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the adults in us are dead 2009-10-26 10:27 a.m. "I want to play! I want to play!" -Christina Runak Tajalli, 22 Next time she laments how she's lost her youthful glow (everyone has that when they're 15, now you have Manolos. Trust me, upgrade!) I'm going to remind her that she squealed the above in all seriousness. All of Friday was spent doing things no respectable twenty-something ladies should be doing. Contrary to what people may think, I make daily to-do lists, and Christina's google calendar is the frightening totalitarian ruler of her life. It's surprising then that we left making our costumes to the day of/mere hours before the Halloween party Nima and I were hosting. We spent an hour cutting boxes without any regard to safety rules of thumb, and spray painted them silver in a closed corner without circulating air or face masks. Irresponsible and clumsy, just like a 5th grade project. Christina's dad kept checking on us - because we really needed to be supervised. Seriously. "Most girls try and look attractive on Halloween. @cthet convinced me to be Ricky Gervais under Bret McKenzie as a robot. Come hither, boyz." Even our costumes were meant for 12-year-old boys. Being Ricky Gervais and Smerch was more about acting the part than looking it. Because really, there's no distinct look to the pair. To prep Christina for her character, I told her to: "wear black, laugh hysterically and often, and target one person to make fun of all night - preferably with an odd-shaped head, but any deformity will do." I was just going to wear glasses, make dry jokes and randomly but impressively start rapping throughout the night. We let the boxes dry while we went to get pumpkins. We were running out of time and rushed to get them from Smart and Final - else we would have gone to a pumpkin patch and staged cheesy seasonal portraits. Despite the time crunch, we wandered around Huntington Beach for awhile in and out of ghetto stores, buying nothing essential and mostly just candy or a plastic pumpkin candy pail. Yep, I bought a candy pail. I'm not even going trick-or-treating. Christina came back to the apartment with me to finish our costumes while I decorated for the party. I actually felt really bad about the amount of work she had to do, but the world will probably end if I ever voiced my feelings out loud. So thanks, dude! I even made her start on a project that I remembered from elementary school: wrapping tissue paper around lollipops to make ghosts. At least she made them grown-up ghosts with touches of mascara. At first we decided that it would be best to put off putting the costumes on until the very last moment, because once on we would be uncomfortable and also unable to sit. I taped up my box and just tried it on to make sure that it all fit and everything (because four cardboard squares can be tailored to my shape). Christina sees, and like a jealous sibling, demands the same. Once she has her's on and we're standing side by side, I double over as far as the stiff suit will allow. It was too ridiculously epic. The robot boxes were surprisingly easy to put on and take off, so we were in and out of costume all night. I don't remember anything other than an hourlong frame on the balcony, when Christina and I somehow fell in with the "latino" crowd. I told a peruvian girl I loved Peru and Galileo when I was a kid. They made us shout "cabrones" every time we drank. Que jovial! I'm pretty sure I just made that saying up by pronouncing "jovial" with a spanish accent in my mind. The party dragged on until 3 am. I was just barely staying conscious; I felt weird about going to sleep while there were strangers milling about my house and going into my room to use the bathroom. Finally, the last group (the latinos) left - but not before taking a fangirl picture with me and Christina in our costumes. We obviously won the unofficial contest. It's a shame that I won't get a chance to wear the suit again. I can't pack it for DC, so I'll be Max the night of. Argh, so much work put into it, such a shame.
Ready?
Steady.
Go!
Christina and I like yelling at Nima unnecessarily. It's okay. He calls me a hag, and by the end of the year I'll probably be graduated to "cunt". No hard feelings.
Doing the robot. I spent all my creativity on making the costume.
This is included only because my feet are HORRIFYING. Happy Halloween!
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