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Wednesday: A terrible time for a Halloween. Monday or Tuesday would be better even since some people might not be totally sick of the smell of fake blood and by Thursday that’s a whole new weekend, but Wednesday? C’mon. Nobody wants to leave the house, you’ve probably been slacking off all week and need to work early on Thursday, and the pictures came back from Saturday night and you looked like an idiot in that Babraham Lincoln costume your boyfriend said was hilarious. Now you’re supposed to go out again and get drunk somewhere? No thanks.

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Those who did brave the doldrums and second-chances-for-regret saw a truly kick-ass show at the Rock And Roll Hotel Halloween bash. It was supposedly a Warriors-themed party, but most people seemed to just show up in whatever to save the three bucks. There were a couple of really detailed gang members, but the best of them apparently had been in a closet for months waiting for an event like this. The costumes that is–the people wearing them I have no information about, RE: closets. I went as Joey Ramone because 99% of the costume is my wardrobe and wigs are fun.

(check out Lex’s polaroids from the party here)

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Also supposedly present in an official capacity were semi-DC natives The Bravery, as it was their “Official Afterparty,” for the Grown and Sexy segment of their fans who are not 17, I guess. The boys were DJing in dribbles, but never made a big appearance downstairs. Perhaps they were signing autographs upstairs and I missed it, but then so did some of the lost-looking people who had come directly from the early show at the 9:30, including one chick who insisted on calling me Slash until I wanted to throw a bucket of ketchup at her.

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The crowd was aimless until Be Your Own Pet came on at 11:30. They basically burst into flames and stayed lit for over an hour, falling down and flopping around, leaping into the somewhat alarmed crowd of semi-hipsters, blithely apologizing, and did I mention rolling around on the floor? This was the first show on a mini-tour, so they were clearly hyped-up, way over the heads of most of the audience who apparently just wanted a place to mush their sexy costumes on one another to hipster-house.

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Instead they got Jemina Pearl dressed up like a summer camp counselor hooting, shrieking and making Karen O-faces while the band tried to jam Nation of Ulysses into an MC5 album.
“Anyone who isn’t in costume tonight, FUCK YOU. Loosen up man, this is Halloween!”
she proclaimed. The kids in the back didn’t know what to do, but the front row was pretty much taking it to church in a big way.

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It’s a shame that their wasn’t more of a hardcore circle-pit twist-contest dance party inspired by their clangs and bangs, but BYOP’s rockathon made it well worth the effort of dragging one’s sorry ass less than ten blocks down the road in an unwieldy costume. I’d like to believe that if there wasn’t a cab strike more people would have traveled to Northeast in their robot box get-up to catch one of the sickest young bands around.

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