On Friday, Justin and J had a party for a few purposes:
1. It was Devil’s Night and thus basically a pre-funk Halloween 2. They wanted to keep their house from being arsoned 3. They wanted to get their rat bastard arsonist friends off the street 4. Oh yeah, and Justin was turning 30 or something
Since it was a Devil’s Night party, it was requested that we dress up as the devil or one of his minions; my Halloween costume not yet complete, I didn’t have time to put together anything else, so I slapped on some clay horns, red eyeshadow, and the reddest, glitteriest lips EVER and called it a costume. The glitterlips were a mistake; no matter how cool I thought it looked at home, I was nervous all night about it getting onto my teeth as I talked and drank so I spent about a third of the night obsessively licking my teeth which I’m sure looks about as attractive as it sounds. I was apparently not so concerned about the look AFTERWARD as when I got home, I passed out on the couch within ten minutes of my arrival in full makeup and woke up with so much glitter in my mouth that it appeared overnight I had changed into a hobo costume with a bad case of red glitter gingivitis. When it comes to glitter, I’m bad at learning my lesson.
Justin had dressed up as the Morning Star; we contemplated adding a flaming sword of vengeance to his costume but figured that since part of the point of the party was NOT to burn down the house, playing with fire and booze would probably not be one of the wiser courses of action.
Speaking of wiser courses of action and booze, one of the party guests had pretty well overimbibed by the time I arrived and kept drinking; I was chatting with someone else and we both looked up right at the precise moment that it was deemed prudent that we drag Drunky McDrunkerson outside IMMEDIATELY, who rewarded us by hurling in the bushes bare seconds after we got him on the porch. This guy was in a whole new league of drunk–he sat outside on the porch for nearly the rest of the evening, alternating drinking water and vomiting. At one point, we called a cab for him and the cab driver refused to take him since he couldn’t walk unassisted. At some other point, he crapped his pants but was still too drunk to notice.
…I think I’m getting too old for this sort of party.
J had some super-awesome horns and wore furry pants which gave her the illusion of goat legs, and Deq turned her star tattoos into pentagrams and the whole thing was quite impressive and made me feel a bit ashamed of my hobomouth and horns combo.
All in all, it was a good time hanging with some folks I hadn’t seen in a while, Justin successfully turned 30 AND managed to avoid burning down the house, so it was a win on all counts.
Particularly since I didn’t have to be involved in the clean-up process, which I hear involved rubber gloves.
