Halloween

Since I was a little kid my favorite holiday has always been Halloween. Don't get me wrong, Christmas was always pretty spectacular as far as presents and food is concerned, but this little faggot finally getting to dress up and get away with it one day a year... bitch please, you can't beat that shit. Even when I was little I refused to do any costume unless it was full-out! When I was so young that I can barely remember I ripped my plastic Gumbie costume on the 3rd or 4th house we went to and I spent the rest of the night crying because the integrity of the shiny green plastic costume from K-mart was ruined. In the third grade I went as Uncle Fester because the Adams Family movie was so hot at the time and I was smart enough not to go as Wednesday, but I got mad at my mom for not letting me shave my head and making me wear pantyhose instead... but she could only find the double-leg hose so I looked like I had Wednesday pig-tails anyway.

Junior year of high school my friends and I decided that we wanted to be the Sanderson Sisters from Hocus Pocus. It had always been one of my favorite movies and a reasonable excuse for me to dress in drag. I was going to be Sarah (naturally) because I was the sluttiest... and the skinniest. We went to Wal-mart and bought yards and yards of fabric with the full intentions of sewing our own costumes even tho none of us had ever so much had stitched a button. Needless to say we ended up asking our respective grandmothers to sew them for us... mine with a little bit of question in her eye as she threaded the elastic through my purple skirt, but they all came out pretty nice non-the-less. I refused to shave the goatee i was rocking at the time and didn't have a stitch of makeup on so I looked just the right amount of ridiculous. The blond wig got reused two years later when I teased it for fucking Jesus and went as Dolly Parton (this time with makeup and giant fake nails) and brought the house down right before I left for my first cruise ship.

Once I moved to NYC my costumes started getting more and more over-the-top. These days I tend to have three separate costumes for the various nights before and after depending on what day of the week my favorite holiday falls on. One of those costumes will always be some form of busted drag, a tradition that gave birth to my drag persona: Pecan Sandy. Her first appearance was as a busted army nurse when I was still a cocktail server at Therapy (a bar... my actual therapy didn't come until about three years later) when the theme was military because I like to show as much skin as possible and the slutty sailor girl covered too much for my liking. If you've never been to Therapy you should know that there's a giant wooden staircase engulfing the majority of the bar, and you better believe I worked that staircase in those 5 inch heels like it was my job... because for the 2 nights I was working, it was. My favorite part of the night must have been buying a vitamin water at the bodega across the street from my apartment in Spanish Harlem and getting hit on by a woman who didn't speak any English whatsoever while my face was still painted like a busted tranny clown. If only it were that easy to pick-up her beefy muscle latino jock brethren. :-/

The last two Halloweens have been by far the most epic in terms of storytelling. For one reason or another I got it into my head that my body was nice enough to walk around NYC in 50 degree weather half naked and covered in body paint. In 2009 I thought it would be cute to go as a slutty naked Vanity Smurf and spent the entire week before trying to find a makeup artist willing to hand paint me blue from the waist up until eventually connecting with the one Mac makeup artist who wasn't already booked for the night. He came up to my friend's apartment where I was staying and I spent the next three hours standing in the middle of the living room with my arms spread while he painted my body blue and of course contoured in some ab lines (a simple trick, but always a good one). After spending the money that I did, I was pretty pissed when I lost the costume contest to a guy dressed like Ugly Betty, but as my friend Chad explained a few days later: "Look at it this way, that guy looked so much like Ugly Betty that he must look like that in real life so if you think about it, you're really the one who came out on the winning end."

Later in the evening my friends and I decided to head to the big dance club where a really drunk guy tried to steal my hand mirror claiming that it went with his costume (it very much obviously didn't... this guy was some kind of klepto) and then trying to get a bouncer to kick me out for "harassing" him and his boyfriend. Eventually I found the guy I had been hooking up with for the last month or so and spent the rest of the night trying to make his face blue... and succeeded. Eventually he left and once I realized I wasn't going home with anyone else took a cab back to his place anyway because after the money I spent on those fake abs I sure as fuck wasn't gonna let them go to waste. It took us both a good 30 minutes in the shower to get all of the blue off. I had shaved pretty much everything I could reach and my super dry skin was sucking in that blue body paint like a twink sucking down free shots on a Thursday night at Splash, so it took quite a lot of body wash and loofah scrubbing to get that shit off and still had it stuck in my armpits for a week. Needless to say all of that pent-up aggression from the scrubbing lead to some pretty good sex and a walk of shame in his clothes back to my friend's place to pack my shit and move into my new apartment. Man, do I know how to pick a good day to move or what?

Last year's Halloween was far more epic to say the least... The weekend started with my friend having his phone keys and wallet stolen, immediately followed by the thief getting his ass kicked by a drug dealer in the street outside the bar. I worked every night of that entire weekend (and practically every night of the week for that matter because my boss wanted me to "make coin" as he liked to put it) so I had no choice but to do any and all partying at work. The first night was fun. The theme was "Shark Week" and I ripped up an old Trapeze School shirt, poured some fake blood all over myself, slapped on some booty shorts and went as a shark bite victim. I'm usually playing "the victim" so I felt like it was a good role for me. Most of my friends stopped by at some point but the bar was way too busy for me to go crazy so I guess I was lucky to have my job as an alcohol moderator. The following night, however, I was not so lucky...

The actual night of Halloween happened to fall on a Sunday, which meant that most of the city had done its partying on Saturday night. This time the theme was "Zombie Jocks" which I still don't really get but the owner paid for us all to get our bodies painted so I wasn't complaining. I obviously showed up in tube socks and a jock-strap cause I'm classy like that and let the happy hour bartender go early cause I'm nice like that. For some strange reason my first hour at work was spent training a new bartender who I had just been drooling over watching a popular music video he was featured in not ten minutes before he walked into the bar. So the night get's going and I pretty much spent most of the night waiting for the night to get going. Apparently the only gays who go out on a Sunday holiday are the one's who get so fucked up that they don't mind calling in sick to work the next day. So I spent the entire night doing shots and screaming and giving the few people there nice views of my ass for good tips. Next thing I know I'm shitfaced looking at the new guy who didn't need the black and white lines painted on his torso to have a fierce body like I did screaming "We look fierce! We need to go to Alegria and be seen like this girl!" And then made the decision to do drugs for the first time in my life. Good call Daniel, good call.

For those of you who don't know, Alegria is a circuit party that happens every couple of months or so usually on holidays, and if you don't know what a circuit party is then you're probably not reading this blog. I had always said to myself that if I ever tried a drug it would be ecstasy mostly just because of the way people described the sensation when using it. However, what they did NOT tell me was that there's a reason why it's called "rolling" and given my heightened state due to a combination of the e, alcohol, and the bump of coke I had done (again, a first... surprisingly) I spent the majority of the night clinging to whatever friend I could find and begging them not to leave me... with the exception of the few short times I spent dancing with my eyes closed thinking "this is the greatest song ever!" (and by song I mean base, because that's really all I could hear). Eventually I ran into a coworker and his friend that I knew had a crush on me and felt that this was the perfect opportunity to cling on to someone and settle my paranoia so I would stop texting my mom at 6am telling her that I was freaking out from my phone that was perched in the top of my jock-strap along with my keys, coat check ticket for my sweater and the cash I had made that night (she's a class act ladies and gentlemen).

I ended up going home with him and once again having a body paint scrubbing party in the shower for the second year in a row. Only this year I wasn't as concerned with getting all of it off cause lets face it, the black shading that was giving me the appearance of a hot body was good to go in my book, especially considering the state I was in. The next morning I ended up doing a 25 block walk of shame complete with tube socks, gym shorts, bright purple sweater, and giant black circles around my eyes. In all I'd say it was an experience to remember but not to be repeated (especially the rolling part). This year I'd like to be a slutty naked ninja turtle, but I'm not sure if I can find 3 other guys who'd do it with me and as you can tell... I don't half-ass Halloween damnit! :)