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10-31-01 - 10:39 p.m. I had to enter the date and time for this entry. Manual labor frightens me... Tonight I did something I had never done before, not once in my entire life: I went trick-or-treating. Oh, I've passed out candy...I've passed out at Halloween parties...I've dressed up and helped decorate, and for the past two years I had intended on going out to partake in this most greedy of rituals. But I never did get around to it. When Justin and Bryan learned of this, they both were shocked�not at me (for they knew of my parents' evil ways...), but rather at Rob for never taking me after what they call "The Great Liberation." (My emancipated youth-ness and adoption by George and Sharon.) So tonight the four of us went out, my just-over-five-feet self dwarfed by my six-and-some-odd-inches men, towering over all the two-or-three-foot-tall little girls and boys. We of the Playboy crew altered our costumes a little bit. Justin made himself a "mish mosh," wearing an assortment of my, Bryan's, and Rob's clothing and carrying a pink feather boa�Bryan's, not mine. I threw on a shimmery green tank top and black pants and called myself Britney Spears, Rob continued wearing my old field hockey jersey and kilt. After about the 19,000th time I had told Bryan he looked like Alex from A Clockwork Orange, he rushed to Party City, bought a pair of outrageously long false eyelashes, a black bowler hat, and a fake eyeball for his sleeve. With his cane and all white outfit, he looked like he was ready for some of the old in-out, in-out with Justin. Or maybe just some ultra-violence. But first we had to get the milk-plus. And Milk Duds. I felt increasingly more pathetic as the night went on when, at every door we came to, someone would greet us, ask, "Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?" and having one of my three boys pointing to me and saying, "She's never been before." I got a lot of pity candy, though. After a couple hours of stuffing pillowcases with assorted sweets, the four of us headed over to La Casa de Cory, basically, Cory's house. Cory is a friend of Justin's ex-boyfriend, or some other such nonsense. I asked Rob if he felt out of place, being the only straight guy among ten or so gays. He said he didn't just as long as I remained heterosexual. At Cory's we sang karaoke and danced. Now, let me explain something about Cory's house: it's huge. Half of the basement (a rare find in California) has been converted into a huge wood dance floor, with a small stage for a DJ setup and disco lights and speakers and a bar off to the side. I'm sure you can guess where I spent most of my time. (No, not the bar, though it was very tempting.) I got to dance with Rob for the first time in a while. Cory himself asked me to dance when Cherry Poppin' Daddies ("Zoot Suit Riot") came on what he called his "Mega Party Dance Mix" and I learned that swing dancing hasn't yet died. This was a good day. Two in a row. I think Justin thinks he lives here now. That's fine, I guess, but shouldn't I be notified first?
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