Boo!

Today has had an auspicious start. Woke up just before noon when Jarod's parents arrived at his spot (I crashed at Jamie and Jarod's; more on that later). Flipped on the TV and what is just about to begin? Why it's Commando! Yet another movie I have not seen before. While not as essential as either of the Terminator films, Jamie still insisted that I watch it, and I'm glad I did. For the next hour and forty-five (or however long that movie is) I was treated to one of the most appallingly bad movies I've ever seen. Of course, that made it one of the most hilarious films as well. "Let off some steam, Bennett." Total classic.

Came home, got my shower on, got my BK on, talked to moms, and now I'm killing time playing the new Smackdown video game (a review may be in the works) until I have to go back out to meet with the boys (Jamie and Jarod, at least) to see another movie I never saw when it came out, Alien. We're going to the Uptown to see it on the giant screen. (It just occurs to me that I should be linking some of these things I mention, but, you know, I can't do everything for you. Lazy bastards.)

Now, the reason I crashed with Jamie and Jarod last night is because we went to a party. The place: my friend Jodi's spot out in Arlington, a nice place she shares with two other ladies. It was, naturally, a costume party, and I did dress up. After kicking around a few ideas the last few months (Meatwad, a pirate priest), I wound up going as Jesus Christ Superfly, which is basically just a Jesus outfit with an afro. I had a goatee working as well, but it fell apart early on and I stopped wearing it. Just as well, as I couldn't really talk or drink with it on. The downside to that is that afterwards, I had a lot of people calling me Jack Osbourne. Now there's a kick in the crotch. At least this time I had a costume on. The previous two times I was just in me everyday streetwear. That's when it really hurts. The crew went as dead George Plimpton (Carl), dead Joan Crawford (Caren), a priest (Jamie), and a hippie/lumberjack/gas station attendant (Jarod). Quite an alliterative group I hang out with, eh?

The party was a lot of fun. A good number of people, a good ratio of women to men, and free hooch. What more can you want? Ahhhh, I see you thinking it. (Hey, you think that's impressive, I can hear pudding.) The more, of course, is a spirited game of backslap. I gotta tell you, I feel I came closer than I usually do to closing the deal last night. For starters, I kind of had that mindset going in. Not that I'm ever truly without that mindset these days, but there was concerted effort not to get hammered right away, or to the point where I knew I would be the braying jackass and have absolutely no shot.

So, the party is good, we're getting our drink on, I housed about a half dozen or so Jello shots over the course of the evening, a few beers, a shot of tequila (served up by a loud, drunken nun no less)...over all, feeling good. Can still maintain a decent conversation, and only drove away one person all night with my words (Rebecca Lobo....sorry Jamie). Then I start to socialize a bit more. To that point, it was basically me hovering about my crowd, striking up small conversations when questions about my costume arose. (Or with cute vampire chicas like Sherrie.) Actually...the sequence of events are a little fuzzy. Here's what I do remember, Miss 1973 (as she will be called) was there, along with a few other Miss America's (one from each decade). Seemed like a nice girl. She and the "white Nelly" were out back smoking with the crew at various points during the evening. She may have not been the brightest (caught the tail end of having the Jim Jones thing explained to her, as she didn't get an earlier reference to it), but she seemed like decent people. Anyway, wind up sitting with her on the front porch later in the evening and well, she's kinda buzzed, to say the least. Not arms folded in front of you, puking on the chest drunk, but she's certainly uninhibited. Like the male that I am, this piques my interest. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not Capt. GHB here. I'm not looking to violate women who don't know it's happening; she wasn't that hammered. So I'm being the witmonkey, cracking jokes, cozying up to her, have her bring me a drink. (Actually, she volunteered the drink, as she wanted some punch with something mixed in and insisted that I have the same.) Get the drinks, continue the chit chat, and then she goes inside. I drink a little of what she concocted (damn that was strong), spill a little, then leave it. Go inside, blah blah this, blah blah that, head to the kitchen, where she's holding a microphone she brought (you know, for the question and answer portion of the Miss America pageant), singing some song that I don't quite recall. Then she says she has to sing something from the 70s. I suggest "I Will Survive." (Why, I don't know, because I kinda hate that song.) She proceeds to sing it in this really hushed and breathy voice, while she slides all over Jesus' body. It's quite a spectacle, and we're getting some looks from the others in the kitchen. She stumbles her way to that songs conclusion (meaning she starts to forget the words and just stops) and starts to sing something else, again, I'm not remembering what exactly. I'm still being treated like a dancing pole. I break this up and go downstairs, mostly to see if she'll follow. No dice. I go back up, and she's gone from the kitchen and to the front porch, where she and white Nelly are cozying up. Now, in his defense, he had been trying with her earlier in the evening, and intermittently throughout, so it's not like he was trying to kill my game. He was just playing his. Within minutes, the game is over: they're grabbing a cab. Oh well. The next 20 minutes or so is me looking for a consolation prize, namely Jodi. She, however, is lit up and of a single mind. Unfortunately for me, that single mind is focused on finding her lost camera, and not images I would like to capture on that camera. So, after she hits rock bottom by digging through her garbage for the camera (and I am, like an idiot, holding the flashlight), I decide to concede. The crew, who were being extremely patient, were waiting on the front porch. We gather up, say goodnights, and we're off. Drop off Carl, and then return to the spot, where I snack on some chips, then call it an evening.

And that was Halloween. Overall, I can't say I'm disappointed. The party really was fun, and it's always good to be out with friends. Sure, some dirty sniz would have capped it off right, but that's like complaining that your lottery jackpot isn't big enough.

It's Alien time. (Jesus this all took a long time to write. Damn multi-tasking.)