Luv Doc Recommends: Zombie Ball: The Party To Die For

ACL Live at the Moody Theater, Saturday, October 29, 2011

Luv Doc Recommends: Zombie Ball: The Party To Die For

Put your costume on now. It's go time. It already was last weekend but maybe you didn't get the memo. As of today, however, there's no excuse. Everything is Halloween themed. Don't think so? Even Petco is having a Fur and Fangs Halloween Catstravaganza. You may want to take this rare opportunity to round up all the neighborhood strays, dress them in adorable crocheted pumpkin costumes, and do a drive-by drop and dash. Let the terror begin! Perhaps some local urologist (maybe Dr. Dick Chop?) might want to consider doing a Vasect-o-ween(er) Party. Nothing is scarier that a man in a mask standing over your maximally contracted scrotum with an inch-long anesthetic needle. Boo! The point is that from here on until sometime around 5am the morning after Halloween, you can get away with murder … well, at least fashionwise. Probably the only place you can't safely rock an awesome costume is a mortuary, and really, if that's your gig, it's pretty much Halloween all year round anyway, isn't it? In fact, you can probably show up at a Halloween party in a suit, and when people ask you what you are, you can say, "I'm a mortician," and they will say, "Cool … you totally nailed it." Plus, you can actually be a mortician for the rest of the night and not experience the normal social ostracization to which you're accustomed. Even if you don't spend your days working with the recently departed, Halloween is still a great time to really open up and be the real you. Cross-dresser? No need to go costume shopping, eh? Well, unless there's a really good sale or something. Mime? Hilarious and scary! Doctor, cop, soldier, priest, firefighter, circus clown, Indian chief, biker … Halloween is a slam dunk for anyone whose daily attire would work nicely on a Village People album cover. For the rest of the world, costuming can be a bit stressful. Why? Expectations mostly … your own or someone else's. Making costumes is hard. That's why they give out Oscars for people who are really good at it. It's not just a matter of spending a quiet night at home with a hot glue gun and a box of ostrich feathers. A couple of hours on a throbbing disco dance floor (and if there isn't one, you're probably at a shitty Halloween party) and you'll come undone just like Icarus. Yes, your plunge to Earth may only be metaphorical, but that doesn't mean it will be less painful. Even the classic no-brainer ghost costume requires a certain amount of premeditation. You can't just hack out a couple of eye sockets and a blowhole and call it good. You have to find some way to make sure that once you start moving around, your hand-crafted orifices aren't servicing a different part of your anatomy. Speaking of, one of the primary considerations of the ghost costume is also a difficult existential one as well: commando or no? Sure, it may be tempting to free-ball it all night long – especially in Austin's balmy climes – but some consideration should be paid to the inevitable curiosity of your fellow revelers. It's safe to say that some will want to know what's behind the white curtain enough to actually lift it. Store-bought costumes offer their own challenges – primarily those having to do with ventilation. Remember that wicked awesome ape suit you picked up for a song on Ebay? The one that made you sweat so much that by the end of the night your rubber ape feet were making sloshing noises? Not to mention that for weeks afterward you were coughing up hairballs of synthetic black fur, which, chances are, was made in China by child laborers wearing suits covered in lead dust and weapons-grade plutonium. Party tip: No one wants to fuck the sweat-drenched, synthetic-hairball-hacking occupant of a cheap Chinese ape suit. No one. You could show up at a party in a pair of water-logged Depends and have a better chance at getting laid. Don't try that costume by the way … it takes a monumental amount of game. If you really want to let yourself off the costume hook, dress comfortably – maybe a light-colored velour tracksuit – and then soak yourself in fake blood (or real blood if you have a pig you've been meaning to slaughter). Ta-da! Instant zombie. The cool thing about being a zombie is that you can be a zombie anything: bride, astronaut, bureaucrat, unicyclist, lactation consultant … just let your imagination run wild. If you want to compare notes, head down to ACL Live at the Moody Theater on Saturday for the Zombie Ball, a zombified extravaganza featuring live music (the Bright Light Social Hour), aerialists, burlesque, and a Haunt'd Couture Red Carpet Review (red with blood?!). Plus, you can get your zombie party pic taken by fun folks from the Chronicle. Beats being castrated, doesn't it?

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