My Halloween:

So, for Halloween, I went as Frank Sinatra.  The reason?  I get to wear a suit.  I wasn't the only one who seized on this logic at the Dead Rockstar party (not that many people went as Dead Rockstars.... there were quite a few, ahem, slutty nurses).  There were guys going as Buddy Holly (suit with glasses), or just "guy in suit". 
A lot of people assumed I was the Shlesbian's Manager (she went as Bif Naked).  Sometimes, this worked for the Shlesbian's benefit (it kept weird guys from hitting on her), though it didn't always work in my favour (multiple times I was asked about her... and every time, I pushed her under the bus!). 

The party was alright.  I started hitting on a girl dressed as a clown, and things were going well, till the Shlesbian and I decided she had a boyfriend... and was just encouraging me long enough for me to like her friend - a lady dressed Cruella DeVille.  And while Cruella was nice, she was not really my type (I dunno why... she just wasn't). 

I wound up walking the Shlesbian home, and cutting through some residential areas to get home myself.  Of course, that just happens to be when the fun starts.

I dyed my hair black with this weird Halloween crap - and it was obviously fake.  I had a fake microphone on me.  It was two in the frigging morning.  But that didn't stop two seventeen year old gangsta wannabe asshats from asking me if I just got out of a board meeting one my walk home.  Yeah.  A Board Meeting.  Like I'm a friggin' businessman or something. Naturally, one of them kept talking about how much he "loves pussy".  And asked me if there was "pussy" waiting for me when I got home. 

Then he started giving me life advice.  Generally, on how to get "pussy'.  Apparently, my young casanova friend here had already "banged six pussies" earlier that night.  I generally just did the "yeah, mmmhmm" thing while walking.  His friend didn't really say much... he just kind of grunted along, a new age Beavis.

And of course, they walked me most of the way home.  Before they saw a young lady (who I tried to warn away with eye signals) and started their little rituals on her.  Amazingly, it worked.  She asked for smokes, they had smokes, and they started with their pussy-talk.  She was laughing with them.  Between the three of them, I think they had a combined I.Q. equal to a Big Mac. 

Geez.  That would be why I didn't get the clown.  I didn't call her a pussy.

Rookie mistake.