When I was a kid, I had friends who would ration out their Hallowe’en haul of candy and peck away at it until Christmas. I was not one of those kids. My sister and I would plan a walking route to maximize our gains, including a swing by our house to drop off too-heavy bags. When we got home, we would obssessive-compulsively re-organize our loot into separate paper bags with labels like “Chocolate,” “Chips,” and even “Rockets.” We had to tip out to Mom, no question, but she let us have free rein over our goodies. One Hallowe’en night I ate so much I puked. In fact, I pretty much ate it all. Did I learn my lesson? Yup. Did I ever do it again? Nope. Did I enjoy it while I was gorging? You bet your pillowcase full of miniature treats I did.
This is an example of how I like my Hallowe’en – extreme. I think that the residual thrill of being out late in the crisp chill of a fall night, plus the fact that my mom is a costume designer, so I never wanted for something totally awesome to wear, has permanently imprinted All Hallow’s Eve as my favourite.
I believe you can’t have too much fun -- though you may spend Sunday paying for it -- so when I happily RSVP’d to two Hallowe’en parties, I was obviously thrilled. Two parties meant two sets of costumes! Two alter-egos! Two crazy adventures!
And here’s how it all broke down, as far as I can remember:
Friday Night: Patrick and Toni’s Superclub Partyroom:
J and I are Neo and Trinity from the Matrix. Our costumes rock, if I do say so myself, even if carrying around two guns apiece is a bit of a pain. Good times included a surreal stumble through an underground parking lot (“I carried the chips and dips!”) on the way to part two of the party; everyone staring at my little sister’s tits; and my ‘famous’ rice krispie squares.
Saturday Night: Jessica’s 30th Birthday/Hallowe’en Extravaganza:
J and I are hero and heroine from the cover of a romance novel. Unabashedly sexy, we get to stare off into the future regularly, and I get to swoon a lot. This comes in handy later in the night, when too much punch means I’m sort of wobbly and unfocused anyway. Good times include a photo shoot including a fan – thanks, Jenn, for making that happen! (hey, if anyone has any of those pictures, could you send them to me?); Jessica eating the still-beating heart out of the ripped-open-torso cake I made for her; and getting shut down by the police – twice! Apparently I tried to charm Toronto’s finest and even invited them to come to the party. Yeah, I’m blushing. I’m sorry, officers. I didn’t mean to make a fool of myself.
As a special birthday present to Jessica, I graciously took her hangover on Sunday, thus having two. Wicked.
My stunning sister as Tomb Raider.
Jessica the Burlesque Dancer (what else?) eats a still-beating heart. It contains wheat.
(MORE PICS TO COME – EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES)
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