The Hostess with the Okayest

The party went fine, though no one hooked up or got into a fight or anything else. The most interesting thing that happened was that I gave a Columbian guy a peek at my right nipple. It was in front of a bunch of people within the context of the conversation about how my dress was lowcut and dangerous. I went and told Shawn right away. He was unfazed, probably because he ran around in a banana hammock last year asking girls to help him find his keys (which were stuffed in his crotch). I don't really like hosting parties unless everyone promises to have the best time of their lives, to go home before 2 AM, to not spill or break anyting or throw up on the floor or on anyone else, to bring and leave behind tons of good alcohol, and to love me, my apartment, and the tiny carrots I threw on a tray for snacks. Even Jimmy was fairly well behaved. He did talk to Shawn's boss about poop, but he always talks about poop. He also spun around on the dance floor with beer flying in all directions. For him, this is tame. Last year, he bent over and showed me his entire asshole, threatened to punch my friend Liz (he shook his fist at her, saying, You people and your feather boas!), and kept throwing himself on the floor to pop the green balloons on his costume that were meant to make him look like a bunch of grapes on a Mad Dog bottle. No one did anything untoward, which is slightly disappointing. The best part of the evening was when I walked out of the bedroom and saw Luke and Liz and Shawn dancing in the middle of the living room and realized everyone else had gone home. We danced in our socks with the strobe lights flashing and then I cleaned up all the sticky cups. Shawn was convinced not to go as the actual crucifixed Jesus in a droppy diaper type loincloth with a crucifix strapped to his back and instead was kind of a hip hop Jesus with tattoos. He got to spend the whole night with his shirt off which I think was his main wish. I was a mermaid caught in a net. With her one boob showing accidentally.

Oh, one other idea for you since the real Halloween isn't here yet: You could wear 1950s clothes and a pair of those nerdy glasses with one of the lenses smashed and then attach a fake crow to your head or your shoulers or all over and add blood running down your face and you are suddenly from Hitchcock's The Birds.