Tuesday, October 26, 2010
This year, I've decided to dress up as Andy Warhol for Halloween. I figure this is a safer bet than some of the costumes I've worn in the past.
When I went as feisty "Valley of the Dolls" author Jacqueline Susann, I got into a cat fight, lost one fake eyelash and spilled a martini all over my fake Pucci outfit.
(But for the record, I treated guitar hero Slash with the utmost respect.)
When I went as perpetually intoxicated gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, I became a belligerent drunk for the evening; chomping down on my cigarette holder and spewing obscenities at anyone who crossed my path.
(Including the mild-mannered Scooby Doo you see in this photo.)
Now, from what I've read about Andy Warhol, he was a quiet man who liked to watch the circus around him with an impassive gaze. Surely this is a great way to stay out of trouble for the evening.
Eh, who am I kidding? I'll find some way to make a nuisance of myself. I always do. Even in a fancy lobster restaurant.