My out-of-town friends are always saying that they’re jealous that Pittsburgh has so many zombie-centric events during the year (we are the Zombie Capital of the World, you know; fuck that Atlanta nonsense). So when I get invited to these things on Facebook, I try to go to as many as I can to support the cause. (The zombie cause and also the jealous friends cause.)
Henry was on the fence when I told him about the Eat Your Heart Out Heart Valentine charity event that was happening at the Oakmont Tavern last Saturday night. Henry doesn’t mind going to the family-friendly things because really, it’s Chooch who’s into zombies the most and he really enjoys getting made up. So then we’re just his plain-faced handlers. But this time it was at a BAR with GROWNUPS and Henry is a big dumb SQUARE who doesn’t like going out past 8pm and knocking a few back. But then I convinced Laura and Mike to go too and Henry felt a little better knowing that he and Mike could stand around being humans together while Laura and I got fake blood and decay all over our shot glasses.
Still, I waited all day for him to use the snowy weather as an excuse, but he didn’t! We actually went out to a real life bar and ran the risk of getting stabbed or, oh my god, having a good time!
Henry, after I pointed out he unwittingly dressed as Freddy Krueger, whose name I consistently spell wrong.
Laura went as a military zombie, complete with camis and dog tag. She was really wound up about her makeup, like, “Where should I put the blood!?” and I was all, “Anywhere you want! Who cares! Have you seen my makeup?” Seriously, I’m OK when I’m doing Chooch’s makeup, but once I do my own, I just look like a battered woman. The best part is when all my makeup starts to slide down my face after about an hour because my skin is so oily. (Clearly, I need to order some become products!)
I was going to make Henry go into the bar first because we arrived right around the time the party was starting and I was adamant about not being the first zombie to arrive. But as soon as we got to the door, a girl in full-on prosthetics arrived and went in before us, so we rode her coattails.
They had all the zombies relegated to the upstairs bar, which was extremely small, but cozy. Like a crypt. So it made sense. The first thing we did though was purchase raffle tickets, the proceeds of which went toward saving the Evans City Chapel, which as some might know is part of Night of the Living Dead history.
Here are some pictures of Chooch and Andrea chilling in front of the chapel last September:
Anyway, as Henry was buying raffle tickets, it dawned on me that I knew the lady ripping tickets off the roll for him.
“I know you,” I said, in a faux-accusatory tone.
She looked slightly apprehensive, and I’m sure it had nothing to do with me coming off as a sleazy used car salesman.
“We went on a ghost hunt together last year,” I said. “Broughton Elementary School?” I’m not sure if she really did remember me (although I was convinced she didn’t like me because my stomach kept growling during the EVP session we did together and she didn’t look pleased) but she still stood up and gave me a big hug. She briefly told me about some haunts she’s been on since then, and then I focused on arbitrarily picking buckets in which to stick my raffle tickets.
I then had to explain to Henry 27 times how I knew her.
“I CHEATED ON YOU WITH HER, OK!?” God, Henry. Step off.
Anyway, the raffle drawing wasn’t until midnight, so Mr. I Don’t Want To Be Here sealed his fate with that one.
(Staying out past midnight, CAN YOU IMAGINE.)
Shaun of the Dead and the back of a bride.
Ended up seeing Ghost Hunter Chris’s husband Joel inside the bar; I didn’t get a chance to say hello to him, but I did learn that he’s the one who took the photographs that are on the Fix the Chapel website. I always see people I know at these things and it makes me realize just how small and awesome that scene is.
Elfen Zombie? I don’t know. Laura kept going on about how attractive she was, though.
Here you will observe Pete the bartender concocting our Bloody Brains, which I wanted more of but Henry frowned his answer at me. I drank way more than I intended to and I’m pretty sure I was annoying Mike and Henry and everyone else around us who were not as drunk as me.
Pete found out about Whitney Houston’s death after we did and was very concerned about it. I think I was going to console him, but I got distracted by ordering another drink.
I almost died (again?) when I turned around and saw a zombie Robert Smith behind me! I told him he was my favorite, like he was legitimately Robert Smith, and I didn’t even feel stupid for it because I was drunk.
Now I feel stupid for it.
No, I don’t.
Henry’s eating World Famous Wings, what does he care!?
Henry Quote of the Night: “I really hope the blood on the bathroom sink was fake.”
You know what I love about the zombie scene? The people are so fucking decent. Seriously, we never run into assholes at these events. And we’re not even really a part of the scene! It’s like everything else, I’m hovering in the periphery.
I remember last year when I was getting ready to meet my now-friend Kristy at a zombie self-defense course, I was texting Andrea about being nervous.
“Yeah but she likes zombies, and that’s a good indication that she’s going to be fine. People who are into zombies somehow end up being the normal ones,” Andrea advised.
And she was right. Kristy is awesome.
And everyone there that night was awesome and sweet to me when I tapped on their backs like a 6-year-old wanting Richard Simmons’s autograph. (What? That’s whose autograph I would have wanted when I was 6.)
I hate beer, but I kept tasting every one that Henry ordered, which was really irritating him. Apparently, I might kind of like Blue Moon a little bit. Or I was just that drunk.
I commented that I hadn’t seen the proprietor of Monroeville Zombies all night. His name is Kevin and although we have never spoken in person, he’s the one who invites me to all these events. (Most of the ones we go to are even organized by him as well, but this one was not.) And that at one point, Henry was all, “OMG Robert Smith is Kevin!” So there — I have officially spoken to Kevin of Monroeville Zombie fame.
Henry and Mike were totally infatuated with this guy. God, start a fan club already, amirite.
I promised Laura I would get a picture of the bullethole guy for her and I REMAINED TRUE TO MY WORD BECAUSE I AM A FRIEND-PERSON.
I was in line for the bathroom (I had to go so fucking bad) when someone announced that it was time for the raffle. Henry held up my coat and phone and waved me over to him. I did the universal jig for “Unless you want to smell my urine-soaked panties the whole way home in the car, you best let me keep my spot in line.” But he was all urgently gesticulating for me to follow them downstairs like I’m his goddamn mail order bride or some shit. I was so pissed. Almost literally.
So I get to the bottom of the steps and it’s so congested down there with zombies shambling around in a raffle number-stupor that I physically can’t go anywhere else. I shoved my coat into Henry’s arms and stomped back upstairs where the bride was about to enter the restroom but must have noticed that I was at this point bent over with my fist in my crotch, so she very graciously let me go ahead of her.
See? Zombie fanatics are decent people!
Snooki should have this made into booty shorts at the Shore Store next summer.
We did not win anything for the raffle. Some girl who went into the mens room and peed on top of the collection of pee that Henry kept telling us about all night won something though, and she was very excited about it. Winning, not peeing in the mens room, although maybe that too.
Saved this guy for last because he was my favorite. This picture doesn’t do it justice but he had a cockroach sticking out of one side and fingernails stuck in the other side of his face. He said it took him over two hours.
You know how long it took me? 5 minutes. Always making an effort, I am!
Jesus, it was such a good night. Laura and I were pretty wasted and I don’t think we ever stopped laughing (except maybe when we heard that Whitney Houston had died but then I remembered that I didn’t really care). I want to do more to help so I’m making some new Historical Zombie note cards, the proceeds of which will go the chapel. I’m a sucker for preserving shit. Just not literally shit. I already have an MLK Jr and Abe Lincoln done – just need to make the time to do three more and then I will debut them on here for hopefully someone to care about it.No tags for this post.