Drop it Down a Little Low Like That

Every time a holiday rolls around, I'm one of those annoying commitment phobes who refuses to agree to something in case a better offer comes along. This year I eventually decided to accompany my friend Ms. Tiffany to her co-worker's Halloween party in uptown.

I liked the idea of going as a gold digger -- I had even bought a gold dress and purse, but I had planned to buy some gold spray paint for a shovel and some gold makeup, but just never got around to it. Laziness is a bitch. There's always next year, I suppose.

In the end, I chose to go as a school girl simply because it was the easiest alternative. I already had the way-too-short-for-a-26-year-old plaid skirt and knee-high stockings from a previous costume so all I did was buy some red ribbon for pigtails. I felt sort of foolish and it definitely wasn't original but when you make a habit out of waiting 'til the last minute, your options are limited.

Saturday was my mom's birthday so the family went out for a late dinner. I didn't leave the restaurant until 9:45 so by the time I got home (10), I rushed to get ready. We showed up more than fashionably late after I got incredibly lost driving to the party, but I have a feeling we didn't miss much. The party itself had a reasonably good turn-out, but I didn't know anyone and Ms. Tiffany only knew the host and one of his buddies.

The host, Dick-in-a-Box, was wasted. He desperately tried to make conversation with us, but he came off as remarkably awkward, bordering on creepy. When he went to get ice for our drinks, Ms. Tiffany said he's usually really nice and friendly, but apparently alcohol turns him into a social retard.

After he retrieved plastic cups from the kitchen, he made us vodka seven drinks and continued to sound like a complete dumbass. You couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He rambled on about how his party had turned into a "college party" and dully explained how much work went into the decorations. He talked about normal things but his demeanor was the thing that made it uncomfortable. He didn't smile or joke around. He was monotone and serious. It was just plain awkward.

Halfway through our drinks, he excused himself, announcing he would be back in "two minutes" so we decided to make a break for it. We chugged the last half of our drinks and made a beeline for the door. Sure, we could've waited for him to return and made up some lame excuse about meeting up with our friends, but the way things were going, we could tell that would've led to a twenty-minute guilt trip.

We then headed downtown to meet up with C-Sharp and PFunk and the respective crew. After sitting in traffic and having the ramp ticket feeder malfunction for the car ahead of us, I was looking forward to hanging out with guaranteed fun people. It had begun to feel a little claustrophobic at the party. By the time we got inside the bar, it was midnight. Since I got such a late start, I had to slam all my drinks/shots, but I succeeded in getting drunk by the end of the night. The "last call" drink was a godsend. It put me right over the edge.

It felt like I only danced for a total of five minutes, but it must have been a lot longer since I was stiff the next day. Funny how I can run 26 miles with minimal soreness, but the minute I exercise different muscles, soreness is sure to follow. Out on the dance floor, I met Bill Lumbergh -- a funny, dorky guy I apparently was drunk enough to talk to. C-Sharp takes credit for hooking up the love connection. Uh yeah. His pic says it all.



I snapped this photo with this blog in mind. This is what I get for saying I like IT guys.

With my short skirt, I wonder how many people saw my ass throughout the night. I bet it didn't look as good this guy's though - one of the officers from Super Troopers. Super sexy.



Hmm, no panty line, looks like he's free-ballin' it.

Last but not least, in a surprising Halloween revelation, I decided I most definitely like PFunk's girlfriend, Dorothy (she was Dorothy from Wizard of Oz). We haven't exactly been friendly towards one another so it wasn't until recently (last weekend) that I began to wonder if she were someone I could picture myself being friends with. In situations when you're forced to hang out by default, it's one thing to be tolerant of someone's company, but I've come to realize I actually kind of like her.

The defining moment occurred when she disappeared for a half hour and then randomly showed up with a black leather cat tail. We have no idea where the hell it came from, but being the mature adults we are, we used it to make obscene gestures. In photos too. Or maybe that was just me. It even received more attention than PFunk's Dick-in-a-Box costume (popular this year) complete with faux squirting penis prop.

Oh, and C-Sharp/"Pacman" Jones (I had no idea who that was) kindly reminded me to mention the fact his giant stash of fake $100 bills wound up in the cleavage of many-a-woman at the bar. Way to mark your territory. What, what.