October 31, 2008
I lugged a costume from Denver planning to make Friday the 31st a big night. Last year in Denver, I attended a party boasting free vodka served by topless models covered only in paint. That’s a pretty tough act to follow but San Francisco has quite a bit to offer. This year, I dressed as a caveman, complete with bushy wig and my pumas, and I would do my best to act like a caveman.
Another group of our friends planned to attend a Halloween house party in the city. Several of us quickly opposed the idea as the ex-boyfriend of one of said friends would be present. Drama would undoubtedly ensue and I had a more important mission… naked painted models. We decided on the ever popular Polk street in Russian Hill. Littered with unassuming bars and an adventurous crowd, the likelihood of naughty french maids, nurses, school girls, and painted models was very high. Instead, we ran into quite a few Sara Palin impersonators, a pack of pirates (do pirates travel in packs?), Maverick and Goose, and a threesome of cute girls dressed as naughty construction workers.
Stone met me at the studio before we ventured over to the restaurant. He’d quickly managed to round up an outfit from his brother as everyone else in the group was going in costume. Unfortunately, his brother hadn’t washed the astronaut costume in 3 years so it smelled like a Berkeley hippie who’d been living on the streets for six months. Determined to wear some sort of Halloween attire, we dowsed him in cologne a la “Italian shower”. Our efforts may have backfired however as the newly combined scent generated a powerfully fragrant body odor de toilet. It was like spraying perfume in the bathroom after a nasty dump. I suggested we light him with matches as the only “true cure” for bathroom funk… unfortunately Stone refused on the basis that “an astronaut with never do something so foolish”. Around the dinner table later, we contemplated the possibility of smells in the space shuttle. Perhaps you know the answer: Can we smell body odor in space?
Stone and I were the first to arrive at Luella’s for dinner. Unfortunately, we didn’t realized the place: 1) was fancy and dressy 2) was full of grumpy old people who’d specifically come to this restaurant to hide from Halloween 3) had no other patrons wearing costumes 4) may have frowned upon a half naked caveman sporting a giant wig and a smelly astronaut wearing a bright red jumpsuit and cowboy hat. To magnify our discomfort, none of our friends were there to share the embarrassment. So the caveman and his smelly astronaut friend pulled up a seat at the empty bar to savor a tasty glass of Zinfandel while the other guests stared at us in wonder.
Later that night, Stone reeled in one of the many Sarah Palin look-a-likes roaming the bars of Russian Hill. They ventured to her house where she teased him for a couple of hours. Stone, who loves all sorts of women (particularly those dressed as Sarah Palin), eventually became so frustrated with her constant toying that he promptly put on his smelly costume, laced up his boots, and walked the hell out. Despite Stone’s thrust for action, he does have a reasonable threshold for women more interested in playing games