My Greatest Halloween

Posted: November 1, 2010 in Nonfiction

I don’t get laid a lot.

If you haven’t caught on from earlier posts, I’m kind of a dickhead. Couple that with the fact that I’m ugly, and BOOM! You’ve got “not getting laid” dynamite.

Being a jerk isn’t the only thing that prevents me from being the Fuck Machine I’d like to be. I’m also kind of weird when it comes to women. I don’t like most of them. Especially the popular ones. I tend to like goofy girls and damaged broads, interesting humans. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve slept with pretty girls, and if I were getting a hooker I wouldn’t need to talk to her first to know which one I wanted. But I never jerked off to the girls I was supposed to jerk off to in high school. Sorry Jaime Ryker, you are beautiful, but you never snuck into my head while I was tossing one out (which was often.) Nope, I dug a different vibe: aloof and awkward. But it didn’t hurt if you were skinny too.

This is a true story, and as such, I will not be getting laid at the end of it. Still, I’ll continue to refer to it as my Best Halloween Ever:

It was my Junior Year of college, and I was taking an art class: Introduction to Drawing.I loved it. And I sucked at it. To be fair, it should have been called, Introduction to Drawing for art majors. Every kid in that class was awesome with skills far surpassing my own. I was an english major with big clumsy hands that had a tendency to make every charcoal portrait look like a comic book villain.

We were starting projects requiring extra time out of class, and I was coming in on a Friday before a party. As it was Halloween, and I was putting in extra effort, I decided to get stoned before hand, and take a couple of shots. It was my first time coming into the old army-barracks looking building that served as the Art House at Purdue drunk, but certainly not the first time coming in stoned. This was an art class after all.

We were to sketch a still life, and mine was awful. Everyone else’s looked amazing. There were guitars in the still lifes, and theirs’ looked like acoustic album covers from bands you probably weren’t cool enough to know. Mine looked like you’d put old ladies in a microwave and they’d started to melt. Still I plugged away. After a couple of hours, the rum in my belly began moving toward my dick. I decided it was probably time to go.

I got to the house around seven thirty. I was in a Fraternity in college. This shocks some people. It shouldn’t. As I said earlier, I’m kind of a dickhead. I went to Purdue, and Purdue’s an old institution. It was all men for a long time. So there are a ton of Frats there, and they don’t really mean much. Initiations and that nonsense are not nearly as intense as I’ve heard from people from other schools. My house was essentially a big apartment building where everybody pitched in for booze on Fridays. We were, by no one’s definition, cool or selective. We did very little well, and were not a great social network, but sometimes, we threw really good parties and this Halloween would be one of them.

I dressed as a Mime. It was a hilarious costume for me. I talk more than anyone I know. Unless you count women.

And I had no intention of staying in character at all. Nope, I was chatty Mime. All night.

It was also funny because I’m a fat guy. You ever seen a fat Mime? Me either. Mimes are all scrawny dudes that look like David Bowie. But at Sigma Pi’s Halloween Party, I was a mime.

I don’t regret my time in the Fraternity. Not at all. I made some terrific friends. Friends I still keep, even with some effort. Three of my favorites were a trio of pals who’d joined together; Molojko “Môk” Dobrievich, a Serbian kid every bit as interesting as his name sounds, T.J. “Shanghai” Wilson, a tall, good-looking kid that was a drummer in a band. He was white guy but went to school in China. And my best friend Josh Pratt. Pratt was a skinny guy who smoked all the time. He woke up and smoked, he smoked in the shower, he smoked while he ate eggs, he smoked in the middle of soccer games. He was super skinny, he had the type of physique that could get lost under the blankets of an unmade bed.

The three guys were nice and funny. Very interesting dudes. They also all had very distinct looks. They looked the same everyday. Not like each other, just like themselves. I’ve never been able to establish that. I constantly change my hair and beard and clothing. I’ve never been comfortable enough with a look to really hold on to it. People tell me that’s a sign of insecurity. I tell them I’ve never seen Hitler not look like Hitler. Maybe I just really don’t want to be like Hitler.

Anyway, these guys had a style. Môk always wore a Hawaiian Shirt and a Hunter S. Thompson looking hat, baggy shorts and sandals. If he weren’t an athletically built young man, you could have mistaken him as a displaced tourist. Shanghai always wore baggy jeans and skate shoes, a backwards cap and an oversized T he’d brought back from China, with Asian lettering or images on it. Pratt wore jeans and a long sleeved T with some snarky T-shirt from Good Will over it. Nothing ever brighter than grey.

He also always wore a stocking cap. Always. I honestly did not no the color of his hair for the first 8 months of our friendship.

So it wasn’t weird when three girls that hung around those guys dressed up as them for Halloween.

Three girls, all very pretty and very cool dressed up as my three buddies. A Korean girl named Nikki with long black hair dressed up as Shanghai, a pretty apple-faced girl with big boobs whose name I don’t remember dressed up as Môk, and an absolutely lovely girl named Lauren Accari dressed up as my buddy Josh Pratt. She was sexy; a skinny dark haired girl with freckles across her nose. She wore here hair tangled up in a Samurai knot and wore jewelry that made her look like a gypsy. She was always fucking some band’s lead singer and scamming weed for less money than the rest of us paid for it. She had stolen a shirt form Josh’s closet, probably something ironically quoting scripture or signifying allegiance to the republican party, and borrowed his hat to pull off a disturbingly accurate recreation of my very best friends. It really was uncanny. She looked just like him. She put on glasses and mimicked his distinctive slouch. It was a hilarious costume.

The party went late, and I drank too much. I’d occasionally go up to my room with various party-goers to rip bongs and take shots. I can remember at one point going into the bathroom and seeing my reflection; White facepaint stained red around the mouth from some sugary college booze concoction. I looked disturbingly like a giant toddler’s ghost. Lauren/Josh had a tendency to find me every hour or so. Every time she felt like she could stand to get a little higher. I don’t remember everything that went down that night. I simply can’t recall much, as was usual at that time in my life.

I do remember that at the end of the night, I found myself in a little room right next to the dance floor that led up to the back entrance. Lauren/Josh was there, and we sat down on the bench together. I can’t remember how it started. Not at all. I probably bummed her a cigarette and said something I thought was funny, and she thought was a stupid. But somehow it worked. I leaned in to kiss her and she didn’t turn away. We made out for a long time. She tasted like Vodka, Kool-aid, and cigarettes.

Nothing amazing happened. I felt her up and knuckle dusted her clit over her jeans for awhile. She bit my ear and rubbed my cock through my pants. I can remember being so happy to have worn slacks with this costume. I don’t remember how the night ended. I probably asked her to come up to my room, but she didn’t.

The next day, around two or three in the afternoon, after a hungover breakfast and necessary shower I drove up to the video store with my friends. I needed something for a project, and they needed something to do.

We talked about the night and how much fun we had had. I kept quiet for a while. It’s always weird with dudes, especially nerd dudes, and groups of women.

You don’t know who digs whom, or whose chances you’ll ruin with another girl by making out with one of her friends. Eventually my buddies busted my balls for not having as good of a time as they did. They’d gotten laid.

Of course they had. Eventually, I got a little angry. I didn’t care who was trying to sleep with her, I didn’t care who had asked her out, or who wanted to.

“I fooled around with Lauren.”

I said in a disinterested fashion. The way you’d tell your parents something when you don’t want any questions to follow it. The way that declares a conversation will not ensue.

My friends were surprisingly awesome. Congratulations all around. They were happy for me. They were better friends than I am, I’d have been jealous. The car got awkwardly silent for moment. Then Josh asked:

“Was she still dressed up like me?”

I had made her take off the hat. It was a great fucking costume.

A few years later my buddy told me she denied it. It hurt my feelings, but not that badly. It was kind of even good news. I was nervous when he interrupted my telling of the story with, “that’s not what she said,”

because I thought he was going to tell me that she’d said I was pushy or inappropriate. I’m always terrified of being a rapist. I’m a big guy, and like I said, I drink too much. I was fine with her just being embarrassed.

A few years after that I was doing a show in Chicago. I’d made a post on Myspace days before, and she came out. She was with her aunt and uncle, and she brought some dude, probably in a band. The cigarettes had made her look a little older, but she was still cute, and she was still skinny. We didn’t hang out afterward.

But she had driven across town to watch me tell jokes. I wonder if she did it because she was embarrassed,

or because she wasn’t.

  1. Andrew C-K says:

    I really like this post. It has a personality like the best person at a small party. “I looked disturbingly like a giant toddler’s ghost.” is such an amazing line, although if I were your editor, I’d have you ditch the adverb.

    This is becoming one of my favorite blogs to follow.

    • DJ Dangler says:

      Thanks so much Andrew, that’s a high compliment. Especially since I know for a fact you’re accustomed to interesting small parties. I’m pretty sure you just dig the blog though because you’re an avid fight sports fan, but whatever, I’ll take any praise I can get. Hope you’re excellent. sir. I’ll be in the Midwest next week for about a month. I hope I’ll see you sometime, maybe I’ll run into you at Yatz.

  2. El Trappo says:

    How would you respond to the reports that you secretly have a Japanese Pillow of Josh Pratt that you treat as if it was your girlfriend?

  3. isaac landfert says:


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