But I can't just be normal about it. First there's my costume. Two socks safety-pinned to my shirt.
I used to do more complex costumes. Costumes involving squibs. "Hey john, what are youBAPBAPBAPBAPAAAGHOHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKHE'S
Another year I carefully built a fake forehead and buried a string in it so at the proper time, I could pull the string and..."OHMYGODHISFUCKINGHEADJUSTCAMEAPAR
It's really cool when people faint because of your costume. I felt bad about the therapy they were going to need, but hey, I have MUCH love for Tom Savini.
But I got tired of needing weeks to prep. Of tasting fake blood for days.
So now the reaction i get is..."What the hell are you supposed to be?"
silence..."BWAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAA...that's cool...fucking stupid, but cool as hell".
and I can be out of costume in five seconds.
The other great part is taking horrid advantage of my designated driver status, and calling people who are sucking on the beer bong pussies because it isn't full, or agreeing with stupid drunk girl that we indeed all SHOULD be naked. (hasn't happened here yet, but trust me, drunken twentysomethings are like a canvas to me...and my camera)
hmmm...my horns aren't sharp enough yet :-)