IT’S THE GREAT PUMPKIN, CARLITOS BROWN
The morning after Halloween, I always tend to feel like Linus after sitting on a big ass pumpkin patch all night long waiting for the Great Pumpkin to appear bearing gifts and toys, only walk away empty-handed and with crampy butt cheeks.
There were no expectations for greatness this year, so the night didn’t turn out to be one great disappointment. I also didn’t front like wouldn’t dress up for West Hollywood’s Halloween Carnival 2010, cuz let’s face it, I’m a traditional kind of guy. Like most of my homoed ones, The Halloween Carnival is what I do. And I try to do it well.
So like here’s the deal..when I came out of the closet, I signed a contract with the City of West Hollywood, which clearly states that I must always be topless on Halloween night (don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules). However there’s only so many costumes a guy can pull off sans a shirt, without being totally uninspired in something totally lame like…a thong—“look at me, I’m the Thong Guy.” I HAVE to be creative. I HAVE to be sexy. And it helps if it’s somewhat masculine, cuz the queens come out at night.
2010 found me a little uninspired in the begining. Then it hit me. I could be Jesus Christ Superstar, cuz it’s like HELL-O, it doesn’t get better than a shirtless J.C.—only of course, I would have to sex him up bit, on account of I didn’t want to breach my contract with The City and so forth (sexy Jesus is in the fine print). It would also have to be a modern version of how Jesus would like to be portrayed, cuz you don’t see too many sexy Christs out on the Blvd, let’s be honest. I already had a christlike wig. I own an array of loincloths. All I would have to do is make the crown of thorns, which would have to be bedazzled in red rhinestones to represent the blood of the sacrificial lamb, and I figured I could make bitches fall back with a glittery disco ball inspired cross (when in doubt, copy Madonna). I could straddle, hump, bump and grind the cross like nasty girls do on a stripper pole—OR I could do a tragic dance and spin the cross around and maybe do the tango. You know…my very own kewt style interpretation of the The Passion (insert thin evil grin here).
.
.
Alas…I roll around with way too many Jesus freaks for someone who once fancied himself the Antichrist. I used to own the Satanic Bible and I also dabbled into a little witchcraft back in the evil years—but I’m not a witch. By the time my friends heard that I planned to paint my face like a sad Jesus clown with a dramatic teardrop running down the side of my mug and all the fixings, they said they would feed me to the mob and send me to the carnival solo.
I guess people aren’t ready for a sexy Jesus with a clown face and a dancing cross, SOOoo…I decided to drop Jesus, the Lord of the Kingdom, and go for Tarzan, the Lord of the Chimps (redundant, I know), but I couldn’t be any run-of-the-mill King of the Jungle. I decided to go for the cuter 60’s version of Tarzan with the trendy haircut and the trimmed armpits and not the updated version with the grimy face and the ratted long hair. All I needed was a chimp and a vine to swing on. I asked a friend if he would be my monkey man, but he vehemently refused to be my plus one co-star. I had to settle for a chimp puppet I found on Ebay for 20 bucks. It was make-it-work time with the vine, which involved a glue gun and a green grass skirt that I cut up and wrapped around an old pole that I kept from when I dressed up like an indian (the feathery kind of indian and not the 7-Eleven kind with the dot). I bent the pole to give it a swinging effect and I added real vines that I ripped out of my neighbor’s front yard to show everyone what’s what.
It was ON and SNAPPING at The West Hollywood Carnival! It is no longer a gay affair, or an us vs them event that I always remember. It is just an EVENT! There were more costumes this year than I remember from years past. Some costumes blew me away, while others were total duds. It’s like why even bother with the Jason hockey masks, or the cheap costume in a bag?
Here are some of my faves: I loved the little kid that played dead while wearing a Saw mask and a little black suit. People went crazy taking his picture while he lied there motionless. I wanted to kick him on the head to make sure he wasn’t really dead. I loved the Brazilian miner carrying a sign that read “What happens in the mine, stays in the mine.” I loved the cute drunk straight guy that looked like…a cute drunk straight guy (that costume was EVERYwhere). There were a lot of phallic symbols. My friend Luis Camacho (of Madonna Truth or Dare fame) was a Catholic priest with a huge hateful cock protruding from his black dress (people LOVED it). My friend David and his bunch were total dickheads wearing big phallic balloons on their heads and coconuts dangling around their necks for…um, hairy guy nuts—oh yeah, and I saw several versions of Jesus, some of who were pretty sexy, even though that wasn’t their intent (I couldda played that part). And of course, I ran into other Tarzans, but let’s be for real here people…none of them could touch my loincloth, chimp and vine (I’m so not conceited…I’m just convinced…AND confirmed…and I guess a little confused). I wrestled with monsters, climbed a tree and a shitload of ladies wanted to swing from my vine—sorry gurls, but I prefer to swing from limbs, not dive into bushes (grin).
Here are the one’s I hated. The fuck drag Sarah Palins were a total dud. The fuck drag in general was a disgusting display. People need to commit and shave off those beards—we were trapped in a crowd with an old man in a ratty wig, thong, heels, and a very hairy back; the hair spread out to the back of his upper arms. It was so wrong. As I mentioned before, the Jason hockey masks have got to go. There were a lot of gays in the military, which consisted of queeny guys in military shorts and a rainbow sticker on their forehead. Dumb. And last, but not least the sexy real girls dressed as slutty cops, bunnies, nurses, cheerleaders, school girls and you get the gist, needed to get whacked with a broomstick. I hate people that use Halloween to run around the streets completely naked. OK, now cut to the pictures below.
.
.
I did end up at a costume party after walking the Blvd for a few hours. It was a sober party—and by sober I mean, it was depressing. I don’t know what it is about sobriety and drag shows, but they tend to go hand in hand. I walked into this party with a monkey on my back in time to watch a drag diva doing her version of Ertha Kitt (the old Turban-wearing version and not the Cat Lady man killer queen we all love). Anyway, things livened a bit when the cops busted the party because the music was so obnoxiously loud. Did I mention this was a sober party? The performances continued however, with the next act being Lady Gaga doing Bad Romance to the sound of a kitchen radio. You could hear the bitch’s lips smacking and her heels clacking, because the music was so damn low. A girl’s gottah have her sounds. It was awkward. At one point she walked off the spotlight to talk to one of her friends while the song was still playing. Then she stripped down to a Gaga-like corset and somehow got herself snagged into the spider webs all around her. I felt all shades of evilness kick in. I had to remove myself.
Anyway…It was The Great Pumpkin, Carlitos Brown. It didn’t rain gifts and toys, but I still had a good time. That’s all for this year. Next year IT will come. To quote my favorite Mistress of the Dark: “Unpleasant dreams…”
Luv,
Me
