Posts Tagged ‘Costumes’

“We’re all Mad here…” — The Mad Hatter

Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for Halloween.  Halloween, as many of you know, is my favoritestest holiday.  That’s not a typo, that’s emphasis, stop changing the subject!  Some people like Valentines Day (they don’t call it VD for short for no reason), some like St. Patty’s day (myself included), some are traditionally obsessed with Christmas/Easter/Thanksgiving.  I was once a proponent of April Fool’s Day… that is, until I ruined the whole damn thing for myself by pulling off the ultimate prank.

I’ll let you mull over the ultimate prank for a minute, I’ll wrap it up later.  Back to Halloween– it’s no secret that I go over the top.  I hit that in the last episode, and in spite of Jill 2.0 causing me issues with creation– last year was no exception.  This year is another story.  Sure, I am still buck nutty for taking a drunken stumble outside the boundaries of normalcy.  Hey, shut the hell up, my usual mental state is not part of this commentary.

Or is it?

Tea is merely a code word for alcohol.

Do you have *any* freaking idea how hard it is to find a Mad Hatter image that *isn’t* Johnny Depp? Iesu Cristae.

So this year’s theme, as the smart kids have already surmised, is “A Journey Through the Looking Glass.”  At first, someone suggested to me that I be the cryptic caterpillar– since obsequious wordplay is my forte and I have a hookah that could be used as a prop.  The thought process started simple, just have a sleeping bag strapped to my waist, curl up on a couch, and slack the night away.  It was a pretty good idea on paper, but then I decided to start thinking about the mechanics of it.

In short, scrap that idea.  There’s no way to not half-ass this costume, especially considering that I haven’t even had the damn time to finish working on the new apartment with Cortana.  If a girl wants to half-ass a costume, she can whore it up and literally go out with half her ass hanging out, and unless she looks like a shaven wildebeest, it’ll be a good time (for more than just her, presumably).   Guys don’t have that option.

So back to the theme, another reason I couldn’t pull off the caterpillar is because I can’t sit still when I’m drinking.  I’m a walker, borderline wanderer, it’s like my body catches wind of my brain’s ADD and goes in search of shiny objects.  Like I’m gonna drag around a caterpillar ass all night– do brides keep their trains on for the full reception?  So, the next logical character was…  The Hatter.  After all, I’ve got that whole “mad” part down, so this schtick is damn-near typecast, right?

Thus was born “The Clockwork Hatter.”  Defenestrate Depp, let Disney drop on him, and yeahhhhhhh…   I tangentially tinkered with this one in my mind, and then went about cobbling it together.  Thanks to Salvation Army, my buddy “Jesus,” and some stuff already on hand–  I’ve all but got it done.  Think one part Alex from A Clockwork Orange, one part steampunk, two parts Hatter, and shake it up with a couple dashes of Dr. Who.

Brain hurt yet?  Pictures will surely follow the test drive, but I’m confident that my Hatter will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen before…  kind of like Thanatos two years ago.

Consider that Death now sells Life Insurance.  WIN.

Although my Steampunk/Clockwork Hatter will never live up to this benchmark of awesome– the same brain cooked it up.
“I am become Death… Destroyer of worlds” – Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 11 Verse 32)
(Also slayer of liquor supplies.)

Now that I’ve swung back to Death, some of you have had the forethought to realize why I no longer am a fan of April Fools Day.  It goes farther than that, even beyond the penultimate prank itself.  Yes, I faked my own death– which is such a massive dick move, it should have its own porn scene with Belladonna.  That said, it’s not the initial prank that ruined it.  Let me give you some back-story, because I ruined April 1 over a decade ago.  I take it back, I ruin toilets after eating Taco Hell–  I outright defiled April Fools Day.

I’ll spare the mechanics, but I can pull a killer Houdini Disappearing Act when I want to– and it was so much easier to do before I got a cell phone.  It was freaking 2001, for crying out loud, the intarwebs were only for gaming, porn, and research– none of these social media shenanigans.  It wasn’t that I successfully faked my death for my fraternity (faked so hard, in fact, they cancelled a fundraiser)– but the collateral damage.  Rumors of my untimely demise had spread beyond the initial prank-ees in the five freakin minutes to the point that days later I still had people giving me the “holy shit I heard you were a hood ornament!” routine.  Come to think of it, social media could have squashed the collateral damage….  or got me a memorial!

So yeah…. moral of the story:  Death’s been dead before, and now he’s a life insurance agent.

I couldn’t make this shit up if I wanted to.

Unplug.

Note:  This has been in the works for over a month, and at least 10 attempts to tag/post/etc

 

I know I swore that I’d pay more digital attention to this undertaking of mine– but I lied like a freaking politician during an election year. That is, I had the intent to do something– or said that I did– and had about as much follow-through as [insert similar witticism here]. What can I say? Shit hit the fan in giant, stinky, corn-laden chunks– and I did as any respectable maniac would. I got the Hell out of the splash zone.

Anyway, with that halfassed lip-service apology out of the way (that I’m sure none of you believed at all in the first place), I finally got my badass zombie hunter costume “done.” Yeah, the quotes went up there because I had no freaking idea what a royal Roman whore leather is to work with. Rosie still lacks the experience to sew effectively– and Jill lacks the strength to punch through jack shit. Needless to say, I had to 86 the freaking reinforced forearms. Trying to get that shit done got put into the category of a balanced government budget– it’s looks pretty on paper, but it’s pretty freaking obvious that it’s a pipe dream.

Regardless– check this shit out.

And the sarcasm headdie...

And the sarcasm headdie...

All things considered, the hidden shotgun holsters, and the hidden prybar holsters worked out perfectly. I can’t complain.  I could complain about how WordPress’ interface has been the bane of my posting existence, or I could complain about how Cortana seemed to take personally how I couldn’t modify her coat in a way that she found suitable– but that would (in order) gain me nothing, or a punch in the dick.   I’m all for gripes that couldn’t ever result in anything besides wasted breath (like my constant middle-finger pointing at politics), but I am not all for a punch in the moneymaker.  What kind of sicko do you take me for?

Ok, back to the chaos at hand.  I never found the hat that I really wanted for the getup– like a wide-brimmed fedora-esque kind of thing, ala Doc Holiday or Van Helsing.  Yeah I know, don’t get on my ass about it, I tried everything.  On top of the shortchanging of the outfit, I realized at the last second that I forgot something key.  I didn’t even think about what to do for a shirt.  I was lucky that I had a random, plain, white shirt that worked.  Considering the stupid amount of work I put into everything else, something this trivial easily slipped my mind.

Don’t even get me started on having to disassemble and repair one of the shotguns— twice— within days of getting it.  Mind you, I’ve never even held a freaking airsoft shotgun in my life before– let alone cracked one open to see how the sucker works.  I am officially all that is man.  Except that I can’t do a push-up yet…  anyway….  (Update:  yes!  I can do  three whole push-ups as of last week!)

Oh yeah, severe props to Cortana for the scrape effects on my face– and these:

Zombie-b-Good.

Pity/Fool. Love/Hate. Yeah. I got my point across, and my own twist on the knuckle tattoo concept.

The costumes were  a hit, all aggravation aside.  On the upside, I didn’t get arrested when walking fully armed into a liquor store to buy rum for one of the parties.  I also got the guilty pleasure of blasting a zombie and watching him drop like a ton of bricks.  Clearly, he’d been drinking far more than I had… and I’d shot him in the nipple with the shottie.  Needless to say, I was laughing so hard– I would have been a happy meal had this been the real Zombpoc.

Oh Halloween, how much I adore thee.  Let me count the ways.

Unplug.

Some kids love Christmas, those materialistic bastards.  Some kids love Thanksgiving, and we see the folly of those ways rolling around Wal-Mart on power chairs.  Some kids love Valentine’s Day– and if we threw people to the lions in celebration, I would too.  I, however, love Halloween– because it’s carte blanche to do whatever the Hell you want, and the only viable scale of judgement is how well you pulled it off.  That is, of course, if you’re sober enough to notice or care.

Halloween was a kid’s holiday– the older I get, the more I realize that (regardless of its origin) this holiday hits its peak of awesomeness when celebrated by semi-sane adults, often accompanied by holiday-justified levels of liquid libations.  Drinking incentives aside, which is more entertaining (and let’s be honest here):  an 8 year old dressed up as Tinkerbell, or a 28 year old Tinkerbell who’s kinda dressed?  How about a 5 year old Transformer that has a mass-produced quasi-plastic costume, or a 30 year old Transformer that made that shit themselves?  Now, put that into the mindset mentioned previously– when pulled off right, the adult versions are always going to win– unless you’re talking about an infant dressed as a teddy bear, that brat wins everything.  Don’t freaking judge me.

So yeah, I’m kinda overboard for Halloween– and we’re not just talking liver abuse.  I mean, I used to merely like it– and pulled the same old semi-undead crap a few years in a row because it was easy and made up of stuff I already had.  It worked because Halloween means you can just dress like a freak and nobody cares.   After one costume that will forever be left to the annals of myth and booze-haloed folklore– I realized that Halloween could be so much more fun than getting tossed in zany attire.  Hell, last year’s Halloween getup was so epic, it’s what first caught the eye of my girlfriend.

Yeah, the hair and the scythe are real.

This is perhaps the best picture of the detail of costume that I could dig up, and unfortunately it doesn't do the make-up justice-- nor show the blackout contacts. Notice how there's a black wrap around Jill-- she was broken three days before this party. By the way, that's not Guy Fawkes in drag, I crappily photoshopped in an image from deviant art to conceal the identity of the bearded lady... I didn't think she wanted his identity revealed. (Before you ask, it was an evil circus. Death had to be there, because there are no safety nets. Duh.)

So, this year’s theme– as stated in prior entries– is a zombie theme.  With the friends throwing said party, and the crew that attends every freaking year, this is going to be pretty sweet.  Not to mention, it’ll be the first anniversary of when the girlfriend and met— so we are going as epic zombie hunters.   I do not screw around when making costumes, and these are probably going to be my best yet.  We’re talking like ridiculously over the top like some diabolical hybrid of Tallahassee from Zombieland crossed with Punisher— only farther into the realm of DIY badassery.  Since it was requested, here’s a shot of what I’m starting with– and why I’m dedicating an entire entry before October blindsides me.

It begins.

Yes, I realize my carpet is a color akin to puke and/or baby shit. No, I do not care that the diagram looks like it was done by a drunk five year old. You get the point, and get to see the "before picture."

As if my inner geek wasn’t already showing by now, and it wasn’t already agonizingly obvious that I’m more than just entertained by the concept of a Zombie Apocalypse (shit, I’m hoping for it, I’m not kidding anyone here)–  well there you are.  I’m making a combat duster that isn’t just going to look bad ass– it is probably going to be classified as a weapon just by itself.  Not to mention, it’s going to have reinforced seams, as well as a ridiculous amount of carrying capacity.  Thank you, Halloween, you’ve provided a “justifiable” reason for creating this.  Don’t argue with me, it is!

Damn, rough crowd today.

Thankfully, the coat cost like $39 bucks, so I don’t feel bad about perverting it from a fairly nice coat– to something that screams, “Expect something insane.”  Pair that up with an array of improvised prop weaponry and concealed alcohol reserves (No, I’m not packing the scythe again this year, but I like where your head is…), and you’re gonna have a matched pair of awesome costumes for the two of us.  After all, it’ll be great physical therapy, doing the small work to get everything right.  It’s not like I’m able to work yet.  Maybe I should actually do something productive, like actually write some prose.

Maybe after I hit the gym.

Unplug.