Well last night was a whole bowl of crazy. I was the closer at the restaurant, and the thing about upstairs patrons is that as snobby and as well-versed as they are in fine wines and delicate food, they're very gung-ho when it comes to Halloweening and rocking out. I'm not sure what I went as. I had this pleated skirt and black and white stripey socks and boots and painted-on scars like Salley from nightmare before Christmas and my hair in pigtails and dramatic eyes completely lacking in subtlety that I blame on Marci. It was fun. It was Halloween. The place was packed with people, everyone dancing (and drinking) and patrons and staff were dressed up as well which was nice because it meant the night lacked that intense formality that makes working there so exhausting sometimes: there was a dj, there was candy everywhere (and it totally wasn't a big deal), there was a pretty great pre fixe that finished with a devils food cake cupcake covered in so much buttercream that it was actually the size of my head (and that wasn't a big deal either). Nothing can be a big deal when your bartender is a giant telletubby and your waitstaff consists of a hippy, a zebra, a paper boy, a pirate lady, a matadore, and me, the chicest dead girl you've ever seen. Hopefully someone will send me some pictures of everyone.
My favorite part of the night happened before we'd even opened the doors yet, whem Maggie grabbed me by the hand and said "okay I need you to do my Zebra makeup". I followed her upstairs, we went to the handicapped bathroom, she got out all her white and black face paint, and slowly by slowly, I made her a Zebra. It's an odd thing when you're painting someone's face or doming somebody else's makeup or plucking someone's eyebrows...first of all when those activities go on it becomes a girl sanctuary with no boys allowed and gossip and chatting and whatnot, and I'm not particularly good at any of that. It's kind of a role I've learned to play when needed, but it doesn't come naturally. Also, there's always the awkwardness about physically being so close to someone- you're right in their face, focusing on the details and imperfections of their skin, and I've never fully figured out the rules here: do you pay attention closely to what you're doing or do you make small talk and how do both parties ignore the fact that the other can see every blemish or patch of dry skin on on your face and most importantly what if you do a bad job of what they've asked you to do?! That's damning, right?
I guess it just made me happy because it felt like one of those moments when you're proud to embody the stereotype. My friend had asked me to do her makeup and I did and we giggled through it. That's it. Only it didn't end up being the stereotype that I'm no good at because she was funny and had no expectations of me doing a good job of zebra-ing her and glamor wasn't really the focus here she wasn't awkward at all, in fact it was cool because I didn't feel self conscious about myself and self-deprecating about my makeup talents (which by the way I think I did a damn good job on). I don't know. In reading it back it doesn't seem like a huge deal, and I guess it wasn't, I just liked that she trusted I would do a good job on her face paint, that she would be comfortable with me in the girl sanctuary, and that she thought nothing of grabbing my wrist and saying "lets go". I guess it means she thought of me as a normal person, like a normal girl with friends who was comfortable anywhere, and that felt kinda cool. I aspire to that :)
Anyhow, after the night of waitressing and clean-up and preparation for service tomorrow, by the time I got home my feet were blistered and my makeup was smeared and oogey so I put myself right into the bathtub where I promptly fell asleep for a bit and I woke up with goosebumps and put myself to bed.
It's about half past ten now and I've just woken up, my pillow covered in the face makeup I haven't attacked yet, and I'm starving. So breakfast it is, hopefully accompanied by an episode of Sex and the City if it's on.
That was my Halloween. That means it's November first. Rabbit Rabbit. That means my grad applications are due in a month. Dinosaur Dinosaur.
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