SF Is Full of Partypoopers

This morning I woke up 30 minutes earlier than usual so I would have time to do my makeup for tonight's Macabre Ball at Teatro ZinZombie. I won't have time to go home first so I did my best diva eyes at 7am and will touch up before I leave today. I brought my fab goth black-and-red Can Can skirt from Venice, black fishnets, my red suede faux Christian Laboutins and my gorgeous mask from my shopping spree in Venice and will change in the bathroom at 5:30 into a Venetian princess.

I am wearing my most extravagant Shu Uemura lashes to date:

I got on the train this morning and no one else was dressed for Halloween! Not even a teeny-tiny bit. One woman was wearing an orange scarf but that does not count, in my book.

Not even a drop of glitter to be seen! Come on, folks, this is San Francisco! We're supposed to be the trendsetters for the nation, at least in funky funny wierdness.

A few stops later a young man got on the train, dressed in a policeman's uniform, with boots and a fancy cap. But he was probably about 3 years old, holding his mom's hand. At least someone else had the Halloween spirit on Muni today!

Then I heard this conversation between the two men standing next to me:

Guy 1: Oh, Michael and I were going to go out tonight, but we changed our minds.
Guy 2: Oh, that's right. It's Halloween.
Guy 1: You can borrow my tiara if you want. I won't be using it.

Even guys in the Castro aren't dressing up! What, did George Bush win here, too? Jeez.

***
When I got to the bakery to get my morning's cinammon bun, the guy behind the counter was dressed as a sexy nurse, with a crazy blond wig, nurse's cap, white mini nurse's dress, white thigh-high fishets with red bows at the top, bright red lipstick, and a classic 5-o'clock shadow beard.

I told him he looked awesome and he smiled.

Thank god. I was starting to get worried.