I thought of this somewhere in the vicinity of toweling off my crotch after a shower an hour or so ago. I'm not a huge fan of Halloween, and have never liked the pressure to spend money dressing up only to be disappointed by yet another shitty Halloween party where I find I'm the lower income harry potter among the four others.
So, as I wiped the moisture from my undercarriage, bitching to myself about how uncomfortable I'd wind up being in anything I threw together within a couple quick minutes, it hit me. PJs. Fucking PJs. What could be better? Its about as low rent as they come, would cost me nothing, and at the end of the night, all I'd had to to do would be lay down and drift into a soft soothing sleep, leaving Halloween and my participation in it, behind.
But overkill is a theme with me, and the notion of just coming in my pajamas soon wasn't enough. I needed something more, something to push this little idea over the edge. In a couple inspiration filled swipes of my towel I'd gone from not giving a shit about wearing anything to keeping up with the Halloween Jonses, and before I could rule anything smarter out I soon found myself in the makeup aisle in Walgreens looking for anything to spice up my little ensemble.
This bulky green tube quickly caught my eye. "Walgreens Brand Mint Julep Facial Mask", which , I ridiculed in my head before seeing that it was only three bucks, and for that price, would put most any southern jubilee on my mug. Giving myself a kick in the reasoning part of my ass, this certainly seemed green enough to get a laugh with my bathrobe, and buying this three dollar tube would put my total Halloween budget somewhere around, three dollars, so making what should have been my inaugural foray into women's cosmetics, I bought it.
Patting myself on the back of my brain, I sat in my car seconds later smearing this thick green creme on my face. It was very tingly on my skin and while making me slightly uncomfortable, I had no trouble spotting the mint part. I checked myself in the mirror, laughing to myself about what a good idea this was. People would think this was so funny, I thought, itching my cheek. I'd inspire thousands of others to the type of greatness I was concocting with a simple drying of my balls. While I didn't quite know what "I was", that didn't really matter as long as I was being my usual hilarious self, which obviously, I was.
But I soon found my ambitions had outstripped the workability of my plan. Walking up to the comedy club I was about to perform at I was greeted by smiles that didn't last long enough to convince me that there wasn't confusion just behind them. "Haha!" they'd say, "...what are you?" "Well I'm ah, me." "You wear a green facial mask?" "No, I'm wearing my pajamas." "Then why are you wearing, wait, I get it, you're a girl!".
This was quickly getting away from me.
Sal, the clubs DJ walked out and said hello to me. He was also wearing a bathrobe and slippers and looked eminently more comfortable than I, "Whassup man, nice costume man, lemme guess, you're a girl." This, coming from someone dressed almost exactly the same as I sans three dollar mint julep facial mask hurt a little bit, but I shrugged it off telling myself that they just didn't get the layers upon layers I was bringing with this getup.
But perhaps I had overdone the layers - the mask was cracking and brittle - I had applied three or four times the recommended amount of mint julep facial mask in an attempt to really hit the joke home, and it was quickly becoming apparent that the only real joke here was me. My skin looked like the surface of Mars, except green. Pieces were crumbling off like the deterioration of the dying emperor in the beginning of "The Dark Crystal" and given that no one was getting the joke I wasn't quite delivering I went into the bathroom of the comedy club and scrubbed the crust off my face.
But my skin did look wonderful.
Walking around later that evening amidst the clowns and emperors of Halloween night a I stopped in front of a car of drunken Latinos. Looking at my bathrobe and slippers one of them hanging out the window said "Hey bro, what're you supposed to be?"
I paused, considered my answer, and said "comfortable".
"Ahahah, he said, cool."
Which is the way it should have been from the get go.
But perhaps I had overdone the layers - the mask was cracking and brittle - I had applied three or four times the recommended amount of mint julep facial mask in an attempt to really hit the joke home, and it was quickly becoming apparent that the only real joke here was me. My skin looked like the surface of Mars, except green. Pieces were crumbling off like the deterioration of the dying emperor in the beginning of "The Dark Crystal" and given that no one was getting the joke I wasn't quite delivering I went into the bathroom of the comedy club and scrubbed the crust off my face.
But my skin did look wonderful.
Walking around later that evening amidst the clowns and emperors of Halloween night a I stopped in front of a car of drunken Latinos. Looking at my bathrobe and slippers one of them hanging out the window said "Hey bro, what're you supposed to be?"
I paused, considered my answer, and said "comfortable".
"Ahahah, he said, cool."
Which is the way it should have been from the get go.
