Carving Up a Storm and Watchin’ CSI

Posted: October 31st, 2003 | Author: | Filed under: Wishful Thinking | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | No Comments »

Happy All Hallows Eve!

Tonight was all about preparation for the party at ‘Casa del Horror’. I lugged my enormous bag o’ wicca goodies, which weighed about twelve tonnes, out to the west end to avoid carrying it tomorrow when I’m all geared up in my fetching bunny outfit. It shouldn’t have been so heavy, but I persuaded myself that if I was going to trek over my own chalice, athame, and casket of white sage, I might as well bring the altar stone, too. Not to mention any number of tools of divination for the more curious party goers: fortune telling teacup, tarot deck, bag of runes, and a scrying bowl.

It was a great night, and very productive. Four of us ladies spent four hours sitting on the floor, scooping and carving 5 large, 2 medium and 4 small pumpkins. So many guts. So much mess. Ye Gods.

I spent most of the evening feeling particularly medical, performing meticulous surgery on my big orange gourd while parked in front of the telly watching some freaky-assed CSI episode. It involved this weird counter-culture where people get off on wearing plush furry animal costumes. I was completely grossed out by the visuals of the PFA (Plush Furry Animals) convention, and appalled that they went into some detail regarding terminology for the sexual encounters of these freaks.

Appalled, that is, until I realized 1) I am also a counter-culture convention-attending freak, and 2) tomorrow I am dressing up *to go to work* as an enormous pink bunny in a full-body plush suit complete with pink plush mitts to cover my hands, spats to cover my shoes, and a headpiece with ears that leaves only my face exposed to view. I mean, sure, it’s Hallowe’en, but I’ll be traveling on public transit in this getup for goodness’ sake. At that realization, I pretty much went back to carving my pumpkin.

Ah, my pumpkin. A modern masterpiece of jack-o-lantern style. Amy took about a whole roll of film post-carve, so there will be pictures posted here shortly. I tried to think of the scariest face possible, and then at work today it came to me in a flash. Underworld! Kraven! Complete cranial bisection! I sliced my pumpkin in two on a diagonal and carved a horrifying creased vampire face onto it, pupils looking disbelievingly downward at the widening incision that is slowly separating his forehead, eyes and nose from his mouth and chin. It’s hilarious, scary, weird and awesome. I also did a mini-tealight pumpkin, no bigger than my fist, which is a little mini-galaxy of moons and stars.

Alyssa’s piece de resistance was a struggle against the oppression of the traditionally carved pumpkin and it’s slavish adherence to the arrangement of the human visage. A Picasso homage, it involved many oddly sized and cubist facial features migrating to new and different areas of the head. She also did a number of smaller pumpkins, usually involving the ‘boo!’ round eyes and mouth concept, which were truly adorable.

Amy got out the big guns, and tackled the two gigantic mofos with great aplomb. She turned the tall, lanky gourd into a street sign indicating the house number; while the round, portly gourd became a monster whose gaping maw gapes so gapingly that you can actually see its TONSILS. Fabulous.

Christie departed from her usual role as Designated Scooper and Cheering Squad, and produced several menacing vegetable creations of her own. The big project was a fellow I like to call “the greasy Mexican” in honour of my long-lost friend Gustavo. It has a jaunty chapeau and a long, curvaceous moustachio that flickers greasily with the light of its internal flameio. Her tiny pumpkin (or ‘pumpster’, as they are colloquially known) was more of a psychological piece. It features an “X” on one side and a “Y” on the other, in a nod to chromosomal labelling. Reflective of the inner horror of studying for the MCAT, it can be interpreted on a deeper level as exploring the horrors that women have suffered through the ages at the hands of the male of the species. Deceptively simplistic in its execution, this is truly the most scary pumpkin of all.

Time to get to bed, although I’m sure I won’t get to sleep for ages yet. I am one excited little witch right now! Hurrah for Samhain!!!

Pre-Boarding: How the NY Weekend Began

Posted: September 16th, 2003 | Author: | Filed under: Wishful Thinking | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | No Comments » Get your ow n diary at DiaryLand.com! contact me older entries newest entry

(Saturday and Sunday entries will be posted in a few more hours, with photos! Sorry about the wait, I caught some sort of cold in NY and I feel woozy and icky.)

First, to catch up, I’ll have to backtrack to Thursday night. That’s when the madness really began. Christie called at quarter to seven, sounding as though she’d pretty much given up on life, since she’d experienced a hellish day at work, that was quickly devolving into a hellish evening at work. She wanted martinis at Blur, and she wanted lots of them, pronto. I zipped over to meet her as quickly as I could, bringing Ed and Jamie as cheering squad. We proceeded to soothe her troubled brow by mocking her cooking skills.

I must admit (and never let it be said that I casually or without good reason talk shit about my mates) she has mad skillz, but not so much with the cooking. I believe the phrase “Ah, spaghetti! Incense for the poor,” nicely summarizes a recent attempt on the part of my beloved girlfriend to combine Italian and Cajun cuisine by actually setting spaghetti on fire. This, following closely on the heels of a spectacular experiment involving microwave popcorn in an innovative Emeril-styled melted plastic sauce, which I will refrain from narrating to protect the dignity of the innocent. But I think I’ve proved my point.

The bar hopping continued down to Sneaky Dees and then over to the Free Times Café, at which point we remembered that it wasn’t actually Friday yet. Oops.

Estimated hours of sleep on Thursday: 5.5 —- Inebriation level: high

Friday night was Dr. Darcy’s housewarming. Our genial host made it different from your boring, run of the mill housewarmings by actually assembling large sections of his house before our very eyes, including his stereo and light fixtures. There was, of course, a large crew from the chemistry department there, and a number of University College alumni. The UC kids exhibited their smarts by migrating out onto the freaky “shimmy-shimmy shake” sixteenth floor balcony, which conveniently overlooks a large cemetery near the DVP. Darcy grimly pointed out that it was a very “no fuss, no muss” set-up if anyone got a little too drunk and decided they could fly. At that point I decided to abstain from the booze and retreat back inside.

Also at the party was my friend Dr. Aly. Now, I’m no hagiographer, but it seems to me this guy should be shortlisted for sainthood. We got to talking about our coming weekends, and I mentioned I was taking an early flight to New York the next day. He asked how I was getting there, and I told him that due to budgetary constraints I was planning on going home to pack, then taking public transport to the airport before it stopped running, then sleeping in terminal 2 until check-in at 5am. He offered to give me a lift. I mentioned this would mean driving at 4:30am. He shrugged his shoulders and said he’d call when he left the party.

After picking me up at my front door and letting me nap in the passenger seat on the way to his house, he then went WAY above and beyond the call and served me a three-course dinner at 3am (I’m not even making this up), let me have another nap while he stayed awake drinking Diet Coke and studying for his med school exams, and finally drove me to Pearson on the silent, empty highway at the ass-crack of dawn.
I wish to go on record as saying, Aly rocks the mostest.

Estimated hours of sleep on Thursday: 2.5 —- Inebriation level: medium

On to New York…

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