Halloween in Manhattan is always confusing and frightening for me. I mean, you never really know who’s in costume, right? How can you tell the real Naked Cowboy from Halloween Naked Cowboy? Is that your normal everyday wall street broker dressed up as a Lindsay Lohan or is that a real tranny hooker? Oh hey, look over there! Is that a real cop? More importantly, is that a real gun?
Rocco and I popped into a bar to hide from the cold while we waited for the theater to open. As we climbed onto our stools, Rocco tipped his head forward and said quietly, “Look Honey, that waiter is dressed like the guy from Public Enemy?”
“You mean Flavor Flav?” I asked without looking.
“Yeah! That guy!” He gets so excited when I can figure out what the hell he’s talking about. It doesn’t happen often.
I turned to scour the room. “Where?”
“Here he comes!” he hissed in a whisper.
I watched a man in a top hat and suit vest walk by. “That guy?” I nodded in his direction.
“Yup! Wait until he turns around.”
“Dude. Flavor Flav doesn’t have bunny ears. He’s the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.”
“Oh. That makes much more sense.”
Though how awesome would that be? Instead of Kanye replacing his bottom teeth with a diamond grill, he should knock out his two front teeth and replace them with giant buck tooth bunny grills. That would be awfully fun for me. Somebody tell Eminem to get on that, ok?
This post is unwieldy already. You know what? I’ll wait and tell you about the Scottsboro Boys tomorrow. Today I’ll just distract you with the random other messes I’ve been leaving around the internet. Today’s Craftastrophe is an homage to Mildred (formerly known as cone-kitty) because she would have looked even more ridiculous in this collar. Speaking of other sites where I’ve been slutting it up, swing by Studio 30 and see all the probing (heh) questions the stunning Vapid asked me for their weekly “Questions for a Blogger” feature.
Also (and this is strictly a hypothetical question and in no way related to my lack of balance or the delicateness of a tiny kitty so nobody call PETA, damnit), how can you tell if a cat’s foot is broken?