Anyway, I was a garden gnome for Halloween. Is it wrong that I was able to make 3 different outfits for this costume from my daily wardrobe?
On Friday, my best girl and I went to an amazing dub and electro show at the fanciest club down town. We had to kill an hour and a bit before the doors opened so we meandered the streets in our precious gnome attire. Bumpin' beats were sailing out into the night, carried perfectly by the crisp night air. Obviously we went to check it out.
Near one of many public transportation terminals, there is an outdoor glass dome structure. People were clustered in the dome around a DJ and there was a full on dance party. 7/11 cups full of dranks were in the hands of every person. The only unpleasant part of the flash party was a horrible drunk ho-cop wearing tight light jeans and a corset. As a result of her inebriated dancing, her boobs kept escaping from her far too small and ineffective corset. I'm harsh and exceedingly self conscious, but if you are chubby and have a huge rack...COVER THAT SHIT UP. Never have I felt more heterosexual. Multiple nip slips are the worst kinds of nip slips.
This was the first time I have been really scared on Halloween in many years.
After we got into our venue, we got our drank on and hit the floor. I really love dancing. People may not realize how much I love it. It is kind of unexpected, but years of watching Pussycat Dolls music videos and various How To videos on YouTube have built a pretty good repertoire of actual dance moves. I had a shuffling dance battle with Jesus, and won. No big deal.
It hasn't taken me long to realize that I am not going to meet my husband in the club. Ironically enough, I often get hit on more by girls with boyfriends than by men.
.................uuhhhhh thanks? Now why would she say a thing like that? This girl was falling down drunk so I let it slide.
A brief aside, I have decided to take a vow of self improvement and humanitarian efforts for the next few months. Nuts to dating...not that I've experienced anything even remotely close lately, but if I state it here I may adhere to my convictions better. I want to volunteer with Project Linus, a charity where people knit or sew blankets for children in crisis. I can knit in my own time and drop it off at their Vancouver headquarters. I need to start volunteering and networking in the local mental health scene before I get too close to applying for grad school and what not.
Back to drunken debauchery, Saturday was wild. I would even say buckwild. I went to a frat party with some of my best pals and it was totally the world's longest music video. Sadly, I did not get to do a keg stand though. Champagne shower, yes (THE SHAKE THE BOTTLE AND SPRAY IT, THROW IT IN THE AIR AND TIP IT BACK KIND, NOT THE MALE BODILY FLUIDS KIND)! That was rather rad, not something you experience every day.
There were a lot of hilarious costumes at the frat party, but one man was a mystery. We called him Paul Rudd. When recalling if he was, in fact trying to be Paul Rudd or if Reilly named him that, we had no clue. He was the shyest boy I have ever met. He had a boisterous wing man, but Paul Rudd said not one word, just handed me the champagne. I recognised him from school because he has a distinctive tattoo on his forearm of a scroll with words on it.
I had to work the next morning. Oh child, that was a gamble. I woke up feeling like death but by the time 11AM rolled around, my hangover had subsided. My manager told me to wear my costume to work, because of courrrrseeee other people will dress up. Once again I donned my mustard yellow tights, a cute floral blouse, high waisted skirt and felted gnome hat, regardless of how covered in mud all my clothes were from the rager the night before. Of course no other associates were dressed up, but so many customers told me how precious I am so it wasn't all bad.