Boo.

Hi. So yeah, I'm a bit late, but here's the previously promised picture of my Halloween costume. I was keeping it partly under wraps so that most of the people at the Dueckman Halloween party wouldn't have advance notice. Those of you who read this via facebook will have already seen this pic- it's my new profile portrait.

The rabbit ears were added spontaneously for a while at the party, and while technically not part of the costume, it worked, so hey. The hair was done at Moz... and looked better on me than I expected...

I go into there and talk to the lady staffing the counter, and explain what I wanted, and why. She says "Oh, I have just the girl for you!"

"Sorry, I'm married."

My appointment was a week later, in time for a shift at Ghost Ridge, but not so early that I'd be running around like a punk for a week. Not that _I_ minded. The gal that was picked out to do this job seemed quite pleased to be doing it. She probably gets a lot of requests from ladies like "I want it like Jennifer Aniston, kinda." No wait.. that's probably out of style.. who has the hair they all copy now? Whatever.

When the cut was finally done, I turned to leave, and found I had a row of ladies watching it happen. How often do you get an audience for a haircut?

I also did a job on my goatee, though the pic doesn't show it well. The bloody handprint on my face was good ole water based poster paint, (Which somehow disappeared all on its own by the time I got home) assorted junk around my neck, and the welding goggles that reminded me of the sunglasses I had in highschool, for the extreme tint. These goggles were horribly uncomfortable though. They spent more time around my neck, or perched on my head than on my face.

By far, the most difficult part of the outfit was my shoulderpads, and matching kneepads. Yes, that's a tire. A steel belted tire. My tough serrated knife was nearly powerless. My father in law's hacksaw was gruelingly slow, (although he was quite determined!) but Uncle Mark happened to be in the area with a skill saw. That did it. Sparks, stink, flying chunks, lo, the epic struggle.

Later on, when I needed an alteration, I didn't wanna pester those guys again, so I pestered another guy, Peter Gobbee, who brought forth his previously unused angle grinder, (for those of you unfamiliar, if you know a dremmel tool... it's like that, but on steroids. ) He also found the multi-stage solution to getting those spikes through. The steel belting poked out on the cut edges, and filing only wore down the rubber, exposing more metal... so I quit while I was ahead. Between that and the back ends of the spikes, this was not an item of comfort. A thick jacket would be needed.

After that, it was easy to string the chains across the back to hold it on. "You're NOT wearing that on the bus", my wife said as I prepared to wear most of the costume (minus the haircut and makeup) to the sci-fi convention at the start of October, "Some crazy guy will take it and use it to attack the bus driver!"

"Relax," assured Adam Zilliax, "The crazy guy is already WEARING it" Well, I relented, and my spiked shoulderpads found their own ride to the convention and back. However, when I wheeled to the Halloween party, with my spikes, and my triple mohawk, I was casting one badass shadow in front of myself every time I passed under a streetlight. (Remember, I didn't have the bunny ears on at that point!)

And so now, I have my difficult-to-dispose-of steel-belted armor to unload. I entertained wearing it to next years sci-fi convention, but I don't know where I'd store the unwieldy gear. Ghost Ridge might want it...

So now, I have a shaved head and chin, and the epic tale of the tire is done....

and it's almost 3 bloody AM, and I can't sleep due to coughing my lungs out. WHEEEE!!!!