11:15 p.m. // 01 November 2003

So, I was friendsterdotcom for Halloween. I made buttons of people's heads (some real friendsters, some of them just hip-looking folks from magazines) and that lame smiley face logo as a mask.

Dwayne was Andy Warhol. There was another possible Andy Warhol at the club but he wasn't very good. Dwayne cut up his wig very carefully, and he had a striped shirt and sunglasses and I gave him a camera to wear around his neck all night. Except he wore his jacket and sunglasses and belt and shoes and pants that he always wears.

Heather was a crazed E. Smith fan/zombie and Jonah was Roy with a huge Wal-Mart white tiger around his neck and awesome neck wounds by Heather. Even Nazli was there in some '70s clothes, and she was DRINKING a Smirnoff even though she just had her GALLBLADDER out. Dustin wore a really tight felt pink bear-ish outfit, and Dwayne and I couldn't tell it was someone we knew until he started talking to us. Rick had a moustache made of snotty fake blood. Bret, who I worked as an intern for at The Met, was there visiting town, and of course he told me to freelance and try to write more. THIS IS ALL YOU ALL WILL GET FOR NOW. chumps.

Quintron and Miss Pussycat rocked. I think he wanted to play all night. I thought Bob Log III was awesome at first, but he played a really long set and he started doing songs about "boob scotch" and a "big rock hard-on" and had two girls from the audience sit on his lap. So, that was kind of a turn-off.

One of the reporters at work said my hair looks like Betty Page. Also this week the news librarian said my haircut makes me look like I'm 17. (I said, "Is that good or bad?" He said, "It's a good thing, I guess.") Also, a couple weeks ago I had my hair in ponytails and my co-workers said it looked like they were practicing child labor. MIDDLEAGED GUYS STOP TALKING ABOUT MY HAIR PLEASE.

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