Sunday, November 28, 2010

Why do people have costume parties?

So this fellow is turning forty (40) and he wants a costume party.

So the beloved of my heart, mother of my children, Beast of Brisbane, Hammer of the Helpless, decided to let out her inner Morticia. Knowing the calibre of the other guests, I decided to be prepared as a Fearless Vampire Killer.

The "walking stick" is actually a concealed stake-cane. Note the narrow-eyed look of suspicion. You can tell we're married. This posting is for the amusement of Quokka, Morgana, Catty et al and should not be read by anyone else. Especially NowhereBob.


  1. A few years ago one of the saner and pleasanter of our neighbours had a halloween costume party. Their house had a cat that routinely beat up all the rest of the neighbourhood cats. It had arrived with their new housemate, who I shall call 'Nikki' and on several occasions Nikki and I had pushed our way through the overgrowth in the adjacent flats to intervene in a feline dispute where the only winner would be the vet, laughing all the way to the bank from stitching the idiot cats back together.

    The Bloke loves a costume party and immediately turned to me with ideas for what he'd dress up as this time. Naturally he was over-ruled.

    On the night of the party we made our grand entry into the neighbour's house, artfully disguised as the two warring cats, complete with neck bells and inscribed ID. We hissed, yowled, rolled and scratched our way from the front of the queenslander to the back of it, hurling Cat Profanities at each other. The host was delighted and asked us to do a repeat performance for guests who arrived late.

    The woman who owned the cat that was beating ours up wasn't at the party, but heard about our performance art and 2 weeks later she and her vicious cat moved elsewhere.

    Mischief managed.

    I still run into people around West End who say 'Hey, I know you, you were that brawling cat at Matt's party.'

  2. To provide photographic opportunities otherwise denied.

  3. The perks of being bad... we get photos!

    Did you pester Fifi all night to "say something French", Greybeard?

    Quokka, I think you and the Bloke should come to breakfast as warring cats. Carn, you know you want to.

  4. Yeah Quokka, Carn the Cats!

    The funny thing is that Fifi used to be a french teacher when I met her. Naturally I used to introduce her as my French mistress.

  5. Bah. Don't talk to me about costumes....

    The school is having another theme day on Wednesday. So guess who has to come up with three costumes tomorrow?


    Great costumes, Greybeard. You two look good.

  6. Most kids tell you about the costumes the night before they're needed. Adds to the fun.

  7. If you want to see a rerun of that you just need to be in the backseat during a car trip. Any car trip, doesn't matter if its to West End and back for a loaf of bread or a longer trip to the north or south coast.

    A few years ago we decided to do a car trip from Melbourne to Adelaide so we could tour the great ocean road. We weren't sure we'd survive the trip but remarkably the disputes were few. Probably because when it came to criticizing driving skills and poor traffic decisions, I was outclassed and outnumbered by all the grey nomads in enormous urban assault vehicles, towing caravans and doing 50km/hour.

    The bloke kept cursing them and asking why they'd buy such powerful vehicles if they're not going to go over 60km/hr.
    I think it's because all those really big 4WDs have a plug in device where you can recharge your pacemaker and your hearing aid.