This past weekend, instead of going to the Civil War event I'd planned on, or seeing the long-lost friend that was in town, or really getting much of anything accomplished, I sat at home and felt crummy. But it's Halloween and by gum, I'm gonna post something. And maybe, since I relentlessly mock those poor Regency hussies so much, I should scrutinize myself for a minute. For your viewing pleasure, may I present:
Pictures of Myself that I've Found on the Internet
*Not what you're probably thinking. All from Comic Book Conventions!
For optimal humiliation, I'm including a picture stolen from somewhere on the internet of what I was supposed to look like.
The Winsome Wasp!
A.K.A. Janet Van Dyne, The Wasp, probably lots of other stuff. I don't keep up anymore.
Just for the record, the Wasp is probably the shortest adult female character in... maybe anywhere. She's an Avenger, from the classic Marvel line-up. She's around 5 feet tall, and shrinks down to the size of... well, a wasp. Since I am huge and inappropriate, almost nobody knew who I was. And yes, those are my underwear, and yes, it was an "intentional costuming decision." That only makes it worse, I know.
A.K.A. Golden Age Batwoman, Bat Woman, Kathy Kane, Bruce Wayne's piece o' the week.
Oh, did you come looking for condiments, Batman? Well relish THIS.
The best part of this costume was realizing my rump was too big to fit into the original bottoms the day of the convention. So I improvised, Bat-Woman style and used my gym shorts and tucked up the legs. As a side note, I've worn that wig more frequently than I've worn my current pair of running shoes. Even though this is a "classic" Batman character, nobody had ever heard of her. Consequently, ONE person knew who I was and - no joke- he was profoundly mentally retarded.
A.K.A "that blue chick that got blasted into oblivion in Episode III because she got distracted by a freakin' BIRD." It was a bird, Aayla. A BIRD. I hope it was worth losing the Galactic Republic.
Awww, YISSSS! This was an epic masterpiece, truly. The pants were under more pounds of pressure than the walls of a submarine and my "blue skin" kept rubbing off onto the creepers and children of creepers who wanted pictures. Worthy of note: this was like, EIGHT FRIKKIN' YEARS AGO. The movie had just come out, everybody had seen it, and every man, woman and child in America knew who I was. (Except for the little girl who was sure I was a Smurf. Sorry, sweetie.) Everything blue was a different color of blue and at a critical moment in the afternoon, one of my Styrofoam "ears" (or whatever they are... side horns?) fell off and landed in my cleavage.
Happy Halloween, everyone! May your body paint stay put, your tights never ride up, and your Styrofoam prosthetics remain true!