Pirate is the new black

Saturday night did not find me whooping it up in Luhlville for the admission of EEK to the 30-club; but happily I did have a costume event to attend.

Would you believe pirates are in vogue this year? Believe it. I have not seen so many pirates swarming since I last rode the animatronic rollercoaster at Disneyland. Pirate, my friends, is the new "cute girl in a red sequin dress with devil horns and a glittery trident." The joint was chock-a-block stripey socks, cutlasses and bodices tied with leather thongs. There were plenty of manly pirates too, some of them were even sexy, which is only fair. I get tired of ogling tits.

My problem with pirate is that I -have- a pirate costume, and it's a freaking fabulous one (because I shopped at the San Francisco Opera costume shop warehouse sale). It's way better than these mass produced, pret-a-porter outfits purchased at the closest Spirit Superstore. But even when I get all the details just right, I am not even in the same Superdome as my sexy pirate-whore counterparts. Instead, you might say I capture the essence of a dwarvish, yet lumpy version of Jack Sparrow without the charismatic alcoholism and homoerotic smarm, I mean charm. And you would be right to say that. As much as I loves me some Jack, it works better on a skinny man with smoky eyes and good body language.

Thus I did not dress as a pirate, nor as any halloween variant on cunt-for-hire. I just can't carry it off. I wish I could. It would be so lovely to have one day a year when I could dress up and leave a swath of boners in my wake. It's not to be. Sexy as attempted by me comes off as a sad cocktail of garish tawdriness. The effect is the sort of thing you'd expect of Jerri Blank, if by Jerri Blank you mean a self-aware Jerri Black who just spent 3 weeks on an ecstacy bender and hasn't got two molecules of serotonin left to rub together for even the bleakest of smiles. Hot, eh?

Despite my advancing decreptitude, I can still do demure. Since these day I truly am a Catholic schoolgirl I togged up in a white button down, white knee socks, loafers, and the red, white and navy plaid uniform skirt donated to Goodwill by some tubby 8th grader. With Saint Jesus on a Stick dangling from my neck, I completed the outfit with a pony tail, apple cheeks and eyeliner-dot freckles. I looked cute. Demure. But cute. And it didn't take me 30 minutes to get in and out of the ladies room with all the costume adjusting a more salacious rig might have required. Plus, it was jungle hot at the club (70s funk cover band show). After tying my shirt in a bow above my waist, I was cool and comfortable. And cute. I'd still like to have been sexy in this lifetime.

I leave you with shout outs to great costume ideas:

- Splat in the hat (Cat in the hat bleeding from the mouth with mushed hat and tire track across chest)
- Disco skeleton (disco is dead, baby)
- a Jellyfish (same execution could be flying spaghetti monster)
- female troup of fruit of the loom
- Hooters waitresses (hot transvestites with stellar physiques only)

Costume ideas I am now tired of:
- Cute girl in a red sequin dress with devil horns and a glittery trident
- 70s leisure suit jive dude w/ giant fro (honkys)
- all black iPod person
- GoGo dancer
- St. Pauli girl
- Frat boy (that's a costume how exactly?)
- Murderous hospital worker/MD/nurse
- Dr. Phil Good/ Ben Dover, etc. or the candystriper/nurse equivalent
- Alice in Wonderland
- Robot