Some of you may not know that I was Chucky this Halloween. Now you do, and you need to know because I’ve decided it means something…I’m not sure what, but maybe we’ll get to that. I wasn’t Chucky because I’m a fan of Child’s Play or Bride of Chucky or the Chucky franchise. It’s just that when you have orange hair, your last minute costume choices are limited. The standards are boring: Madeline, Pippi Longstocking, Peter Pan, Little Red Riding Hood, Lucille Ball, Raggedy Ann. None of those options are very scary or very sexy, which are the two goals for Halloween, right?
Mostly Halloween is about sex. It makes sense that one of the last pagan bacchanlias in Western culture would be sex based. Of course, I was feeling too smart for the whole raunchy tradition. I’d read too many feminist complaints about the holiday. I didn’t want to be sexy cop, sexy nurse, sexy Darth Vader, sexy Watermelon. In the past I’ve slightly eschewed the sexy girl requirement by dressing as my favorite characters, but let’s be honest, dressing as Pris from Blade Runner wasn’t all about my love of the movie. Once I was drunk, I apparently described myself as, “just your basic pleasure model.” This year I would turn things on their head–I would be sexy, cool by being repulsive. Classic reverse psychology. Spin the famous red head dial and that leaves you with Carrot Top, Conan O’Brian or Chucky.
At first I didn’t fully commit. Did I really want to stand out? So I was gonna be Molly Ringwald from The Breakfast Club. I found her exact outfit at Goodwill. However, I didn’t try it on. When I did, I noticed a giant circular stain on the skirt. I was Molly Ringworm. The costume was uncomfortable and unflattering, and by then it was almost party o’clock (11pm). I threw on my overalls and thermal pajama top, most likely intended for chubby twelve year olds, teased my hair and grabbed a kitchen knife. I was Chucky and I was ready to mix and mingle.
Did I mention I’m single? Any night I go out is a night I could possibly meet Mr. Winter of 2011. Maybe we could even last until Spring 2012. I’m a dating cynic which is part of my meeting people problem. Why bother when you think it will end in unreturned phone calls and facebook blocking.
But still, I show up at the first party of the night checking out the gentlemen. Obligatory Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Marty McFly from Back to the Future (the eighties are big at Halloween) and a Hasidic Jew. One guy, dressed as a hippie, recognized me immediately. “Chucky!!”
“I’m glad you knew who I was.” I said, relieved to find out people at least recognized I was in costume.
“Oh yeah, I could definitely tell.”
“Thanks…” Did I really want to obviously look like Chucky? It took me all of two minutes to transform into a demonic doll. That can’t be good.
“Where did you get that shirt?” he asked.
“Oh, I sleep in this.” Yes, it’s this sexy all the time. We moved quickly away from each other. Meanwhile two ladies dressed as Luigi and Mario arrived. When I say they were Mario and Luigi, I mean they were wearing the right colors, gloves and hats but otherwise it was pure pin up. Very high heels and booootie shorts. I had a really hard time not staring. I could see a third of their asses.
So the gentlemen looked elsewhere. A good percentage of the ladies had had traumatic experiences with Chucky as children, so they had a hard time making eye contact with me. Others were put off by the large knife I’d brought. It frightens me that not once did it occur to me that bringing a huge knife to a party would be a bad idea. It was dull-ish, and after all, I’m not really a demonic doll, so I mistakenly thought no one would be threatened.
I left the first party after an hour of moving from one room to the next, trying to look busy. I can only stand social awkwardness for so long, and I know it’s time to go when I start taking frequent bathroom trips, fake text messaging or eating a lot.
People at the second party didn’t recognize me, and they would ask who I was, so I would show them the knife. They would get it, and then they would leave quickly. My friend Julia finally put masking tape on the blade. We stole the masking tape from someone dressed as a famous Banksy piece. I didn’t get it. These people were more sophisticated than me.
I decided to go to the bathroom. It was a big two story old house, and after fumbling around in the dark hall and walking in on a pair dressed as pregnant Beyonce and Jay Z, I found the bathroom and promptly got trapped. There were some fun size Snickers on the sink, so I figured I could last in there for a while. I didn’t have my phone, so I was going to have to alert the partygoers with screams. Would they see this as an innocent mistake or the unhinged-girl-with-a-knife’s cry for help? Things weren’t looking good, and then I managed to pry the door open. I went downstairs, and my friends were ready to go, and like that Halloween came and went.