Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

To commemorate my favorite non-religious/non-family/non-nationalistic flag-waving holiday, I'm raising this blog from the dead and taking a trip back in time to share some of my favorite Halloween costumes in years past.

Let's start with this year. This year, I was Lemmy. And I was awesome at it. See here:

Actual conversation overheard at the table next to us at Church Key (a totally awesome beer bar that is unfortunately overrun with semi-douchey hipsters who just might have gotten eaten alive at the corner of 14th and Rhode Island Ave less than ten years earlier):

Girl: "Sorry, I can't even concentrate enough to speak because of that guy's warts. That's disgusting."
Guy: "That's Lemmy"
Girl: "Who?"
Guy: "Lemmy from Motorhead"
Girl: "What? "
Guy: "He's a legend"
Girl: "Who is he?"
Guy: "He's in the band Motorhead"
Girl: "Who are they?"
Guy: *sigh* "They're like Brad Paisley, ok?"

This would not be my first rock star homage. In fact, the year I went to New Orleans for Halloween, I went as Alice Cooper.

I was mistaken for the fucking Crow all night long. Oh, well.

The photo above was taken at 6:00 AM after being out all night at the Howlin Wolf and Snake & Jake's. If I look a little dead, its because I am.

In fact, I *felt* a little more like the photo below:



Of course, I didn't always pick a specific rock star. In fact, this one year I totally phoned it in with this generic piece of crap "rocker" outfit that's about as authentic as Mark Whalberg starring an unwatchably terrible Ripper Owens biopic.

Here I am posing with a coworker.

Once again, proof that the Amish simply work harder than the rest of us...

Ooh, speaking of Mark Whalberg, one year I was totally obsessed with Boogie Nights, and I wanted to do some kind of send-up to 70's fashion. Check THIS out:

What I was going for: Disco king/70's porn star.
What I ended up with: Your dad.

Then maybe a year later I saw Basquiat, and became obsessed with Andy Warhol. So.....

Notice my exceptional attention to detail. Because this is pretty much 70 percent made from the shitty "rocker" costume from a few years earlier.
Also, because as we all know, Warhol never went anywhere without 40 oz'er of King Cobra in a brown paper bag.

Then, one year, just like every other five year old in the Maryland suburbs, I went as a cowboy.

What my coworker was going for: Beats me....
What I was going for: bad guy cowboy/man in black.
What I ended up with: If Joe Buck and Woody from Toy Story had BOTH been male prostitutes.

Speaking of prostitutes, I can't quite tell you what was going through my head this one year.

I can, however, tell you that our HR department was probably borderline incompetent to allow me to get away with this.