer some questions, as follows:

FIVE THINGS I PLAN TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1. Write more.
2. Read more.
3. Travel more.
4. Buy more Mary Janes.
5. Cut my damn hair off! (It’s getting ridiculously long.)

FIVE THINGS I CAN DO
1. Ride a horse. (8 years of english riding lessons, thankyouverymuch)
2. Ride a motorcycle.
3. Knit, sew, and mosaic. (They don’t deserve separate line items b/c they are all in the “crafty” category.)
4. Poetry SLAM, baby.
5. Do the goth dance. (Catch the bat, love the bat, release the bat).

FIVE THINGS I CANNOT DO
1. Vote Republican.
2. Wear Lee Press On Nails.
3. Listen to the White Stripes.
4. Talk smack about Angelina.
5. Buy a pet snake.

FIVE THINGS THAT ATTRACT ME TO THE OPPOSITE SEX
1. Tattoos.
2. Piercings.
3. Black eyeliner.
4. Motorcycle boots.
5. A really good laugh.

FIVE THINGS I SAY MOST OFTEN
1. “Fuck!”
2. “Shut up?”
3. “Hey, Bruce.”
4. “LeeLoo, sing!”
5. “Dooooooooooooooon’t.”

FIVE CELEBRITY CRUSHES
1. Franka Potente.
2. Johnny Depp.
3. Charlize Theron.
4. Asia Argento.
5. Well, of course, Angelina.
6. This one dude who’s name I cannot remember, but I WILL. And when I do, I shall write it down, because I know the Internet is just DYING to know who it is.

-Lo, who thinks that every day should at least have some halloween potential, with the black eyeliner and stompy boots and whatnot.

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