Do you love Halloween as much as I do? (pfftt. As if you don’t). Most of this stems from my love of dressing up – I’m pretty much the Queen of ‘Any Excuse to Wear Fairy Wings’-ville. (and that’s HRH Queen Emma, to you…)
But, thanks to our second home, The Espy in St Kilda, we’ve got a new Halloween tradition. Thankfully, it still involves ridiculous costumes and lollies, but it also involves live music and a hefty dose of rock. Which makes the boy one pretty happy flesh eating zombie.
The annual Creepshow Festival sort of outdid itself this year. We had the usual ghouls, vampires and zombies, getting their rock on with an assortment of Sesame Street and Mario Bros alumni. And a rather strange zombie…uh…male appendage. (I’d like to see the betting odds on me ever using that sentence again in my lifetime…)
Much like the ‘boys may cry only on grand final day, and only if their team loses’ rule of masculinity, the Makeup Sub Clause 3, paragraph 7 of the How to Be a Real Man Statute was invoked. (this clearly states that ‘all men may wear make up only on Halloween, and only for the purposes of enhancing their costume’, for those of you a little sketchy on your Bloke Law) There was make up sponges, foundation and a whole lotta eye liner. Pretty sure I’m now single for putting that in a public forum.
We had a flesh eating zombie. A vampire. Frankenstein. And Joey from Slipknot. (We also resembled the Backstreet Boys’ Everybody (Backstreet,s Back) video clip. Sadly, there was no cover. The ‘Thriller’ of Gen Y’s, peeps, just putting it out there…) The boys rocked the house, rocked their make up off, and surprisingly, I resisted the urge to hose the boy down in the backyard when we got home. (C’mon…I have white sheets, people…white sheets.)
Next year, get your creep on, and come on down. It was a freakishly good night.