Happy Halloween...Now Clean This Up.

As I've said before, Halloween is my favorite night of the year. You can let your freak flag fly, go bananas, and no one will judge. This year was the second annual NN Halloween Costume Fiesta and as usual mayhem reigned.

I simplified things a little this year. Instead of tons of food and a huge array of beer, wine, and booze, I ordered some party platters of sandwiches, got six cases of Bud Light, and two handles each of: vodka, rum and whiskey. I also bought an ice louge and the biggest bottle of Cuervo 1800 Silver they had to accompany the louge. This apparently was the downfall of several people.

There were some really great costumes. There were scary, gory, funny, creative, stupid, and of course slutty ones. One girl dressed up like Sarah Palin and looked so much like her that when my sister answered the door she was shocked for a second and wasn't sure if she should open it, fearing it was the real Palin.

One of my neighbors brought this crazy clan of Argentines who were completely off the wall, screaming, pounding beers, and never having seen one before, made sweet, sweet love to the ice louge all night. There was also a French group, and one of the girls was SOOOO fucking good looking, but there with this little dorky French kid. He must have been hung like a Wookie to score her. I think there were also about five CIA agents, real ones, not people dressed up like agents, there.

One of the agents brought a girl dressed up as a high class hooker. She was pretty tall to begin with then had on these huge high heels and a giant afro wig that made her look even taller. She was also wearing big sunglasses, a fur coat, and underneath a very skimpy shiny dress that showed off her really tight body. At one point in the night I was standing in a group with her talking about the show The Jersey Shore when she mentioned "DTF". I said "DTF, what's that?" and she said "Down To Fuck". The word "fuck" is thrown around a lot, but the way she said it, and the context it was being used in, shocked me for a second. She must have seen it on my face because she followed that up with "There's also "DTAF". It didn't take me too long to figure out what the "A" was for, but I played along and said "OK, what's that?" and she said "Down To Ass Fuck" then casually took another drag off her cigarette. I thought she was dating the CIA guy, but had to ask, I said "You down with that?", and again very casually she said "Sometimes". I wasn't sure if it was her talking or her costume persona. Naturally I was intrigued, though.

A few of my friends showed up at 11pm, and one said "We brought you something" then slid me a zip-lock bag that was filled with two heavy squares individually wrapped in paper towels. I looked at it for a second then asked "brownies?" and they both said "Yup". I asked "Did you guys have one?" and they said "One and a half each." I wisely opted not to eat them.

At about 1am was stunned to see Madonna from last year's Halloween party walk in with a group of people. There was a connection for her to the party, but the reason I was surprised was because I had been told she wasn't thrilled with me after hooking up with her a few times and never seeing her again. Frankly, I was kind of glad to see her because I didn't have many prospects at the party and I knew she would be "DTF".

A little later in the night I was talking to my sister and one of the CIA agents when she said "You should hook up with the hooker". It caught me really off guard because I thought she was the CIA agent's girlfriend. I mumbled and pointed to the agent, unsure what to say. He sensed what I was doing and said "She came with me, but we're not dating, I have a girlfriend." Game on.

After the crowd thinned a group of us were sitting around in the yard talking, and I was flanked: on one side was the hooker and the other Madonna. Madonna had that thousand meter stare and I knew she was pretty tanked. The hooker seemed buzzed, but I was having a really hard time talking to her. I decided that she was neither DTF nor DTAF, and when her friends got up to leave I said good night and that was that.

Right around this time both my brownie friends hit a wall and promptly passed out on my couch. It was 2:30am and time to go home. Madonna's friends said "OK, it's getting late, I think we're going to head home". This was partially a statement and partially a question aimed at Madonna to see what her intentions were for the rest of the night. She looked at them, waived and waived at one of the girls and said "Good night" to her. That was that, I suppose. She's staying.

I wasn't surprised that the crazy fucking Argentines were the last ones to leave, and by leave, I of course mean "thrown out of the house". They drank their way right up to my front door then stopped, and basically refused to take another step. I grabbed a bunch of beers and some plastic cups and bribed them to leave one at a time with roadies. When the last one stepped over the threshold onto my porch I quietly closed the door then locked the deadbolt.

When I turned around I saw Madonna trying to walk upstairs but unable to make forward progress, all she was doing was swaying. I've seen this movie before and knew my prospects of hooking up were slim. I said "Are you OK" but got no response. I helped her up the stairs and put her in my bed. She passed out into a heap of dead weight before her head hit the pillows.

I turned off the music outside, killed the lights then locked up. I had face paint on as part of my costume so I took a shower and washed it all off. When I got into my room I stripped down and crawled into bed with the lifeless Madonna, who was still in her slutty little costume. I hadn't been in bed for more than a second when she popped up and sprinted to the bathroom. "Sweet!", I said out loud, at least grateful that she made it to the bathroom. Then, I smelled it. I jumped out of bed and turned on the lights. There, ALL over my room, was red and white vomit. It was on my floor, on my dressers, on my stereo, and all over my bed. My dog walked in and was about to start eating it when I grabbed her and shooed her down the hall, but when I got into the hall I saw that Madonna had puked her way all the way to the bathroom like she was on a bombing run. I yelled to no one in particular "Are you kidding me! This is so not cool." I heard a muffled moan come from the bathroom, and thought she might be drowning. Still holding the dog's collar to keep her from lapping up the puke I looked in the bathroom and saw Madonna, on her hands and knees, sloshing around a pool of puke with a wad of toilet paper.

If I believed in Karma I would say this was fair retribution for many of my despicable past indiscretions.

So, at three in the morning I stripped my sheets and my duvee cover off my comforter, mopped the floor, cleaned the bathroom, and sterilized every surface in my room. Finally, after fifteen minutes of vomiting Madonna reappeared and I changed her (like a baby) into a t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

For the rest of the night my house smelled exactly like a hospital. Caustic ammonia-based cleansers trying unsuccessfully to mask the odors of various violently expelled bodily fluids.

At 11am we finally got out of bed. I can honestly (and happily) say that I have never seen anyone leave as quickly as Madonna did. I'm not sure she said a single word to me. As a matter of fact, she left in such a hurry that she didn't even close my front door. I wish I had footage of it, she fled like a refugee.

It was at this point that I noticed that in all the excitement my dog had a nasty bout of diarrhea and sprayed the comforter, which was on the floor in the hallway, with shit. I started laughing uncontrollably. My sister walked into the hall and said "How is that...that shit and puke covered blanket funny?" I said "It isn't, but I would almost like to bring it to my dry cleaner, Mrs. Hung, to see what she says".