swanky

As usual, the plans were all a jumble. One group was meeting at one house with another group. They'd make their way to a second meeting house, acquiring a second car of people. Monkeys and llamas cohabitating in a third car trailed at a safe distance.

Pizza somewhere, where we finally ended up all together before the big show. Makeup for Carnie and Chynna and The Other One (Polly?), and gin for myself. And a shield! My only defense: a plastic lion-clad slab of armor, strapped to my forearm and worn over jeans, a red tee, and a blue hoodie. Max gave me a dog/lion mask, and I felt anonymous. Good thing, too. Finally, a van ride, twisty up between enormous enclaves and armadas of escalades.

A torturous uphill driveway stormed barefoot by half our party, so steep. But the top! The party! We showed up as Wilson Phillips and crew (allowed as a tagalong for providing preparty materials and lipstick), to warm, vibrating hugs from the priest, the host, the director, Marcos. His dildo wooed.

The party rocked. Open bar, the typical sparse, concrete-floored flat screen-paneled bachelor pad nee 70's hilltop party house filled with cross-dressed Kiss and Michael Jackson and Naughty Girlscouts and two friendly (and one sullen) dogs and a Whoopee Cushion and Kelly Kapowski* was there too, I think.

More gin. Wandering, talking, patiofirepitsitting. Poolgazing. Passing it around. Good music and good people. Whipped it out in front of the Moonman Toilet Paper Holder (Best Group Video, "All The Small Things") a couple of times, and before I know it we're stumbling back down the hill.

More van, down around the crazy hills and into the green haze at the end of the night.

It was a good Halloween weekend!

* It might have actually been Tiffany. She gave me a dirty look when I took the picture and asked her for a big, "Go Bayside!" I'll have to ask Polska for the documentation.

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By The Frames