Amy has gone away several times since we got her all setup here at BadGroove.com. Each time, she invites me to guest post and each time I say that I will, only to flake out and not actually post anything. Well, as you can see, I’m actually posting something this time. I hope that this, in some small way, begins to make up for my flaking out the other times.

So this year, Halloween — being the ungrateful B*tch that it is — falls on a Sunday. A SUNDAY! What good can come from Halloween on a Sunday? None. Except that it does give us a convenient excuse to have a Halloween Party on a more convenient day, at our leisure. Such was the case last night. This is the story of my costume for that party, which is not even close to being as cool as the Halloween costumes that my mom made me when I was little. Nevertheless, it was a costume.

When I first heard about the party, I was told that there was going to be a costume theme. You could be whatever you wanted, as long as it was “a little slutty.” I was weary of that request until I was informed that there was going to be a low male-to-female ratio… at which point I figured it was a small price to pay.

Fast-forward to yesterday evening… five or six hours before the party. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to where, let alone where I was going to get it, and the Hostess calls. She asks what I’m coming as… and I tell her that I hadn’t decided yet. This is concerning to her, as she claims it’s going to take her the next five hours to get into her costume. “How could it take five hours to put on a slutty costume?” I think to myself. She explains that she’s going as an astronaut.

And how, pray tell, can an astronaut be slutty? That’s right, class, astronauts cannot be slutty. A quick google image search turns up nothing, and if that doesn’t prove it, I don’t know what does.

A little while later, as I drove to walmart for inspiration, I was concerned about two things: 1) Was this really going to be a slutty costume party? (Aside: is amy going to kill me for using that word so many times?) and 2) Was it really going to be a costume party. The Hostess had claimed that she’d turn people away if they weren’t in character, but I had my doubts. Having been to a few failed parties in my time, I did not want to be the only one in an involved costume… especially not if it was involved and slutty.

To make my long stay at walmart a short story, let’s just say that after failing to find anything worth while, I bought a white t-shirt, some red washable paint, a roll of translucent duct tape, a piece of styrofoam, and a couple of arrows. I was going to go to the party as a hunting accident.

The plan was to cut the arrow in thirds… the first and the last third were to be sticking out of opposite ends of me, the middle third was to be thrown away. When I left walmart, I had only two and a half hours to get ready and go to the party. This included fastening the arrows to myself, and letting the paint (blood) dry on the shirt.

So, I stopped and got McDonalds on the way back.

After dinner I poked holes in the front and back of the shirt, and painted it. Luckily it dried pretty quickly with the help of a hair-dryer. The next thing I had to do was get the arrow cut. Lacking the proper tools to do such a thing, I decided to use an old knife, which I would just discard when I was finished.

For those of you who don’t know, or would likely forget if you were rushed, please make a note of the following somewhere prominent in your household:

Arrows are made of fiberglass. Fiberglass is… made from little tiny “fibers” of glass (go figure). As one might expect, those little fibers are all too willing to insert themselves into your body a la splinters, and be marginally to extremely painful for an unknown period of time. Very much not a la splinters, there’s no way in hell you’re going to get them out any faster than they want to come out.

If I were less brilliant that I am and had forgotten that above warning, I may have accidentally gotten some little glass fibers stuck in my thumb (which still elicit a dull ache today) BEFORE I went and got gloves. Of course, I’m far too smart for that… I’m merely pointing it out for your protection.

Once the arrow was cut, it was high time to get them fastened me. This was when I began to think… “Hmmm… this would probably be easier if I had someone to help me.” Alas, no such sucker was to be found.

I cut the styrofoam into a few small pieces, draped the shirt over a chair, and… guessed at what angles the arrows should be placed relative to my chest and back. Sure, it would’ve been easy to have the holes at the same place on both sides and just make the arrow straight… but really! Who gets shot at an angle like that!? Nobody. I’ve watched Braveheart enough times to know that. Lazy shortcuts like that do not an above-average mediocre Halloween costume make!

Once the angles were decided upon I went ahead and duct taped the front arrow to my chest. I would regret this later.

It was at that point I made a startling realization (startling if only because it took me this long to make it). How in Bob’s name was I supposed to tape something to MY OWN BACK?

Oh, I tried a LOT of ways… I bent in directions I didn’t think possible (but hopefully the slutty ladies at the party would be impressed), I used every thing I could think of to reach where this piece of styrofoam was supposed to go. Oh, did I mention that it needed to go the place on my back right between my shoulder blades? You know, the ONE spot that nobody can really reach with any kind of effectiveness? Yeah. I’m that effing smart. Aren’t you jealous?

Well, after much trial, tribulation, and contortion… I sat down to my computer… half of an arrow sticking out of my chest… to find one of two things… either a person local here in Tuscaloosa, or a brilliant friend who could help me tape something to my own back.

I found none of the former, but one of the latter. Nicole tossed out a lot of ideas… including one that reminded me of a bear in the woods. “Why not attach it to the wall and then rub up against it?” She suggested.

Absolutely brilliant.

Well, it would need some work… but the concept was good. I attached a long piece of tape — sticky-side out — to the wall, placed the styrofoam in the center of it and backed up to the wall. Reaching on each side of me, I pulled the tape around me and *poof* — the styrofoam anchor was attached to my back. Awesome.

Well, not awesome. The first time I used a piece of tape a bit too long, and I had to take it off and start over again. Unfortunately for me, the ends of both sides had found themselves attached to some of my precious under-arm hair. That was not pleasant. I’m quite glad that armpits don’t have mouths, too… because their breath would really reek. Oh, and they probably would’ve screamed bloody murder when I removed the tape.

Success! Amazing! I had taped something to my own back! How awesome was I? Pretty awesome… until I realized that I had one feat yet to accomplish: I had to get the arrow stuck into the styrofoam. Uh oh.

The hole was already there, I just had to push it in. Contortionist Pete went back to work, stretching, bending, and feeling the burn… but to no avail. I decided to go to the party as-is and let someone else put the arrow in my back and tape it up.

You know what? I was damn impressed with how well the arrow lined up having done 90% of it by myself. It looked GOOD.

Everyone at the party was in costume, it was fun, and by the time I ripped the duct tape off of myself I had partaken of enough adult beverages that it didn’t hurt [enough to make me cry].

But I’ll be damned if I don’t still have adhesive all over me.

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 30th, 2004 at 9:54 am and is filed under Guest Entries. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.