So it is late October and that means Halloween, my favorite holiday. Yes it combines my two great interests of eating candy and dressing up in a costume.
Well I usually pull out the sewing machine and whip up some pieced together costume (like the pregnant bride, the Las Vegas showgirl, and She-Ra princess of power to name some). I had some ideas about reconstructing my circus curtains, but frankly, I just ran out of time. Therefore I put on my 1950’s white prom dress that is all tulle! I love it and it makes me feel like Sarah Jessica Parker or something. I added a pair of wings from my Unicorn Fairy costume…yes a unicorn and a fairy, and a wand to become the Tooth Fairy. I even put a sign on my purse that said “TEETH” to further get into character. Bree dressed up as a monarch butterfly with a large pair of wings and decorative makeup.
We headed down to the club Libation for a Halloween party hosted by Zog Sports. My running friend Aimee plays in a flag football league and this was their end of season wrap party. I figured flag football party = lots of athletic men. Yes, yes I agree I feel like I have been overdosing on Libation (out of all the clubs in Manhattan, why that one…again), but it was a small price to pay to hang with testosterone filled men.
Since I deprived Bree of her Friday afternoon nap (a staple for her and I), she needed a red bull. We stopped at a bodega around the corner from the club. While we were waiting for her to finish her drink and for the pouring rain to let up, she turns and says “man, that guy looks like Marshall”. I glance over to the man having a cigarette at the next awning over and agree. Then Bree says “wait, that is Marshall…hey Marshall, Marshallllll!” before I could stop her.
We headed over to talk to him and I think he was as surprised as me to see each other. We had a bad falling out and have not spoken in several months. His band had just finished their set at that venue…which is no more than 50 feet from our Halloween party. Okay talk about fate! I think he initially thought we were down there to watch his band play, but the giant fairy wings and full costume made him think reconsider. The conversation was short because A) we were running late for the party and B) the boy and I were still not cool with each other.
So we go to the Halloween costume party and saw it all. I think the most popular male costume of the night was ‘my dick in a box’. I did see a lot of cowboys/girls, flappers, pimps, vampires, cavemen, 300 I am Sparta man, etc. My favorite single costume was Teen Wolf. My favorite group of the night was five guys dressed as Care Bears. Yep, they were wearing some sort of full footed pajama with hood. Basically it looked like they had skinned a Care Bear since the stuffed head was perched on theirs (like a bearskin rug or something). They even had the heart on their butts! I talked with the guy who was Cheer Bear. He was so pissed that he showed up last and therefore got stuck with the pink one with a rainbow on the tummy. Ah ha ha ha!
Towards midnight, I stepped on the edge of my full dress and slid down a flight of stairs. Of course the drink I was carrying flew up in the air and emptied itself all over the place. I don’t know what hurt me more, landing on my arm (subsequent bruising and tenderness) or that a group of men in super hero costumes at the foot of the stairs just stood there watching me! Okay Superman, not so super are you! That was the point when I decided to leave before permanently injuring myself.
I stepped outside and decided the cramped crowded streets of the lower east side would not produce a quick way home. I decided to walk two blocks up to the major street Houston because surely I can get a cab there. I had walked just one block (struggling the whole time trying to hold my umbrella up against the rain and put my jacket on…over my wings which I had forgotten where there) when I ran into Marshall! Yep, we both arrived at the street corner at the same time. Talk about fate part deux! He was taking his drummer (and NYC best friend) to Doc Holidays and invited me along. I think I jumped for joy because I love that bar but had to stay away since I lost it in the custody battle.
So Marshall, the drummer, and I walked the seven or so blocks to the east village dive bar. I think I tried to skip in heels and ended up face planting or something on the sidewalk (well I think that is how it happened since I had scratches on my arms). Marshall and I talked on the way and decided to be friends again. I’m all happy because I really wanted his friendship....and backstage access when his band makes it big….yes can you introduce me to Godsmack, thanks.
When we arrived at the bar, I had lost access to my wand. I guess I would talk with it and emphasize points by smacking the guys in the face. No worries because I was so happy to finally have smoothed out a very big aspect of my adult life. Well a few beers later, Marshall suddenly became moody and stormed out in typical Marshall fashion. The drummer came over with three beers and was like “did he leave, what should we do with his beer?” We ended shoving the unopened can of PBR into the drummer’s backpack that was full of pedals and other drum stuff. Yeah, the working minds of two drunks.
Well the drummer and I talked, and drank, and talked, and drank, and drank, and drank. I don’t know how things lead up to it (I stress the heavy amounts of drinking), but I eventually started to make out with the drummer. Yeah I know, pick up your jaw and get your tisking finger ready. Okay, I do that….you know, kiss boys when I am drunk. Do not be too quick to judge, we didn’t throw down right there in the middle of the bar. We first tried to go into the women’s restroom, but the bouncer yanked him out within seconds. We then moved to the dark hallway around the corner and in the back.
The drummer returned five minutes later (oh what do I know) all winded. He ran around all the blocks looking for Marshall while calling him relentlessly to ask forgiveness. Only when I saw how distraught the drummer was did I realize how stupid our actions were (followed by a ‘duh’ hand smack to my forehead). As Farrell called it, I was a total asshole. We quickly agreed not to continue anything (pity since he is funny, tall, cute, and totally my bad boy type) since it could only worsen the situation. I mean come on, I don’t want to be responsible for breaking up the band! I wonder, maybe a song will emerge from this….you know, one about an evil bitch whore…. something to tell the grandkids about.