Saturday night, Harry and I threw a Halloween party for a few of our closest buds(pictures above by Chris! Thanks!). About an hour before everyone was set to arrive, I sat down in front off the mirror and began to transform myself from "chubby-cheeked girl next door" to "Holly, the Black Widow Sorceress." First, I curled my hair - for oomph. Then, I mixed my normal foundation with a bit of white cake make-up which instantly turned my nose into the Sahara. Ew. I caked on some goldy-orange eyeshadow, black think eyeliner and an oddly alluring red and black mixture for my lips (which wouldn't stay put and kept ending up on my cheek). After taking down my rollers I then started applying these HUGE false eyelashes that I had purchased at HOT TOPIC. I thought they would be fun.
I thought wrong.
Twenty minutes later, I was wrestling the second one on to my lid, trying not to muss my eyemakeup while applying what looked like a mutated catepillar to my eye. I finally got it on. But then came the big problem. They weren't even. My left lash line started about half way across my lid, while the right one was snug in the corner. I had to remove one. Pulling on my temple, I grasped the wooly-wormish eye-piece and pulled. Nothing.
I pulled a bit harder.
At this point my eyeball is starting to feel a bit floaty, like, at any moment it's going to fall out and end up in my lap. Which grossed me out and made me flinch - and ripped the damn lash off. Now most people, at this rather painful point would have given up, laquered on another coat of mascara on their god-given lashes, but, no, not me!
I trooped on.
In the end, I had perfectly scary, drag-queen-esque lashes, a long black dress, matching spider web jewelry and - a lopsided updo.
"Oh well," I thought, lobbing bobby pins at my reflection, "can't win 'em all."
I left it down and stuck a big' ol skunk-like black streakin it. Messy fun.
The party was fun, we had a guard and her prisoner there, a witchy fairy, Druscilla and Spike ( didn't they break up? Where was the slime demon?), Britney Spears (pig-tail era) and her beau Scotty (of Eurortip fame - complete with speakers playing "Scotty Doesn't Know"), a damsel and her man, and a few others.
Prior to the guests arriving we locked Phoebe up in our bedroom just in case she would decide to make a break for it and try to escape. Lo and behold, about an hour in to the party, here she comes traipsing down the stairs looking like she owned the place and arriving fashionablly late. I still don't know how she reached the doorknob...
We set up a fog machine in front of the fireplace - it was really cool. When the light turned green, you could push a button and a little puff of fog would come out and coat the ground.
Or so I thought.
I happily pushed the button and WHOOSH! all this smoke came pouring out! I tried to fan it away from where the biggest gaggle of guests were standing using the bat wing sleeves of my dress for propulsion, but it was really no use. I just ended up looking like a deranged over-sized Batman toy.
Everyone laughed and pointed. A well-deserved taunt, I guess.
The next day I woke up with a headache and an upset tummy.
I really think it's possible to O.D. on artichoke dip, lemon bars and ghetto grape pop.
Happy Halloween ya'all!