Fake Eyelashes and Devil Horns
One year ago was my first Halloween with this company. Halloween just happens to be the Big Boss's birthday, so I learned that everyone goes all out and dresses up and has a grand ole time. I came to work in a cute, black cat outfit. Trite, I know, but it was cheap, simple, and I was adorable. Everyone dressed up - there was a whoopie cushion, a cowboy, a pumpkin, another cowboy, and a rockstar (to name a few), and we made a fun, spooky video for the BB's celebration. It was great.
Silly me to expect the tradition to continue my second year here.
Yesterday, soon before I left work, co-workers began discussing costumes and what to wear and such, so I freaked out, raced to Walgreens and spent minutes pondering which costume to buy. I couldn't decide whether to go all out with the bleeding brain complete with gauze and wig for the low, low price of $2.50, to be a glittery-winged angel, or to don the political mask of my presidential candidate of choice. In the end, I chose none of the above, opting, instead, for the old standby - devil horns. I got myself some fake eyelashes and decided to be a trampy devil.
This morning I woke up late (surprise, surprise) - 20 minutes before I was supposed to leave, which meant no shower, but that worked out better, since dirty hair teases better (I wanted to poof the hair up that would fall behind the horns). I hurriedly piled on the makeup, teased my hair, glued on the eyelashes, stretched on the panty hose (can't tell you the last time I wore nylons) and put on the rest of my black outfit. After readying Audrey and dumping her at daycare (outburst at my leaving wasn't quite as dramatic this morning), I went to the grocery store for the beer and wine we would need for the BB's festivities. I couldn't decide whether or not to wear the horns into the store. I took them off, but I definitely should have left them on. I had on the makeup of hookers and pornstars (definitely more Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra than, well, just about the majority of womankind) and not the usual poundage for a trip to the grocery store. Though I should have just walked through the store with pride, I found myself avoiding everyone's eyes and wishing that I had worn the damn horns. People really need to make the stop-and-gape thing a little more inconspicuous. So shopping complete, I went back to my car, quickly threw the horns on and was off to work.
Off to work, where, suprise, surprise person after person arrived sans costume. And when I say surprise, surprise, I don't mean that in the typical surprise, surpise it-wasn't-really-a-surprise-at-all fashion. I was really surprised. But after telling my hooker-at-the-grocery-store story, I sat at my desk, horns and all, with pride. At least one of us will earn points with the BB.
Silly me to expect the tradition to continue my second year here.
Yesterday, soon before I left work, co-workers began discussing costumes and what to wear and such, so I freaked out, raced to Walgreens and spent minutes pondering which costume to buy. I couldn't decide whether to go all out with the bleeding brain complete with gauze and wig for the low, low price of $2.50, to be a glittery-winged angel, or to don the political mask of my presidential candidate of choice. In the end, I chose none of the above, opting, instead, for the old standby - devil horns. I got myself some fake eyelashes and decided to be a trampy devil.
This morning I woke up late (surprise, surprise) - 20 minutes before I was supposed to leave, which meant no shower, but that worked out better, since dirty hair teases better (I wanted to poof the hair up that would fall behind the horns). I hurriedly piled on the makeup, teased my hair, glued on the eyelashes, stretched on the panty hose (can't tell you the last time I wore nylons) and put on the rest of my black outfit. After readying Audrey and dumping her at daycare (outburst at my leaving wasn't quite as dramatic this morning), I went to the grocery store for the beer and wine we would need for the BB's festivities. I couldn't decide whether or not to wear the horns into the store. I took them off, but I definitely should have left them on. I had on the makeup of hookers and pornstars (definitely more Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra than, well, just about the majority of womankind) and not the usual poundage for a trip to the grocery store. Though I should have just walked through the store with pride, I found myself avoiding everyone's eyes and wishing that I had worn the damn horns. People really need to make the stop-and-gape thing a little more inconspicuous. So shopping complete, I went back to my car, quickly threw the horns on and was off to work.
Off to work, where, suprise, surprise person after person arrived sans costume. And when I say surprise, surprise, I don't mean that in the typical surprise, surpise it-wasn't-really-a-surprise-at-all fashion. I was really surprised. But after telling my hooker-at-the-grocery-store story, I sat at my desk, horns and all, with pride. At least one of us will earn points with the BB.
posted by The Narcissist at 9:02 AM
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