While working downtown, D-Dog and I decided to engage in activity from yesteryear – good ol’ fashioned doorbell ditching – modern style. This involves calling people in ‘secure housing’ from the telephone entry system. Ice Cream Man lives in a nearby loft, so we quickly ditched the photo shoot and ran across the street to begin doorbell ditching him.
Like so many other tasks we attempt, we succeeded on the first time. As we ran back across the street, he told Sleepless, “I think they’re walking around with a big box.” Personal. D-Dog and I were walking around with a softbox and felt it provided a good camouflage. Pretty soon, my phone started ringing. It was Sleepless with doorbell ditching questions. I pretended to not know what she or Ice Cream Man were referring to and advised her I had to go but might stop by in a bit.
A few minutes later, D-Dog, ROFL, the photo subject, and I all arrived at Ice Cream Man’s door with the big, softbox in hand. “It was you!” Sleepless exclaimed. “I can’t believe you tricked us.” Always a proper hostess, Sleepless offered us Smirnoff Ice; always good guests, we graciously accepted. As I was just about to put the softbox down, ROFL asked me to again assist with the shoot.
As I picked up the softbox with my tired and multi-tasking arms, I didn’t want to have to put the Smirnoff down, I advised Sleepless of a new trick I had learned. “Are you familiar with the ‘S’?” I asked her. “‘S’ for Smirnoff?” she asked. “No, ‘S’ as in stick your boobs and butt out so as to make the letter ‘S’ with your body,” I advised her while making my best letter ‘S’ ever. “That’s pretty sexy,” Sleepless replied and then told D-Dog, “She always tells me ‘try and be sexy.'” “Clearly, you misunderstood my accent. I was using my French voice, so I drop the ‘r,’ I’m actually saying ‘try and be sexier.’ Silent ‘r.'” “Uh huh,” Sleepless replied.
D-Dog and I soon ditched this party and the softbox because we had to get to another party – Witches’ Night Out with Bruiser. With only minutes to spare, we quickly ditched our outfits and put on the best witch creations we could find. Considering I’ve never purchased any items specific for a witch costume, we managed to put together a couple of great outfits using random pieces of clothing at my house. Many of which I should soon ditch.
Bruiser was waiting for us at the entrance of the event, donning a lovely orange and black witch ensemble. “So, listen to this,” she told us. “I totally found a hair on my chin two days ago. It was really long. I tweezed it, but now I am wishing I had saved it for tonight.” “That would have been awesome,” D-Dog stated.
Our hairless chins began walking around the event and quickly realized we were rather underdressed. “We definitely need to step it up a notch next year,” I suggested as we walked by a group of women in some very vintage looking witch attire. They spared nothing to capture the perfect look. “These dresses are from Virginia and were $1000 each. Our contacts were $50,” they told us with a bit of attitude. “These women are going from witch to bitch quick,” I told women. “Yep. Let’s ditch,” D-Dog replied. “Good idea,” I replied and added, “Ever since Salem, hanging around with witches has really lost it’s popularity.”