(1) In 1996 I got egged. A drive-by egging is funny if it's in the lyrics to a Beastie Boys song, not so much if it's against your chest and you then have to pick egg shell out of your drunk girlfriend's hair while she's slumped on the floor of your dormitory bathroom. Important note: that shit not only humiliates, but at that speed hurts, too.
(2) Expectations too high, ambition/resources too low. I never care enough about getting a costume until it's basically too late, and then I'm not satisfied with something slapdash. The only Halloween I remember liking was one [1986] where I had this amazing werewolf mask that went over my whole head and down under the shirt like a dickey so that it looked like I really was a werewolf! Oh, and when I was a really little kid [1982, say?] my grandmother made me this Superman costume that was top notch, so it looked like I really was Superman! (Or, you know, Superboy!) That's the thing: you've got to look like you really are something. Going somewhere in a half-assed costume is worse, in my mind, than no costume at all. This is one of those situations where trying and failing is actually not better than not trying at all...because when you try and fail, what you look like you really are is a doofus.
All this would be fine if I were rich and could just invest in a fucking full-body Star Wars stormtrooper suit or something,* but as is I find myself having to choose between a crappy $30 "mullet" wig or an Indiana Jones costume that looks like it's made out of garbage bags (and actually has "Indiana Jones" written all over it, which last I checked Indiana Jones didn't have written on his clothes since his summers at archæology camp)—and that shit costs $60, without the whip! I worry about buying a single shirt for real life, for daily (well, weekly) use; how am I supposed to feel about buying clothes for one night? Last year I went as Cameron Frye, and the main feedback I got was Cro-Magnons on the street saying, "Really, man? The fuckin' Red Wings?" And that stupid jersey cost almost $100!
Speaking of which, you think Christmas is corporatized? Halloween is basically only about shopping. You don't even have the giving–receiving part as an excuse. Sure, some people figure out a way to do it for free, but those people probably make presents for Christmas, too. (You know: creative, resourceful people—the fuckers!) So I'm like, "Well, I could spend $70 on this Freddy Krueger glove...but I am getting poorer & poorer these days, not richer, so why the hell should I have to spend that kind of money just to go to one party?" I mean, if somebody said, "Hey, come to my party, it costs $70," odds are I'd say sorry but no.
So basically no costume for Short Round.
(3) Finally, given that, I think it's rude to go to a costume party not in costume... like, "Yeah, I don't really give a shit what kind of party you're having, fuck you." It's not so much that I care what other people think of me: it's more that... Well, no, it is that I care what other people think of me. If I were in costume at a costume party and saw some dude standing there in his fucking civvies, like, "Hey, what's up," I would think to myself, "What a douchebag." And then I'd egg him.
To sum up, I am (1) fearful, (2) cheap & uncreative, and (3) paranoid.
Here at Alt85, we attack ourselves first—so you don't have to!™
(Oh, man, I should have gone as a sexy Ghostbuster! Next year.)
* This year I came close to buying a Boba Fett helmet that I would've worn with a nice suit, like formal clothes for people not in costume (the humor of absurd incongruity, get it?), but it didn't fit right and I couldn't see out of it; plus the helmet wasn't as cool as it looked from a distance and cost $90, which is about $75 more than the idea was worth—and that's if we're being generous.
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