2002-11-02 - 12:48 p.m.

That party kicked ass. Just enough people, not too many, and nobody terrifying showed up 'till the very end.

I left from work, accompanied by my dear friend R. (from college), and we went to her house first so she could put on her sexy cat costume while I gothed it up. That was fun--she applied my eyeliner for me as I winced and cried like a sissy.

I also learned that when a girl applies makeup to someone else, they make the same face they want you to be making. It's a universal law. I didn't know that.

My dear friend R. and I decided ahead of time that I would stay over at her place, which meant that I could linger at the party longer than an hour.

After a nice cab ride over, and some confusion with getting in, my dear friend R. and I settled nicely. C. (from work) was the Undead, although to me she kinda looked more like a Seattle grunge chick circa 1991. Molly, who shared co-hosting duties with the residents of the really frickin' cool apartment, well, I forget what she was dressed as, but she looked pretty frickin' cool too.

I've been to the place before--everyone there is always super nice and I always feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be when I'm there. I've never been to the basement, though, which is re-done, with a bar and a pool table (covered for the party, obviously), et al.

Getting down there, I realized that I had been to the basement before, with My S., over a year ago, to see a punk band. I think. Same looking basement, same neighborhood.

Weird.

Everyone was dressed up. Two British dudes were there--one was an MGH lobotomy patient, complete with removed brain in tupperware, and the other one was the shower scene from Psycho. I found them both quite charming.

Oh, and the cast of Spaceballs, and they really did it up. I mean really.

Quick side note--Spaceballs features one of the truest ever jokes--

Now you will see that Evil will always triumph, because Good is dumb.

I talked to a girl, who I thought was a 50's biker chick, but who was actually Tank Girl, and kinda spazzed out a little, but that's OK. Perhaps I sounded sweet even, or even endearing.

It's OK to spaz out every now and then, as long as you're not a spaz.

And I talked to another girl, cute as all hell, cute cute cute, dressed as a bear cub I think. Part of her costume was a melted chocolate bar in her left hand.

Oh, she was so cute, and we sat in the kitchen when everything was starting to wind down, when the sketch people started arriving, as well as a group of apparently pissed off hipsters that I dubbed the Strokes Mafia, and I flirted away unabashedly as two G's tried to get her attention as well.

She had eaten her prop melted candy bar, and I suggested she get another. She chose a Kit Kat, which are apparently extremely melty, and her left hand was a mess within minutes. I did eat from her hand, and I even gave her my number (I hope I remembered it right), and right before I left, I shook her chocolaty hand.

She told me that shaking her chocolate hand was the bravest thing anyone had done all night, and I left before I could ruin it all by saying something stupid.

My dear friend R. and I caught a cab back to her place, I got to drink one more beer before taking a siesta on her couch, and I woke up the next day to my dear friend R.'s nudging my shoulder.

She asked me if I wanted the alarm clock re-set, or if I wanted to wake up now.

Gimme a half hour,, I said, and, as she reset the clock, hearing what must have been the loudest alarm ever inadvertently go off, I said I slept through THAT?.

Took a shower, left on time, train wasn't running, walked 15 blocks and took a cab. Just on time for work, changed into the sweater I had hid under my desk just in case I didn't make it home, got some coffee, and got to work.

I still can't get the eyeliner off, though.