Here I sit, stockings off, hair flattened, feet tired after a long an enjoyable Halloween Eve.

It started kind of late for Leah and I. We furiously shaved, blow-dried, styled and dressed for our Halloween evening; a largely ambiguous evening. What would be going on at the Magic Stick? Would there be cover? We didn't know. All we knew was, there would be no candy-handing-out for us. A night on the town!

I will let Leah show you her pictures if she wishes, but here is what I left the house looking like:

Thank you John for buying me that boa on a whim!

We walked the arduous trip to the Magic Stick, which was nearly uneventful. Leah, being a stronger person (mentally) than I, was slapped on the ass by a stranger. All she did was say, "HEY! ASSHOLE!" and kept walking. Very impressive sounding smack, we admitted later.

Inside the Stick was business as usual. Hipsters. In costumes. A viking, a girl with a skirt made out of playing cards, some monsters. We stood around awhile, until a hulking piece of junk in the middle of the floor caught our eye. There, fashioned out of cardboard, garbage bags and Visqueen, was "THE HAUNTED TUBE". Yes people, this hip indie bar had a haunted house...oops...sorry..."THE HAUNTED TOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBBE!" Lots of terrible noise ensued before they allowed us, the costumed hipsters, to enter the TOOOOOOOOBE. A creaky half ass door was opened, and there at about crotch height was the entrance, which I, in dress, clamored into. I dare not think what the people behind me saw, as I was wearing a garter belt three sizes too small and the tops of my legs looked like risen pizza dough.

I suppressed my claustrophobia for the sake of the TOOOOOOOOOOBE. Basically it was a maze made of cardboard that was completely dark that you had to crawl on your hands and knees through. Hands groped you the whole way. And ridiculous contrite screams assaulted you on your climb. I, of course was laughing like a complete maniac the whole time. Frankly, I heart THE HAUNTED TOOOOOOOOOOBE.

After that, we went to the Bronx, home of the Bar Slut Hair Cut. I wish I had enough energy left to tell this story. Perhaps tomorrow. Just know that I had a good Halloween, and for the first time, a non-creepy stranger bought me a drink.