It's Halloween. If you're American, this means lots of crass rituals involving dressing up and going "trick or treating". If you are English or over the age of 6, it is a matter of supreme indifference to you. This is a fairly poor show actually, seeing as we invented the bastard. As we all know, Halloween was created by druids and vampires in Roman times, to honour the Moon and that. The Mummy was probably involved on some level as well. That guy has his bandaged hands in many pies.
Fortunately this year my house has remained utterly unbothered by trick or treaters (who around here take the shape of sweatsuit-wearing four year olds out on their own without any kind of costume on, demanding sweets). Possibly word started to spread of the small, withered carcasses slowly drying on hooks in my larder, and how their ranks swell every October. The local children now know to steer well clear of the Meathook House.
On the way back home this evening I noticed a lot of lame costume choices walking the streets. Matrix outfits seemed to be a popular choice amongst corpulent adults, while the kids' favourite seemed to be Spiderman. How Spiderman and Neo are meant to be scary I don't know, although I concur that watching Tobey Maguire and Keanu Reeves act is quite terrifying. Right, gang?
Anyway, it prompted me to think up some "alternative" Halowe'en costumes. Perhaps the following suggestions will give people some better ideas for next year's festivities. A fat bearded white bloke dressed up as Morpheus is scary, but not in in the "fun" way.
From, of course, Shaun of the Dead. Affect a white shirt with red tie and name tag, black trousers and shoes. Complete the ensemble by getting some red on you, and wielding a cricket bat. A Winchester rifle is a possible alternative, but only if you are fairly confident you won't end up being shot to death by over-eager armed policemen. If possible, coerce an overweight friend into playing the role of Ed.
The ultimate badass horror film hero is bristling with Halloween costume potential. Blue longsleeved shirt, manly work boots and trousers, razor-sharp jawline and chainsaw for a right hand. If you own the special edition Evil Dead DVD in the spongy "book of the dead" packaging, carry that around with you, demanding primitive screwheads that you be returned to your own time. If you're really dedicated, actually saw your right hand off. A sawnoff shotgun rounds off the costume, and again makes you fair game for trigger-happy coppers. Also, throw copies of the awful Evil Dead computer games at people. That's a whole fresh kind of terror.
Dye your hair grey, get a set of gold earrings, and watch with amazement as you are magically transformed into Most Haunted's faux-psychic bullshit artist. Walk around "sensing auras", getting posessed by "robed figures" and calling up the spirits of the dead by inarticulately spouting half-arsed psychic bollocks in your utterly drab, non-mystical Liverpudlian accent. Bonus points for tricking gullible people into thinking they are talking to recently-deceased loved ones and then charging them a handsome premium for the privilege of being exploited by your bare-faced unapologetic charlatanry.
Indiana Jones Gestapo Dude
The chap with the terrifying coathanger from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Work on your vaguely pervy german accent, then walk around on Halloween night, heiling the crap out of some Hitler. If you're feeling adventurous, get your makeup out and recreate the "melt scene".
Big Trouble In Little China's levitating demon emperor. Especially good if you are actually Chinese or can walk through walls, or both (all Chinese people can do this, but they keep it a secret). Also, you get a choice of the two different Lo Pans - the little basket case in the wheelchair, or the twelve foot tall roadblock.
The punchline in many a not-funny internet nerd joke, this is one for people who like a challenge -the challenge being that to accurately portray Cthulhu, you'll have to design and build a costume that not only accurately resembles Lovecraft's fabled bat/squid/fat guy/god/whatsit, but actually drives people insane at the sight of it. Extra credit for squamousness and rugosity.
Derek from Bad Taste
The second Derek on the list. Yes, he's a Derek, and Dereks don't quit. Affect a Peter Jackson accent ("what are you dirty hoo-ers doin` on my plenet?"), get a long scarf, chainsaw and, most importantly of all, tie your belt around your head to stop your brain from falling out. For added impact, get some offal from your local butcher and periodically attempt to stuff it back into your ruptured cranium.
Invisible Huge Monster from Lost
Easy, this one. Just hang around in the woods, play some ungodly, horrifying roars on a powerful speaker system and knock over a few trees. But make sure nobody sees you, or you'll ruin the mystery. Are you a dinosaur? Are you a ghost? Are you God? Or are you a physical manifestation of all the survivors' subconscious fears and desires, suggesting that the series' creators owe quite a lot to 1950s science fiction film The Forbidden Planet? Does anyone give a flying testicle?
The Master Chief
I know the Chief is not in the least bit spooky, but I wanted an opportunity to make a "Halo-Ween!!!!" joke. Apologies.
That's all I can think of for now. Bugger off, you bastards.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Kakapo are superb. That's all you need to know about them.
A malicious rumour about me has been circulating recently - people are saying that I was raped by Howard from the Halifax adverts. This is total fiction. While I did rape an ape and then steal his cape (as a souvenir), I have never had any contact, sexual or otherwise, with that man. The only explanation I can think of is that he raped someone else and mistook them for me on account of his comically thick spectacles.
A Google image search for "Howard from Halifax" yielded this picture. This probably means something.
I am moderately drunk, on fortified wine. Seriously fortified wine. This wine's got a fuckin` moat and drawbridge. And like all drunks, I am inclined to tell everyone how drunk I am. Nobody is around for me to tell at the moment, so I am telling the Internet instead. I am also drunk on VICTORY, because I just slaughtered Mr. Jerky and his "insane" friend Mr. Beardo in four consecutive Unreal Tournament matches. I wore those fuckers like cheap cologne. I AM THEIR MUM, AND I JUST TOOK THEM TO SCHOOL IN THE CAR OF PAIN. Anyway, I am that kind of drunk where I giggle in an imbecilic manner at everything I type, believing it to be Comedy Gold, only to wake up the following morning, review, and realise that I have produced a bigger load of shit than Bernard Manning on laxatives.
I have been with Claudia for two years from tomorrow, which is brag-able. We spent the weekend being all cooey and lovey-dovey and generally disgusting and pissing off everyone around us, and it was splendid. Speaking of pissing people off, on the way back from town today there was possibly the most annoying girl who has ever sat in front of me on the bus sitting in front of me on the bus. She was one of those Crazy Students whose vocabulary consists of "how random!" and "actually". This one had the particularly annoying trait of saying 'et cetera' constantly and pronouncing it "IG-SETCH-RA". I bet she has a blog where she posts her "thoughts" which she thinks are in the slightest bit original. Oh.
I've been making aeroplane kits. It is incredibly fiddly and annoying, but ultimately it is deeply satisfying when I am done and can stick the finished model on my book shelf and wait for it to fall off. It's like an allegorical lesson that toil and hard work pay off in the end, even in iredeemably nerdy pursuits.
Plane fans will recognise this as a Chance-Vought F4U Corsair. Normal people will recognise it as a waste of time.
Right, enough. It's past my bedtime and my face is falling off. Goodnight!