HLLWN 2009, or the night I walked around New York City in my underwear

Here it is at last - the HLLWN 2009 post. I kind of mislead y'all, having told you I was gonna be Lady Gaga. While that is true, the whole story is that Z went as Freddie Mercury from Queen, so together, we went as Radio Gaga, which, in case you aren't aware, is the Queen song that Lady Gaga's manager named her after. And it's just one more piece of evidence that Lady Gaga is my soulmate, because I grew up listening to and adoring Queen. I went through a big phase in high school where all I listened to was Queen. I sang along in my car with Freddie as he belted out Somebody To Love, Another One Bites The Dust, and the lesser known (but just as amazing) Body Language. Loves it.

Anyway, our costumes were the shit. Z looked just like Freddie. And together, we were the most over-the-top, fabulous and subtly pretentious HLLWN pair in all of NYC. Of couse, we took video of the entire night, and it is by far the best And How NYC video Z has created yet.



We started off the night at our friend's house party in Brooklyn, where an impromptu photo shoot broke out, thanks to the über-talented Jenny Anderson.
























































































We spent a little time at our friend's apartment, then we went upstairs and crashed some other party. I have no idea whose apartment it was or why we thought it was acceptable to barge in and take over their iPod, but we did. We played a few Gaga songs and then scurried away to Sugarland, our favorite gay club in Brooklyn.
















It was there that we saw a 7-foot-tall Cruella Deville, and decided to pose for photos with her/him/it. The night was filled with lots of amazing decisions such as this.












































This is the most New York-ian photo of me ever taken. We're essentially in the basement of this grungy gay club in Brooklyn, it's sort of smoky, there's a brick wall and a discarded/lost umbrella, and I'm dressed as Lady Gaga, who sort of based her career on getting wasted in NYC.






















OK so I'm shamelessly including this photo because I look really skinny in it. Work.
















Next, we left the club and had an impromptu paparazzi shoot in the street. I love this photo.

















And this one. You can kind of see where the back of Z's tank says "Radio Gaga," spelled out in rhinestones, natch.






















Then we headed back to Manhattan, where we closed a bar in the East Village. The whole night, my hair bow kept falling off my head into God knows what kinds of substances on the sidewalk, in the bars and in the subway stations. This is how I felt about it.






















RIP hair bow.






















I feel like I should include this photo, just to prove that I did in fact have a disco stick. I just, you know, walked out of the apartment without it*. Whoops.






















So don't become some background noise,
A backdrop for the girls and boys
Who just don't know or just don't care
And just complain when you're not there,
You had your time, you had the power
You've yet to have your finest hour...

Here's hopin'.

*In my defense, before we left for the night, I spent FOUR HOURS bedazzling that bra, and my brain was dead. That's right, before I Krazy glued all those rhinestones on, it was just a boring black bra. No one can say I'm not dedicated.