My brother Corey and I first visited Trundle Manor in September of 2010* and it was one of the most culturally and intellectually fulfilling nights I had had in quite awhile. (I live with Henry full-time, remember.) The residents, Anton and Rachel (aka Mr.ARM and Velda, respectively) were gracious and charming hosts who didn’t make Corey and I feel like Abercrombie nerds; instead, they recognized our inner weirdness and made us feel at home.
(* For real, read that post—their residence is amazing.)
Since then, their incredible home collection has gotten a ton of press, culminating with a spot on MTV’s Extreme Cribs a few months ago.
So when I got the invitation to their Halloween party, there was no way I was declining. I’m still filled with regret for missing last year’s, all because I couldn’t get anyone to go with me. (Lamest reason ever, but we all know I’m the modern poster girl for “square.” Except that I’m so round.) This time, I asked my friend Wendy right away if she wanted to go and she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. We spent the next month giddily talking about what to wear and bragging about it to our co-workers who just looked at us blankly. (Except for Barb, who was excited! I wish she would have come with us.)
We settled on zombie housewives. Being a housewife is a huge stretch for me, so I really had to use my imagination. I basically just wore my Perdoozy sugar skull apron over top of an old black chiffon-ish dress I found at Goodwill; I carried around a bloody pie serving thing because Henry said we didn’t have an egg beater, which is originally what I wanted so thanks for defecating on my vision, Henry.
(How the fuck does the Kitchen King not have an egg beater? And not even a wooden spoon?! Best get thyself to Williams-Sonoma, ye culinary poser.)
Wendy also wore an apron, but she bloodied hers up (my one caveat was that I didn’t want to fuck up my apron; I really like that thing!) and tucked a duster into it, which party-goers kept mistaking for some small, furry pet that she couldn’t leave home without.
As soon as we arrived, we met Angie, who had come alone and didn’t know anyone else there. She was really awesome, had on a lovely homemade gown and flashed scary-sharp fangs every time she smiled. She also happened to be knowledgeable about absinthe, which Anton was serving straight from a fountain. As he extended a plastic wine glass full of the Listerine-tinted poison, I was transported back to that nightmarish after-work happy hour at Meat and Potatoes, where I battled a glass of absinthe and had my stomach punched by anise-flavored fists.
This stuff was not bad at all, though, and I somehow drained my glass well before Angie and Wendy, because that’s how classy I drink.
Wendy, being a creeper.
Meeting Olivia’s tumor again. (Seriously, it’s a real tumor from their belly dancer friend, Olivia. Don’t worry, she’s still alive.)
There were a lot of steampunk people there, some had come as far as Chicago and Canada. I love steampunk, but as usual, it’s yet another scene of which I’m only on the periphery. I had a massive, instantaneous crush on one of them, but we were all pretty sure he was gay. That didn’t stop me from photo-stalking him all night until Wendy finally had enough and started talking to him. His name is Matthew and he is so fucking adorable. Oh my god.
Rachel always looks amazing, Halloween party or not.
They had tons of carnival food there, like popcorn, funnel cake, fried Oreos, and corn dogs that Anton really wanted people to eat.
There were some amazing costumes there, not that I was surprised. There was a particularly dudded-up pirate whose way I kept getting in everywhere I went. He nearly sideswiped me with his obnoxiously-girthed hat at one point and I was beginning to think he hated me and my bulky presence in and around doorways. I think it was the squinty glare that gave it away.
The back of my steampunk boyfriend.
Random Trundle Manor decor that makes the demented interior designer in me salivate. Their house is literally the structural version of what my dreams are made of.
Henry would never agree to a couples costume. He’s so fucking lame. Wendy pointed out one guy that she thought was dressed as Henry, if he were a hipster who wore corduroy blazers and Converse.
Here’s Anton on the roof during a merry performance by the Bloody Seamen, who tossed gold coins to the crowd before getting shut down by the cops. Of course the bloodiest of the seamen—the singer—was the same pirate whose path I repeatedly obstructed throughout the night. Sorry, dude. Good show!
Wendy standing by the hobo fire while the Bloody Seamen performed behind her in a small circus tent.
Another co-worker from The Law Firm—Patty—is friends with Anton and Rachel, so we hung out with her and her fiance sporadically. And one of her friends gave me a cigarette, which made Henry immediately sniff and wrinkle his nose when I came home later that night.
We did not look like housewives at all. The only thing that made me feel better about our costumes was the fact that some people weren’t wearing costumes at all. At least we were better than those people.
OMG IT’S MATTHEW HI MATTHEW YOU’RE SO ADORABLE LET’S MAKE OUT BY SOME DEAD THINGS IN JARS.
Three of my new Castle Blood friends arrived around 10 so it actually appeared that Wendy and I were perhaps part of a crew.
We happened to be standing near a table at the exact moment new party goers arrived with a giant baker’s box of cupcakes. You best believe my paws were in that box snatching a pumpkin variety like Snooki dislodging an errant condom from her kooka.
“I’m so happy we were standing here when that happened,” I murmured around a giant mouthful, having one of my signature sugar orgasms. My face didn’t get this fat by itself, you know.
God only knows what went on while I was eating that. I had completely peaced out from all conversation until the last bite was swallowed. Patty felt remorse because she didn’t have a chance to take a picture of this happening, and suggested that I go back for another.
“You can just hold it and put it back,” she said.
I declined; this broad doesn’t have that kind of willpower. Putting a cupcake in my hand and then taking it away? That’s like pretending you’re going to untack Christ from the cross, only to say, “HAHA. J/K!” while driving in an extra nail. WHY YOU WANNA HURT ME LIKE THAT, PATTY?
OMG Matthew playing DJ: he just got infinitely more hottererer.
Props to this old school robot costume. I wish I had let my mom get old school Halloween Costume Mom on me for this party, because then I could have been intentionally awkward. But that would have required me actually speaking to my mom. So…
Wendy, creepily eating a corn dog. I think this was after she was traumatized by two pirates nearly fucking in front of her while waiting in line for the bathroom. She said that when the girl pirate went to walk away, the boy pirate pulled her back and said, “Bring your pussy over here; I want your pussy near me at all times.” Naturally, this became the catchphrase of the night.
This was Dawn’s first-ever corndog! She and Angie had to de-fang in order to partake.
Later on, Dawn emerged from the house and said that the game room was empty, so we moved our shivering caravan into the house and upstairs, where we got to continue our conversation with the Castle Blood denizens sans chattering teeth.
God, it’s not even possible to encapsulate in words how amazing that night was. Everything from the food, drink (fuck, I drank so much Everclear), music, people and conversation was just perfect. Trundle Manor throws the best party in town and I hope I get to go back next year.
The next morning, Chooch told me that my hair smelled like cat puke. I would say that’s a sign that the night was a success.
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