This is very late post detailing my Halloween. But at least I'm getting it out there before Thanksgiving. :D
My friend asked me to DJ a party this year. Naturally, I said "yes." The theme of the party was ZOMBIE PROM. How awesome is that? I put together a perfect playlist of Halloween party hits, threw on an outfit that I would never be caught dead in on any other night of the year, and consulted my friends who are make-up artists for help in becoming ZOMBIFIED.
I spent the evening telling people I was an undead rock star. I think it was a semi-tasteful costume at first, but my fishnet stockings ripped a little bit throughout the night and dancing in a hot room made my make-up all smeary. I was a hot mess. A sweaty, undead, hot mess.
I meant to take a picture of myself before the party started but I forgot. And luckily, no one snapped a picture of me while I was doing the time warp again in a dark room with a bunch of other sketchy looking zombie people. I have to say - the phenomenon of Facebook photo tagging has made it almost downright unappealing to attend any sort of sloppy social gathering. But I do regret not having a picture of Zombie Lauren to share with you guys.
But the real story lies in my attempts to DJ this Zombie Prom.
Because my little hipster gnome friend that lives down the hall felt that he should also be the DJ. And the girl organizing the innocently told him that he could DJ it with me, thinking that it would be the best way to avoid conflict.
I was not thrilled. This particular hipster gnome is sort of like an annoying little brother to me and his music is usually awful. I did not want to get in a war with him though, so I agreed to let him open the party with a set of his music.
His music was worse than I thought it would be. It's the sort of music that makes you want to awkwardly lean against the wall and then eventually leave the party. Which is what people were doing. In fact, only one person was truly dancing to the music, and it was the guy who put it on. He had a smug little look on his face that seemed to say "Wow, this is great, my taste in music is fantastic!" Apparently he didn't realize that none of us knew how to dance to his weird hipster stuff.
I didn't want to be a bitch, but everyone was leaving. I went over to him and said "Hey, I love you man, but this music is terrible. Let me play some songs?" He started to protest, but I was already in the process of fading his iPod out. "You can come back on when we're in need of cool-down music," I said. I then proceeded to play "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer.
And suddenly, all the zombies in the room started dancing...
I'm sort of glad Halloween is a once-a-year holiday.