Damn, what can I say about Halloween that hasn't been said already? Admit it, this year was no different from last year, and the year before that, et al. Albeit, there is no glass ceiling for children under thirteen (the true proprietors of Halloween), whom can’t see past 1-upping each other with the expensive costumes mom and pop spent their lunch break purchasing. But, the idea of being “over the top” just doesn’t exist for adults sixteen and over (my how they grow these days), ladies in particular. Anyway you slice it, every slutty cop from the year before, is, and by far will always be slutty. I’m not gonna touch (no homo) the dudes. Getting dressed for All Hallows is just as difficult as making a sneaker and T-shirt match. With that in mind, I made my choice of outfit as plain as the white T-shirts I wear—a blonde wig. I joined New York’s freakiest at Stereo on Tuesday night and saw all I needed to see, but sadly didn’t get to fully capture it thanks to Steve who (accidentally) broke my camera. I’m not that mad because I’m really not impressed by my likely finds. Well, I do wish I got a photo of the Cobrasnake getting pimp-slapped by some perp from the mosh pit. Oh well, trick or treat, you be the judge.
The Cobrasnake, before he was introduced to five fingers.
Photography by the Cobrasnake
Paige as, well, Paige for Halloween.
I missed the shot where this girl licked Tom's mask. Moments later, with the wreckage that is now my camera, I'd miss much more.
Until I get a new camera Steve, I hate you.
Weird.
You're cool.
What the fuck!?
Because this post is lacking in the usual cleavage, or ass shot, maybe my camera breaking is some kind of weird retribution for my exploitation of women.
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