Oh goll. I feel almost too tired to type. Almost. Let's go for a little music.

Threat Level 5. Yes.

I was up way too late last night, and arose way too early this morning. After finishing the rambling at an altogether ridiculous hour, I made my preparations, which included the lengthy process of removing certain bodily hair. (Not strictly necessary, but a good idea.) I then spent much tedious effort on a trial run to just get the whole ensemble on. I had to overcome the pitfalls and prove I could do it before allowing myself to sleep. No surprises to creep up from behind in the morning.

<barbie math voice>
Bras are hard.
</barbie math voice>

Got up extra extra early to prepare. Did so with what I guess could be considered optimal efficiency. Well, I had pre-rehearsed almost the whole process of dressing, so it went much quicker than it had hours before. I applied lipstick, eyeshadow, and blush. Donned earrings and bracelet. What a freak I had become!

Left the house at the time I normally wake up. I knew that if other family members saw me in this costume, it would NOT be getting the day off on the right foot. Off to a mostly empty parking lot to read and listen to the radio for a while. Killing time.

Tobias was nervous about the occupant in the driver's seat, to say the least. Poor little car. Strange and unfamiliar treads touching the pedals. Seatbelt shoulder stap having to extend to an abnormal degree. And what NASTY colored fingernails on the hands which held the steering wheel. And the odd, bright platinum blond hair falling over the seat. It was almost too much for Tobias's tender emotional subsystems to bear in the early morning cold.

In an attempt to ease the creature's frayed nerves, I tried taking the scenic route to work. (Well, I also was bored to death, and needed to kill some more time.) It didn't help. The icky traffic on this strange morning path only added to Tobias's anxiety. When we finally reached the office destination, Tobias was just glad to be stopped, and have the unsettling, almost human-looking figure removed from the cabin.

B entered the office, feeling like (s)he was in the middle of some sort of really twisted dream.

Yeah, whatever.

I just put that cd on, BTW. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

When I reached A's cube, the other known wildcard in the Halloween dress-up match, well.... Hair high as a spikey mountain, and as bright a shade of pink as... neon lights, or... something. Jean jacket, with matching material to cover the legs. And then there was the gasp (of horror? followed by laughter) upon witnessing B's appearance. lol.

Too freaky. Upon passing H's cube, B heard something resembling a groan. Freakin out, man!

This day had to be among my least productive ever. (Not like there are any days I would really call "productive" in the true sense of the word during this era, but this day.... even worse. No question about it.)

After having sat down and attempted to type something for a few minutes, B sensed a presence behind him. It was P, camcorder in hand, standing silently in the cube entrance. Yeeeeeeeeeeeekkk!

Oh what a lovely morning. I'm not even sure if I mean that sarcastically or not.

One thing I have learned from this experience: Breasts and bras, while they may appear wonderful and attractive from a bystander's perspective, are far from the most convenient or comfortable appendages to be carrying around. Speaking from the first person.

However... I would be a liar if I said I wasn't slightly titillated every now and then by the feeling. Sensual chest curves protruding. Especially with the tank top lightly brushing and squeezing against my stomach underneath the dress shirt. Makes ya feel like a little... well... I think slut is the word. Yes. Slut. Wear the title with pride.

Wandering around the office, not too terribly many costumes. Well, one other coworker was like... a trenchcoat cowboy or something. There was also someone wearing a black turtleneck. L took digital pictures of the costumed ones as they found occassion to parade around the office at seemingly random intervals. (Well, I don't know about everyone else, but I had a good excuse. I had to... calibrate the equipment. Yeah, that's it. Calibrate the equipment.)

One coworker, whose consonant shall not be named (and no, it wasn't D this time), made what would certainly be considered a sexually harrassing remark to B as they passed each other in the conduit to the snack zone. Ooooh, Taboo!

When it came time for lunch, all the company gathered in the eating space on the other end of the building and consumed pizza. Chairs. Opposite sides of a room. B sat down on one side, and casually began to eat his pizza in peace. A and a couple other people sat against the opposing wall.

A of the high hair (paraphrase): "And THAT is why we had you get boxers." Looking in a very specific direction.

DOH! Those legs snapped together as fast as a rocket to the moon. And stayed that way. For the rest of the meal. I think. They better have.

N arrived in the middle of lunch. Upon his entrance, A pointed out the product of their efforts the previous day. B waived a dainty wave, the purple nails on fluttering fingers. N turned his head, covered his eyes, and groaned. "I KNEW you would make an ugly woman." lol.

After the meal, there was the costume contest. (With the entire company, not just engineering, there was a much larger pool of well-costumed individuals present.) The rules were simple. Each contestant would parade through the center of the room, and the applause meter did the judging.

And so we did. B made an attempt at curtsying as he made his way down the lane, and probably failed miserably at it. Oh well. lol.

The winners were some people who I don't know, and probably wouldn't recognize at all even if I did see them in a normal situation. Crazy, silly, Halloween fun.

...and back to the engineering wing.

B decided it was time to up the stakes, dug some accessories out of the backpack, and made the modifications. Dark, open gaping wound under the (left?) eye. Blood running down and staining the cheek. A gash on the neck. Think, dark red goup coming out of the nose.

The story: "My boyfriend. He loves me. He really does. It was for my own good. I love my boyfriend, and he loves me."

A's theory was that B's boyfriend was really a pimp, and B had been punished for not bringing in enough money. "That's what all the hookers say about their pimps. Calling them boyfriend."

B refused to buy into A's big-haired slander against her boyfriend. "He's my boyfriend and he LOVES me! He really does!"

Well, things pretty much degenerated from there. Some work was attempted, and at least a little bit of so-called "productivity" was achieved. Perhaps some were more "productive" than others.

At around 1700, B was feeling quite beat. The dry, caked, scab and blood carnage on top of the dry, caked makeup. And the ear lobes. Aching like hell! The whole chest thing also taking its toll.

Off to the bathroom. Hopefully, no one would be using it at such an hour. (B had been studiously limiting liquid consumption over the course of the day, and successfully managed to hold it all in. Besides the "Which restroom?" dilemma, the thought of undoing and then doing up all that crap again was not appealing.

B entered the men's restroom, and successfully removed the most critical aspects of the costume. Right while B was working on the bra, someone walked in. A fellow engineer, who does not yet have a letter assignment. I think the fellow engineer was even more initially spooked than B! He said he initially wondered whether he had walked into the wrong door, and appeared relieved to realize the truth.

The fellow engineer did his business, and left in peace. B got the bra removed, washed the face relatively clean. (Still lingering eyeshadow, even now.) Put on a good ole pair of jeans, a tshirt, and stuffed the mess of artifacts into the backpack. Except for the items belonging to A. Made sure to handle those with extra care, keeping them away from the wet sinks as much as possible, and categorizing into a separate pile.

Walked out feeling almost normal again.

Returned the borrowed items to their rightful owner. (Except for the oh-so-prissy stockings. Although B offered to return them, A had said they were keepers. In fact, refusing to take them back. I can't imagine why!)

After making a few final wrapups, walked out to Tobias, took out the standard pair of shoes, threw the sandal slippers aside, and let my feet feel the joy. Tobias was greatly reassured.

Another wierd after-effect: While driving on the way home, I couldn't help but feel.... empty. My chest was.... gone! Physically. Had my brain adjusted to this alteration so quickly, that it would feel abnormal to be normal? Even now, my skin down there says there's something... missing. Thy bosom hath been removed from thee.

Yadda yadda. Hope that gives all the readers a good mindjob.

And... let's see.... Do I have any causes to champion? Trying to think of some... Hmmmm...

Guess not. Come back another day.

Now, I know what people are thinking. Doesn't everyone who just read this wish that they had a workplace as conducive to freakiness and outright insanity as myself? I knew you did.

Stomach rumbling. Trick or treat. Yonk. Think I'll lumber outta this chair now. And what a mess my room is now. Perhaps I should light the Candle of Protection and Purification, and CLEAN the damn place. Me... cleaning. Likely story tonight.

Aw well. On to the rest of it. Gobble.