Monday left me exhausted from my HoD weekend and personal stuff. I was about to shoo all ghosts away, draw my drapes and call it a day.
I’m so glad I didn’t.
Instead I put on my big-girl-pants, figuratively speaking, packed my bag and headed over to Blankbeins, make-up-central for the night.
My Halloween survival kit contained a pair of black wings, a black dress and some make-up. And a wig. So what if all the others bought them to get long, dark hair? I have those 365 days in a row, I wanted a wig, too.
At the Blankbeins the whole kitchen table was covered in little pots and crucibles, mirrors and wipes, scary sweets and powdered make-up.
From my time of arrival everyone got uglier from minute to minute. Hair and skin whitened, ulcerous postules appeared where beforehand was immaculate skin. Scars crossed bulging tissue and teeth were shown that would scare away the most hardened dentist.
Fortunately hem-seams didn’t rise, as our posse doesn’t believe the now so fashionable credo that “slutty is the new scary”. No sexy pumpkins, sexy witches or sexy hot-dogs here, thank-you-very-much!
To be honest, we had a sexy nurse, but she was foremost a scary nurse (think of a certain game that became a movie relatively recently) and just couldn’t help the sexy part.
After all the painting, forming and playing around was done we were left with a fabulous ensemble.
We had a delirious monk that looked pestilence-ridden, a clown worse than the house of 1000 corpses, a strangled ghost bride, a scary Chucky-esque doll, a regular zombie and an one-armed one. With the scary nurse and my fallen-angel self we were quite the sight.
Good thing that we ordered some pizza, we may be undead, but we’re still hungry. Now, where’s my small brain-pizza with extra pus?
This year’s Halloweenparty at the Getaway wasn’t free for costumed guests like it had been the previous year, but admittance wasn’t too steep.
Upon our arrival at half past 10 not many guests were there yet, and even less dressed up.
The venue itself looked marvelous.
(all darkness and no tripod make
Liz a dull photographer)
Really too bad that most guests were either too uptight or lazy for a costume… their loss, really!
The first few hours of the night really rocked, the DJ delivered the tunes and we danced our undead asses off.
More people showed up in costumes and the place got quite crowded – except the “cocktail bar” where we stayed all night. Most of the other guests seemed to prefer their mainstream-sheep-music to our rocking beats. Again, their loss, our gain. At least we still had breathing room. Figuratively speaking, since the cocktail bar is the Get’s only smoker’s room.
As one shitty song started to follow the next the evening turned long and my legs heavy.
Because my Hammer of Doom weekend left me cash-less I was on a tight budget of 10 Euros, six of which I had already spent on the entrance fee. I was down to 2 Euros and the Getaway didn’t promise any more entertainment we hadn’t had enjoyed up until that point, it was already about half past one. So most of us decided to head on over to the RED, to undertake part two of the traditional “Get – RED – bed” routine.
Over there we were greeted by a handfull of customers, not one in costume as far as I could see, and the two owners. They had candy, horror movies and intricately carved pumpkins, definetely an upgrade to Get’s simply carved ones.
I certainly wouldn’t want that last guy to visit me that night!
Exhaustion made us take our
heads hats and head home, to fall into bed and be dead until dark sunrise.
I will add more scary pictures of the posse once I have permission.
This is your chance for the first “Liz is Sparta” give-away.
The person to guess all references to scary popculture books or movies is in for a special treat.
Winners will be drawn out of all participants who post their guess in the comment-section.