It Was Me!

I guess gramatically speaking, It was I. But no matter how you say it, I was the murderess last evening in our murder mystery party. We had so, so much fun. The costumes were way more fun than the actual chain of events that followed the guests' grand entrances.

Here's the run down. We had tapered leg jeans (read: tourniquette to the ankles), with high heels, fishnet stockings with tall heeled boots, my irridescent prom gown, a mini skirt (with said fishnets), wide belts worn around hips, hot pink shirts, long blue eyelashes, a cheesy linen 3-piece suit, pink hair, hair bows almost as big as the hair itself and more makeup than Mary Kay sells in any given year. Ah, the 80's. Those were good times.

And thankfully all good things must come to an end. I was dyeing in my dress but apparently I wasn't the only one. After the party the rock star stripped off her spiked leather collar. One punkster was sporting fake blue eyelashes. She was warned to tell people to duck when she blinked. We're hoping they come off with no visible harm done. And my hair is wondering what on earth it did wrong to get treated the way it did. I forgot how long it took to do 80's hair. And I also forgot about post-80's hair. Wow, after you take it down and comb it out for the night your poor hair is in shock and can't decide if it should curl or go straight. The end result resembles a light socket effect. The hair sticks straight out 2" from your head in a last ditch effort to conform to the torture it was put through, and then drops sharply limp, hanging there in defeat hoping to never be put through that torture again. As Mr. P from our party would have put it, "I pity the fool who married an 80's girl." Can you imagine the shock those husbands had the very first night with their 80's bride? Not only the hair, but when the 1/2 ton of makeup came off and he actually saw skin it could have been disturbing. Not exactly a honeymoon.