Amanda Waller in the House

Happy post-Halloween! I’m increasingly sure that official trick-or-treating got moved to a night other than the 31st, because not one childish soul came to my door last night.

Greg heard a rumor that it might have been Saturday, which sucks for them. I was out having a blast.

A colleague/friend pleaded for me to come out to Sidelines and partake in the comic superhero costuming. I’m not so much on the comics (or the superheros), so I was kinda at a loss, because I was definitely not rocking a body suit or bikini. Greg suggested several folks including Amanda Waller, and I opted for a Pam Grier-esque version, since I don’t have a lab coat like this one.

Greg showed off his GIMP-fu by crafting up an appropriate nametag for me, because really, a chick in a suit? I coulda been anybody.

It was suitably awesome for something short-notice, and the ladies I was with (one was dressed as The Question, our designated driver was rocking a cape, and the third was military fatigue-ish) were all dressed to impress. The Question had been a pool shark when she was younger, and proceeded to teach us how to play. Since I started from a position of missing the cue ball regularly, I have to say I did pretty good at learning. I hit a few into the pockets, only missed the cue ball once or twice, and never shot the ball off the table, as one of our party did.

Nothing quite like standing and sipping a drink and seeing a cue ball fly past your knees.

So what does my colleague say when he sees my costume?

“Geez, Greg could have at least gone beyond Smallville.”

I figure he just wanted to look witty in front of his friends (which included a new boyfriend), because he kept trying to school me on various comic book trivia as well. Except now he’s a bully who picks on Halloween costumes and takes away creative ownership. Handily done.

Anyway, me and mine–already nearly the only women in the bar–left to partake in a bit of dancing. We got there early enough (and only two of the three of us left would dance) that the dance floor was took me back to middle school: everyone lining the floor, staring in.

The DJ was pretty lousy. Lots of mid-tempo crunchy rap that’s not great for dancing, cycled with slow crunchy rap ill-suited to getting a crowd up and moving. Finally, some lady swung herself out of the dance floor and made me realize that not only has it been too long since I went out dancing, but that this was going to be a tough crowd to keep up with.

…And no way was I going to be able to keep up with the bumblebee over there stinging the hell out of that guy. (Not that I wanted to.)

We managed to get a few songs in before the show of the evening started, at which point my comrades in arms were drooping in fatigue. (I’d napped all afternoon in a desperate attempt to get over my cold and be alert.)

I kinda failed on getting over the cold, but the festivities were a fun reprieve.