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As my brother Brett was unemployed in Washington DC, sitting listless
and bored and waiting to hear back about various job opportunities
(he's since taken a job as a consultant for Accenture), I
decided to fly his Playstation-addicted, destitue ass out
to SF for a little bro-down.
Friday,
October 29th
The Bertmaster General upon his arrival in Oakland.
On the way back to my place, we stopped at Whiz Burger on
South Van Ness. Despite being in a sketchy-ass gah-gah-ghetto
section of the Mission (that I almost lived a block from),
this old skool 60s drivethru burger place puts In N' Out
Burger (which I love) to fucking shame. Hot Damn.
After excessively patting each other's back to help shake
loose any potentially embarrassing "burger burps," we headed
over to Rickshaw Stop to check out their Halloween party.
Eh.
Leela the Happy 50s Housewife ("MAKE ME MEATLOAF!") and my
brother.
Sherlock Mary and my brother being enveloped by a ghost.
No, seriously.
Mike Doyle wrassling with the cobwebs.
DJ Dead-Superman on the decks. Wait, can I get a close
up of Superman's weird, bulgy nuts?
Yeah, there we go. Thanks.
I dressed up as a zombie that only eats boobies.
After some time on the dancefloor (where I repeated demonstrated
my hungry boobie-zombie act on girls I didn't know) we bid
farewell to Superbulge *shudder* and called it a night.
Saturday,
October 30th
On Saturday afternoon we met up with Sid, my brother's friend
from college who now lives in SF. I took them for sandwhiches
at Love and Haight and my brother ate his first meal without
meat ever. True story. Afterwards we fucked around
the city all day and waiting until the last minute possible
to do our...
...Halloween costume shopping! The best way to select a costume
is wait until like 45 minutes before the Halloween parties
all start and then go to the Halloween store...you
go through the ravaged shelves and try to put a costume together
with what little supplies they have left. (This is the genius
method that led to such classic past-Halloween outfits like
Magnum
P.I. and Sort-of
one of The Misfits!). Since my brother, Sid and myself
were all going to be going out together, we agreed to try
to find costumes that matched.
The only thing that the Halloween Store had left in triplicate
were these stoopids hats and grass skirts. Check out my brother's
facial response to me saying "Well, I guess that settles
it. Looks like we're going to be Hawaiian Hula girls!" Hahaha.
Here's Sid and I with our smoking coconut-bikini tops. After
we got our outfits on, we realized that in San Francisco
dressing up as a hulagirl isn't just for Halloween and worried
that some people might not ever realize that we'd even
dressed up.
So we enlisted the make-up expertise of hot black Amber and
decided we'd go out dressed as...
...dead zombie hula girls.
"Braaaaaains! I want brains........with pineapple!"
With our costumes all finished, we walked out of my apartment
door and were immediately met by this insane crowd of people.
My apartment was on Market and 15th like two blocks from
the heart of the Castro. Which means that Halloween in my
neighborhood looks alot like...
...this. Hahaha.
We met up with Michael "PLO Member" Schickenberg and Mike
"The Mailman" Doyle and decided to hit up some parties.
"Mommy why is Santa dressed up like a nun? I'm scared mommy!"
A few of Mike's friends had put together a Halloween-inspired
Ramones cover band called "The Raclones" (Ha!
Get it?) and they were going to be performing on Market a
few blocks south
of my place.
When we got there, the instruments were all set up and a
crowd waited. After a few restless minutes, some dude hopped
on the drums and all these people...
...hopped on the mic and started freestyling over the drumbeat!
This guy was rappying about how he looks like a overgrown Samoan baby
throwing a tantrum.
Then the stage was cleared and The Raclones got ready to make their
big entrance. But not before I managed to snap this awesome picture
of Timmy Fifteen here smoking a doober on the street. Hahaha. I'm so
telling your mom.
They were pretty good and the singer
had an uncanny resemblance to the real deal Holyfield Joey Ramone.
Check him out.
This guy threw himself on the pavement and just started going apeshit.
"Backstage." Hahah.
Clockwork Orange Guy here was a real crowd pleaser...
...at least he was until Crazy Octopus man cut-in and totally schooled
his ass.
Is there anything better than a cute, underage
girl in a wig fisting a Bud pounder on the street?
Dick and George were on hand.
In the middle of the mayhem, this group of 8 or 9 kids, all in matching
orange and black "80s outfits," run into the middle of the dance area,
throw down this piece of cardboard and take turns pretending to breakdance.
It was some of the funniest shit I've ever seen.
Go banana! Go banana! So in the midst of all this craziness, I told
my brother that I kept seeing some kind of weird movement coming from
this rounded, second-story
room that was overlooking the street. He was like "No way, stop
bullshitting. You're just trying to freak me out." So I was like, "Watch
this, I bet I can get a picture of whatever it is." So I took
the picture and sure enough...
...I managed to capture this! When I showed my brother the photo on
my tiny camera preview screen he almost dooked his drawers. But
upon closer examination what we thought might be some evil spectre
just turned out to be...
...some really old Chinee guy sitting in the dark in a rocking chair
watching all the people carry on outside his window.
Mailman Mike poses with some super-sexy flamingo girl that walked
by. (Just look at her fuzzy pink leg-warmers!)
Mike's roommate Jaimie and her friend.
Caaaaandygram! It's a landshark!
Hey, it's Gizmo! This is totally one of those costumes
where you buy the pattern and the fabric and your mom
would sew it for you. When I was seven years old
my
mom
hooked
me
up
with
an
"ET the Extraterrestrial" jammie that turned out looking a lot like this
one. (She even put a little pen light in the finger so I could make
that shit light up. I love you mom!)
After The Raclones show we headed into the Mission and met up with
Tracie and her friend Heidi to hit a few house parties.
On the way over, we stopped in a liquor store where my brother and
Sid, despite my repeated warnings, decided to try Night Train Express
(the very finest of fortified bum wines) for the very first time. I
was like "Yo, Guns N' Roses even wrote a song
about
how that shit's even too hardcore for them...do you know how hardcore that
is?" At first they laughed at me, but then they started to understand
that I wasn't joking around when the toothless 60-year old man at the
register who had tattoos on his face looked at them increduously and
said "Night Train? Are you sure you want to do that, guys? Wow." For
a minute I thought they were going to back out - I mean shrugging off
Axl Rose's warning is one thing, but to ignore the tattooed-face check
out guy? That's crazy. But in the end, they put their money on the
counter. The checkout guy just kept shaking his head as he bagged them
up and as we left the he called out "Good luck!" Hahaha.
The first house party we went to kinda sucked. But they at least had...
...a lady in a giant, scary Cabbage Patch Kid type costume...
...and a puppy. Awwwwww! Puppy!
We left the party and by the time we got back out on the street both
my brother and Sid had finished their bottles of Night Train. (The
next day while we were looking at all these photos my brother got to
this one and said "Yep, finishing that bottle of Night Train and posing
for this photo is pretty much the last thing I remember." Hahaha. At
the next party we met...
...Diane Keaton! Hahahah. And...
...Mr. T! "I pity the fool who...who...shot me in the
face with silly string!"
The only thing funnier than the back or Mr. T's head is my
brother's totally butt-ass wasted shit-eating grin.
Just one bottle of Night Train and he was chortling
like a wheezy hobo! Hahaha.
Here's us on our way to the next party. Check out Sid half-walking,
half-falling down the street.
Tracie and her friend Forehead Cut. (I think she was one of the few
people we saw that night who put less effort into her costume than
we did).
Disco Belly and Grover and HEY! LOOK! Another Hula Zombie! Yay!
On the way to the next party, Sid had to stop and pee like three times.
We met back up with Mailman Mike and his crew at some houseparty that
had a rad backyard garden on a hill.
Sid and my brother, crunked out of their tiny minds, kifed a
giant, two-litre bottle of Malibu (fucking Malibu!) from
the house and sat on the ground passing it back and forth taking
swings and cackling. See what happens when you get the Night Train
in your
blood?
On the way back towards my place I made them stop and get some slices,
hoping it'd help soak up some of the alcohol (and anti-freeze) that
was in their systems.
And they made friends with strangers.
And Sid peed a buncha more times.
We ended up on my rooftop...
...watching the lingering crowd.
Well, Brett and I watched. Sid drunkenly slurred obscenities and gibberish
at them.
Self-portrait: Drunk Zombie-Hula-Boys, 4am.
Sunday,
October 31st
The next morning we got up and my brother needed a serious breakfast
to help him recover from having been hit by THE NIGHT TRAIN! When you're
super-hungover you do things like order pancakes...
...with peanut butter on them.
Afterwards, we hit the giant arcade downtown and played video bowling.
(Because regular bowling would've totally been too
strenuous. Hahah).
And then we rounded out the day with a nice, easy game of golf. Hahah.
Thanks for coming to visit, Brett!
(added
on 09.14.2005)
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