Halloween is my favorite holiday. Every year, I go WAY OVERBOARD with the costume, especially considering that I don't really have anyplace to GO. Most of my friends don't live around here, and the ones that do are all homebodies. I went to a party thrown by my brother's friends, and I was there for approximately 3.5 hours.
I still went all-out. Wanna see my costume?
Here's what's under the white cloak. My bathroom photo studio is fancy, no?
I'm a ghost. Boo. You scared?
How about now? That's not Photoshop, those are creepy-ass white mesh lenses. They make the world sort of foggy and blurry, like you're already 5 beers into the evening. When I took them off halfway through the party, I immediately felt sober, just because everything was suddenly in focus.
I still have white makeup on my hands and on the front of my neck, I showered and scrubbed to no avail. I'm pretty sure I can recycle the wig and the lenses into a Storm costume another year. The cloak is homemade, and is made from white rayon that takes dyes like crazy, so I might try to do something else with it. I don't have much call for a white cloak and a white dress. Perhaps I'll get off the couch and do proper moon rituals one of these days, I imagine that would be good ritual wear...
I also decorate my house. I showed the indoor pics a while ago, but the outdoor ones are cute, too.
My front porch. The witch must have dissolved into liquidamber leaves and tingting grasses, leaving nothing but her shoes and a poor little frog.
The other side of my front porch. The Roommate and I keep adding little treasures to this vignette. It doesn't look the same day to day.
His Filthiness, Gypsy, likes Halloween, as it goes well with his fur. He was a little puzzled as to why he had to sit in the chair, though. He doesn't understand photoshoots.
Trixie LaRue is better at photoshoots. Here's her "Trixie or Treat" pose. The treat goes in her mouth. She's gone awfully grey in the snoot lately.
I will finish with a tale of woe and gore. Well, maybe not gore. Definitely discomfort, and some squidgey pics.
I threw a Ladies Night cocktail party for the people I work with. No boys allowed. This was mainly an excuse to clean the house and show off my decor. Roommate came home with lovely little Xmas lights to festoon the porch with. To keep the extension cord from becoming a trip hazard, I needed to hammer a nail into the overhang. So I needed a hammer. Which led me to my garage, which is piled high with old tools and whatnot. Heaven forbid I actually ORGANIZE the workbench. No, things just stack.
I reached in, pulled out the hammer... and also managed to knock a staple gun onto my foot. An old, heavy, bricklike staple gun. I said rude things, hissed, and went outside to nail up the extension cord.
Only then did I look down and notice that my foot was swelling. A lot.
I peeled off my stripey tights and saw this.
Holy crap. That's not good. Is this going to stop? Is it possible to die of internal bleeding... in the foot?
It eventually stopped getting bigger. The next day, I gingerly laced it into my Docs and went limping off to work. Bending my foot was a no-go, as it felt like squeezing a water balloon inside my flesh. I did not photograph this, but it was swollen all the way through to the sole of my foot. You could see the swelling from the bottom. It was quite grotesque.
Here's what it looked like after a day of being confined to a boot. I think it squeezed out some of the swelling.
Here's this morning. I decided that I was not going to let a purple foot interfere with my annual Halloween pedicure. I feel a little uncomfortable with the first two photos, as my toenails are unpainted and I feel really naked. Some people can't leave the house without makeup- I can't handle unpainted toes.
I am going to document this bruise, because I imagine it's going to go through some really interesting colors as it heals. Healing flesh amuses me. Next month, for the Professeur's "no makeup" homework assignment, I'm posting the healing pics from my plastic surgery. No makeup, and no dignity!
I'm sure my fascination with swelling says something about my psyche, but I don't care to think about it.
Happy Halloween! Pass out the good candy! Don't be THAT HOUSE.