Last Saturday was one of those perfect days. I got up early and had a coffee and went over to Kevin's place to plan our day. Saturday night was Midnight Mass: Death Race 2000! And of course, we were going to be appropriately attired. We spent too many hours finding and searching junkyards for a steering wheel. What we won't do for props.
Apparently, insurance policies in SF preclude customers from actually going on the lot (as opposed to 'pick your part' junkyards in the East Bay) and these guys wanted over $50 for a steering wheel, which was more than we wanted to pay for a throw-away prop. We decided we would just get a foam ring from a craft store and wrap it in electrical or tennis-racket tape.
We then went to a uniform store in SoMa and tried on various coveralls, ultimately finding limited success. The very helpful woman there was able to pick out sizes that mostly fit us, but Kevin's needed major taking-in in the waist, and mine needed the ass reduced something major. So we called Barney and made an appointment to drop in at Club Jackson after lunch, and bring him some beer for our alterations.
After we found our mechanics' coveralls, we went to the profesional theatrical make-up place at Mission and 9th—because Kevin wanted to put a SF spin on our race team and do a red-skull "Day of the Dead" thing. I didn't really get the idea, but I am game for any adventure and supported the plan.
This makeup is really, really good and so much better than other crap I have dealth with at Halloween. We also took note of their other dramatic accroutrements, which were way gross.
The vileness of the chunky faux vomit was matched only by the fabulousness of the spray glitter.
Oh my.
We took lunch at Harvey's in the Castro and enjoyed the view, then chilled with Dr. Barney over at Club Jackson for the afternoon.
We were TEAM MAD MAX FACTOR, which I thought was genius for Death Race 2000 meets Peaches Christ. I wrote our names on the back of our uniforms in red tape (purchased for an insane eight bucks at Mendel's, where we bought the fabric for our racing scarves). This took for freakin' ever to write:
so it really sucked when getting out of the car, it just looked like this:
Pretty much in the first 15 minutes, what was left had transfered to the backs of our theater seats.
I am so broke and such a miser, but I didn't bat an eye on shelling out (and this is just my half) $50 for coveralls, $30 for makeup, $20 for misc crafts, and $30 for tickets. It was reminiscent of last year's extenisve costuming and props for Mommy Dearest. Clearly I am penny-wise and Midnight Mass-foolish.
And Kevin sprung for a steering wheel cover we fouind at Kragen's, which came with a plastic steering wheel to hold its shape. With the label blacked-out with a Sharpie, it was perfect.
And I must say, we looked awesome.
We were also the pre-show pre-show. The crowd was very straight, a little staid, and we were the only ones dressed with flair. So we took it upon ourselves to be entertaining. Or put another way, we let our freak flag fly.
While waiting for the pre-show to start, I would do laps racing up and down the aisles. I would shift, accelerate, and make little "vroom" noises while I did loops in alternating directions. For one lap, I left my soda/cocktail with Mr. Moses in the orchestra and after I mimed a drive-though order to the tragedy/comedy masks up front, he took my cash and handed me the drink. For the last lap, I broke down in the handicapped section, and Kevin, heretofore unseen by the audience, came down with his toolbox and repaired me. We returned to our seats just as the lights dimmed.
It reads kinda lame looking at it typed now, but trust me, the crowd loved us.
And Peaches was pleased with the effort.
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