the answer: salvador dali parton. of course!, you're thinking.
as mentioned, nakedjew and i spent all day saturday running around like chickens with our heads cut off. we finally acquired:
-1 size 40D bra
-bright pink blush
-1 plastic lobster
-2 fake moustaches
-1 watercolor set with wooden paintbrushes
-more wooden paintbrushes
-1 plastic broetchen
-two deery lou items (impulse buys, nothing to do with halloween)
dave was kind enough to loan me a suit which ended up making me look like harpo marx or the world's littlest hobo, so i opted for my own clothing. and due to a lack of better wigging, i borrowed NJ's from last year. since last halloween was a rough event, the wig had obviously seen better days and left me no choice but to harness it with a kerchief.
so there i was with a wig on my head, gaudy make up on my face, a mole above my lip, and accoutrement in my pockets. then it was time to affix the crowning touch: the trademark dalinian moustache. i pulled out the first and realized it required glue (which i did not have). good thing for back ups.
i pulled out the second which was clearly marked as "self-adhering" and peeled off the backing to reveal a complete lack of adhesive. after further investigation, i realized the thin, sticky strip had peeled off with the paper. i coaxed it off, stuck it above my lip, and pressed on the ratty shank of hair. it worked like a charm! unfortunately, it was a charm for the non-superstitious because it popped off my face pretty quickly and no amount of pressing it on and maintaining facial immobility would help. oh well. there would surely be face glue at the party (there wasn't). i obviously didn't have the presence of mind at this point to use elmer's or just draw the damned thing on with eyeliner. i was pretty tired.
by now, NJ had donned his gigantic afro wig and given up making a palette out of cardboard, so he grabbed my hot pink plastic palette from the dollar store and re-christened himself Gay Bob Ross. we tumbled through some rain and into the focus to hit the highway for waxahachie, tx. the a/c was blowing because, frankly, my chest was on fire. those seven pairs of socks stuffed inside the 40D and then secured with one of my own 34B's were like fiery little charcoal briquettes burning away on my chest.
we drove through pounding rain and finally arrived at the gallery where the shindig was being held. we quickly located bob ross II (dave) and his dead bunny (amy). at this point, i really don't think words can suffice so...
after viewing some of the artifacts at the party location, i assessed that this was the couple who had loaned out some of the bizarre folk art pieces for an exhibit at the MAC. it's possible i mentioned one of the pieces in a previous journal entry, because it was a wooden head with a long beard which appeared to be made out of pubic hair (see far right):
the bathroom mirror frame was made of folded up cigarette cartons. as seen from the toilet:
i was impressed that the baby dressed as an elephant and lying in this stroller remained comatose for the duration. i was more impressed that whomever this child belonged to had used the stroller to hold their shiner:
at some point very early on, things went horribly wrong and my integrity was comprised by not just one, but two bob rosses:
they then proceeded to take turns compromising one another's integrity:
even though amy seemed dismayed by it, this is one of my favorite photos of the evening. behind them is a trailer that was parked out front with a redneck prophet dispensing forecasts inside:
headgear swapping begins:
and they can even dance. like five year olds:
if you're really bored, here are the few others from the weekend which aren't already displayed above. and these are only the ones from my camera. who knows if the link will really work. i don't.