Highschooooool!

I was home this week and paging through a stolen copy of my high school’s yearbook and wanted to point out the following image:

Alan Tudyk is pretty cool and is from Firefly and and more importantly, plays a cult leader in two episodes of Strangers with Candy, alongside fellow PSHS alum Jeremy Schwartz, who is also a totally awesome actor person.

Alan Tudyk never hung out with me, but that’s ok.  Hardly anyone did, possibly because I had an earring I made out of a rosary and a lock of my boyfriend Chris’  (last name redacted) hair. Maybe it was because everything I am wearing I got from yard sales, and wore when we took pictures in August in Texas. Perhaps it was because I was identifying with Andie from Pretty in Pink so much that I drove a Kharmann Ghia that was constantly vandalized because I had a KEEP ABORTION LEGAL sticker on it in North Texas.  Who knows?

Very Gothixxx Halloween

Gothixxx were glad to welcome the lovely Dave and Jenn Bats of Release the Bats fame to the program, as well as guest cameraman Derrick Lemos.

California Costumes Stole Me!

I have been immortalized, in cheap wig form, as a blind pop star of some sort.

It has come to my attention that I have been immortalized, in cheap wig form, by the good people at California Costumes.  Now, I don’t know when I became a blind pop star, but evidently that’s my overall look.  These people owe me royalties and I’m going to sit right here on my couch until I get them.

Drunken Tales!

Here is the handsome buffalo that watches over everyone as they talk about puking their guts out at the Monty Bar.

Dear Everyone;

The talented genius Mike O’Connell asked me to tell a story of drunken excess at his wonderful show, Drunken Tales of Glory and Shame, at the Monty Bar, and I’ve already written it and everything, so here it is.

Mom, don’t read it!

Ladies and gentlemen, you are experts in this field, and I’m not gonna bore you with regular old drinking stories, like the time I woke up in a shed in Dallas, TX wearing striped tights and a strange man’s suit jacket, or the first time I puked, or the second time I puked, or the first time I puked in my 30’s and said to myself, hey self, this is not cute anymore –or the first time I cracked a fresh Zima in a friend’s kitchen at a house party and wondered where the fuck everyone was and realized that the sun was coming up and it was time to go home. I can tell you that as I get older, I can’t drink the way I used to, because now, I have to use my mouth.

Like most of you, I grew up Mormon in a family of Irish Catholic alcoholics and my grandfather died of alcohol-derived cirrhosis at 44 years old. My other grandpa died of a heart attack at the ripe old age of 52. And we all thought, That was a LIFE lived, man. When people my age are all broken up about their grandparents dying, I like to ask, your grandparents are in their eighties? What are they, pussies? So, until I was 21, I didn’t drink at all, but I did drugs, because nobody in my family had a drug problem. You can see the wisdom. Standing before you now, I am half made of acid. Probably the lower half.

So in this story, I was in my 20’s, and I had a first date with a really special guy, who was tall and could play guitar and looked like Douglas Coupland, an author who is no longer famous.

The night I fell in love with him was when a group of us went to New Orleans and got rip roaring drunk, and were slowly making our way back to the hotel. Our friend Steve was with us, and Steve both loves a drink and walks with a cane, due to Cerebral Palsy, and he found that he had had too many drinks to walk at all, so we decided that the only thing to do was to heave him onto my swain’s back and he would be piggybacked to our beds. The big man knelt down and Steve was trying to clamber on top, and he made such a grunting and a noise in the French Quarter that a resident yelled out a window, “I don’t care what you faggots do, but don’t do it in the street!” and that was it. I was in love.

I was nervous to go on a date with him on my own,  so my best friend and I decided we would throw a party, and we decided to take GHB, because we heard it was rad. In the 90’s, people would take GHB and Rohypnol on purpose, just because they were bored, or a new episode of Friends wouldn’t be out for another week, or they couldn’t wait for a new Diet Coke flavor. They were both legal at the time- GHB was legal until 2000, when a 19 year old died of an overdose. Small doses of GHB is sometimes referred to as liquid ecstasy, due to its tendency to produce euphoria and sociability, Despite this nickname, GHB or Gammabutyrolactone,has separate chemicals than Ecstacy, or Methylenedioximethamphetamine, but can produce the same effect in SMALL amounts. Small ones.

The really great thing about GHB was that it inhibits metabolizing alcohol, so once you’re drunk, you stay drunk for a really long time and you don’t sober up, and we all know that that’s a great idea! We got enough for four doses, because four of us wanted to take it. However, when push came to shove, in a carpeted living room, my date and one of the other girls chickened out, and the one thing you should know about me is that I don’t like to waste, so my best friend and I split the dose.

I did not know then that even a slightly larger dose of GHB is used to treat insomnia and narcolepsy and is a potent depressant. Then, I laid down to rest awhile and passed out cold and covered in sweat on the floor for three hours and listened to the two remaining undrugged people awkwardly watch six episodes of South Park.

When I woke up, I realized I had to puke, so I very classily on my first date walked down the hallway, steadying myself on the wall with my shoulder, and knocked on the bathroom door only to realize my best friend was already puking in the bathroom. It’s that kind of connection and sympatico feeling that keeps our friendship strong. On Facebook. So, I cleverly went outside to puke over the side of the balcony onto a teal Dodge neon in the parking lot and I felt much better, and rested my hot forehead on the wooden plank of the balcony, and later found a large splinter in my forehead .

After that, I brushed my teeth and we went out to a gay bar in walking distance of the house and drank crappy bottled beer until closing time, and so then I was drunk until 2pm on Sunday, and having proved myself to be smart and have to have good planning skills, I dated the boy for a year and a half, before he married someone just like me but a little shorter and not as crazy, and they had beautiful twin girls and I moved to Los Angeles and stopped mixing my drugs and drinks, for the most part. The end!

                  Selfie as Edward Scissorhands at the Monty Bar

                         Names have been changed to protect the drunk.  Objects may be closer than they appear.

Let’s Get Pink!

    I am an old-school goth and I color my own hair.    After spreading my amazing wisdom with a friend today, I thought, what if I was hit by a bus tomorrow, and this wisdom is lost to the ages?  So here’s tips on weird hair color.

Buy bleach, creme developer (stays put better than liquid, 20 for darker colors, 30 for lighter), a plastic bowl and a little brush, gloves, tinfoil, and SPECIAL EFFECTS color.  NOT Manic Panic.  You might have to order it on the computer if you don’t wanna go to a lot of goth stores or headshops, but believe me.   It’s worth it.  It’s a lot longer lasting.  Some of them glow under black light!

The above brands of vegetable dye are cruelty-free.  Vegan bleaches are by Manic Panic (I KNOW I SAID THAT BUT THAT WAS JUST FOR THE COLOR) and N’Rage (both available at Sally’s Beauty Supply, where you can also get nail charms and Kolesteral.)

For allover color, do the following:

1. Make sure you’re not yet 30.   You know that scene in the movie where a guy runs up to a girl with cute punky pink hair, and he touches her shoulder, and she turns around and she’s 50 and everybody GASPS?  You don’t want that.

2.  Bleach your hair all over, and in general, do the below but everywhere.  The directions below are specifically for spot color.

Start with clean-ish hair.  If you’ve got a lotta junk in your hair, wash and dry first.

1. Work out what you want colored.  Comb around and pick out a section.  Pin everything else back.  Put conditioner where you don’t want to bleach.
2. Bleach your desired area(s) and wrap it/them in tinfoil.  If you need a really light shade, throw a hair dryer on it for a minute, or until your head gets hot and you can’t stand it.
3. Watch one episode of 30 rock without commercials.  Check your hair.  If you are going for a really LIGHT color, you’ll need to use a HIGHER VOLUME DEVELOPER (30/40) and you’ll need to process LONGER.  Manic Panic’s Cotton Candy Pink particularly won’t do SHIT until you are PAPER WHITE.  DON’T ASK ME HOW I KNOW.  If you’re using a darker color, you don’t need to bleach out white to get the color to grab.  Yellow/blonde will be fine.

4. GODDAMNIT, I TOLD YOU NOT TO USE MANIC PANIC.  A note on color:  PURPLES, DARK REDS, PINKS are GREAT for longevity and for fading down to attractive colors.  BLUES and GREENS tend to slip early, and not to nice colors, they get a little sickly.  You’re the boss of it, but you’ll need to touch up more often with the cool/blue tones.  There is a BLACK MANIC PANIC, but you’d have to be a crazy person to use a no-lift BLACK when you can do Henna BLACK or regular chemical SUPERMAN BLACK?  What, you want to rub off on your sheets?  Do you hate your Mom?

Good.  I hate her too.

A real Goth will have dark sheets and towels because of our hair.  But if something happens and you’re bleeding out, it might take you a little while to tell.

5. Wash your hair and dry it, bone dry.  Really dry.  If your regular hair is light, you might comb conditioner into the immediate areas you don’t want to color.  If it’s near your hairline, smear some vaseline on the hairline to keep it from turning colors.

6. Wear gloves for this part.  Nobody wants to shake your weird purple hand.  You’re already an outcast.

7. Brush dye onto the bleachy part, use one of them little brushes from Sally’s, comb it through, get it good and saturated.  Wrap it in tinfoil.  Put a showercap or plastic cap on.

And now we come to The Part that separates the girls from the women.  This is The Secret.  The package will tell you to process with hot dryer for 30 minutes and wash out. 

This is bullshit. 

It will not give you the eye-popping, long-lasting saturation that makes people wonder “is that a wig?”

8. Sleep in it.  I put a plastic cap, then a do-rag or gypsy scarf or whatever on and go to bed, and wash it out in the morning.  The color dye is vegetable dye and will not damage your hair, it has no lift of its own (which is why you bleach separately), and I sleep in it, and it pretty much stays pink until it grows out.  And then I do the same thing eight weeks later, except concentrating on the new hair with the bleach!

Yayyyy!

Tommy’s Showgirl

Well, in every Halloween career there are setbacks.

I love the Who, and I love their rock opera Tommy, and I love the over-the-top 1975 film by Ken Russell, who passed away a year ago in November.  After last year’s somewhat involved costume, I thought, I’ll take a year off and do something simple:  Showgirl in a Gasmask from the opening overture in Tommy. 

The showgirls picking their way through the rubble of the Blitz were based on a memory of Russell’s from his childhood.  Getting a period-appropriate civil issue UK gasmask was easy, and when I found a rhinestone bikini while in San Diego for Comic-Con, that seemed like a “gimme.”  I bought a nude bodysuit to wear underneath and considered myself ready to go. 

I put my gear on and headed to a party on Friday, and didn’t realize until I had left the house that, bodysuit or no bodysuit, I was pretty much naked.  Much more naked than I had thought I would be,  in my mind.   Don’t get me wrong.  Naked at a party is popular.  Everyone wanted a picture with the naked lady in a gasmask.

  Everyone has a different threshhold for public nudity, but I was raised Mormon and I still have some personal boundaries-  So, I went home, took some photos to document, and am retiring this beast. 

DSC_0177

In the end, I had to have a costume for work (and one of my employees dressed as me, which was in turns adorable and insulting), and so I went for Sweet Jayne Mansfield. Her head’s off, so she stuck it back on with medical tape, and she put a necklace on over it so you can’t tell, but people can still kind of tell.

jayne

Gothixxx Portraiture

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Gothixxx’s friend Evan Ballinger shot this candid of Bloodmeadow and Helfire sharing a moment of togetherness.