Hello world. As you read this, I have just returned from having a pint of blood sucked out of me by a flotilla of doctors, nurses and other medical professionals. Why? Because it’s my SIX-MONTH CANCERVERSARY! Holy cervical scrapes, Batman! Has it really been that long?
This is my six-month out checkup, and I’m sure I’ll get the all clear again. As of right now I’m dizzy and lightheaded and crampy and ready to take a nap. Also, who’s the girl who gets blood drawn from her right arm when she’s right handed? And who then gets a flu shot on the same side? And who now can’t feel her arm at all? Thaaaat’s right.
But this isn’t a post about medical fuckery; no sir. This is a post about my favourite holiday–HALLOWEEN. I’ll take any excuse to dress up and beg for candy, but Halloween has always been special. And as far as a good time goes, this year is officially the year to beat.
To start off with, I did something that I’ve never done before but always secretly really, really wanted to. I took my favourite knife, got in the car and went looking for my perfect target. One I could see on my table. Tonight’s the night.
. . .
Yes sir, I carved my first-ever pumpkin. It was awesome.
And a little gross.
Growing up in Australia, Halloween wasn’t such a big deal. And pumpkins are not the same as they are in America–they’re purple, for one thing, and I don’t remember them being really abundant in October. Also, can we talk about how I wasn’t exactly the kid you’d trust with a knife? Once I cut my thumb to the bone on a bag of corn chips THAT I WAS WALKING PAST. So even with an American mum I’d never carved a pumpkin until I was 26. I’m very proud of my smiley vampire, and even more so that I didn’t lose any blood.
Halloween night itself was amazing. To start off with, I had an awesome costume.
Don’t recognise me? Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. How about a full-length picture?
Can I get a la LA LA LA…
That’s right, Daria Morgandorffer in the HOWWWWSE. Not only did I get to be the best character ever on MTV, my costume was weather-appropriate and best of all felt like pyjamas. After last year’s bandaged, itching, chest-binding discomfort extravaganza, that was a major criteria right there. The only bad things about it was that the glasses kind of didn’t fit my head, and that I had to use foundation, concealer, powder AND beige lipstick to get that “lips the same colour as face” look. Stressful…? Okay, not really.
Braving the sea of Snookis with me was my very own Jane Lane, Charlotte. Or do I mean SEXY BEETLEJUICE? One, two, three, costume!
Her hair was a thing of beauty. I was in awe of her teased blonde corona all night because that shit was PERFECT. Like a halo made of cotton candy and hairspray. Totally amazing.
First stop, Debonair for the club’s fourth birthday party. It may not sound like much but that’s like eighty nine in Wicker Park years. Them Crooked Vulvas played a really fun set; it was truly a great way to spend an hour with five hundred of our closest friends.
And there were some awesome costumes.
At 2am we tried to go to Flatiron, but we couldn’t stomach the Phil Collins Greatest Hits. There’s a limit to what I’ll endure for cheap booze and skanky hipsters, and five minutes of “One more night” is it. Wondertwins, to Exit!
A blonde, a brunette and a redhead walk into a bar. Wait a second, a redhead?
Introducing Lorelei, aka: sexy Chucky. She’s an incredible make-up artist and her scars and stitches were truly a sight to behold.
Plus she’s a grade-A photobomber which you know I appreciate. Together, the three of us are the witches of Eastwick. Mostly I like that analogy because I get to be Cher, and you know how I feel about Cher.
By the pricking of our thumbs, something wicked this way comes. It was called a round of cherrybombs, which were kind of gross. But they did their job & the night quickly descended into madness.
Just two friends sharing a gummi skeleton, Lady and the Tramp style. Nothing weird about that. Which is the lady and which is the tramp is open for debate, I’ll leave you to figure out.
I was doing my best to be very stoic all night since a serious face is pretty much part of the costume, but I gotta say, it was pretty hard. Especially when your friends announce that they’re going to date Edward Scissorhands and Frank N Furter, and then you start telling everyone that your future boyfriend is SAAAATAN. Then you crack yourself up.
Lorelei looked at this photo and exclaimed “YOUR HAIR LOOKS LIKE A BEAUTIFUL FLOWING WATERFALL!” I laughed at the time but you know what, she’s not wrong.
At this point it’s 3:30 and we’re drunk and hungry, so it’s into another cab and back to Wicker Park. On the way, we discussed men with the driver & got into a heated exchange about dudes with ponytails and their relative preferred sexual predilections. Wait, did somebody say after-afterhours party? DID SOMEBODY SAY TAQUITOS?
No matter. PARTY AT GREG’S HOUSE!
And so we raged. And by “raged” I clearly mean “hid in the other room away from the rest of the party so that we could drink our booze in peace and not have to talk to anyone except each other.”
One, two, three, say it with me: NICE RACK. Lorelei the pool shark was cleaning up & I was threatening the lives of two creeps who were watching their game when Greg (also occasionally known as “Greggo the eggo” because it rhymes) came in and ended our sexy pool party. Grumble.
Char had been especially hilarious all night & called him out for bossing us around. I had to be sure that I was quoting her properly, accuracy being ever my watchword as a serious journalist, so I texted her: “What were you calling Greg last night? Papa something?” “Gestapo Dad!” she answered, and I laughed all over again.
Our giant blue cups were originally full of plain orange juice, but we got bored of that and so Greg spiked our drinks. Thanks, Gestapo Dad!
Remember when I said that Charlotte was being extra hilarious? By about 5am, it had spread. Submitted for your approval: Lorelei telling Char “I’m going to scissor your neck, but not in a lesbian way, because you don’t have a vagina on your neck,” and Char getting rid of some annoying dudes by yelling “EAT A BUG!” Then she looked at me and explained “Get it? Because I’m dressed like Beetlejuice!” This is why I love her.
Lorelei eats the cotton candy hair. Tastes like hairspray and awesomeness.
The clock struck six and I decided to disappear. Literally, in this picture. Except there was one problem: It was really, really cold outside…
…and, as I mentioned on Twitter, there was not one damn cab in Wicker Park. Clearly it’s our fault for keeping such respectable hours.
Of course, we eventually made it home to take off our makeup, untease our hair and pass out with a hot cup of tea. The tea keeps us classy.
And that’s the story of The Best Halloween Ever. My only regret is that I didn’t eat more candy, but I suppose I do that every day. I hope you guys had an awesome night & placated some fearsome demons to ensure a good harvest. Or, you know, got drunk and wore a mask. Both are good options.