I'm happy to report that this year I celebrated all-hallows-eve in style.
|look at that mud!|
|that middle pumpkin is a pirate. arrrrrrrgh says the middle pumpkin.|
Then, for the actual Halloween festivity (ridiculous house party anyone?), I just couldn't get into the spirit costume-wise. I mean, I sewed a skirt for my friend's Daphne costume (think Scooby Doo) but just didn't want to spend time that I could be knitting or stitching or baking (or sleeping) making a costume that I would only wear...for about 3 hours.
Three days before the big party, I had an idea: wouldn't it be funny (in an ironic kind of way) to be old-school ghosts?
Full disclosure: this was after a couple of beers and a long day. But that night it sounded like the best idea ever.
In the morning it seemed a bit less funny, but not so bad as to not carry out the idea.
We put them on our heads, marked eye holes, cut eye holes and...done. Costumed.
(We then practiced being spooky.) (And we took two grainy and dark pictures...that are nevertheless awesome because you can't see our legs and we thusly look like...ghosts!)
|horrible lighting makes it look like my sheet was dipped dyed. I assure you that it was not.|
- It's hot in there. Really hot.
- It's hard to see where you're going. And if you're at a house party with narrow stairs and too many people, that makes things tricky.
- That stupid sheet doesn't stay where you want it to. It slips around and you end up walking on your sheet and constantly trying to find the sweet spot where those holes are lined up with your eyes.
- Already-drunk people will holler out: the Klansmen are here! when you walk in the room. It won't make you feel good, and you'll spend the evening explaining that you're GHOSTS. You'll even wave your sheet-covered ghosty hands and moan out your best boooooos.
- It's hard to drink your beer with a sheet on and no mouth hole. I tried drinking through my eye-hole (yes, I did) and by holding my requisite red cup underneath the sheet. Mostly, I just spilled beer on myself and thusly ended my beer-drinking. It was Jell-O shots for the rest of the evening. (Or, to be more specific: one Jell-O shot, two bites of molded Jell-O brain.)