Well hey, it’s about time I showed up again. I’ve been busy trying to figure out how to pull of the Mystery Costume perfectly, so that means a lot of time researching on the Internet, looking up patterns and figuring out how to take from them and modify to make my own patterns (because I never got a degree in Fashion & Design, just took the courses), and shopping around for bulk PVC. I think I have a source.

Anyway, after the worst month ever, February, it feels good to be getting back into the swing of things. Last Thursday and Friday Catwoman and I went out to the boulevard to work, and a lot happened in the relatively short time we were there.

Catwoman emailed me late Wednesday night to say that Denim was back. He had snuck back into town quietly and was already back on the boulevard with some improvements to his costume. She had wanted to work in the mornings, like we usually do, but I was going to a meetup for the LA Stories people on Zannel that night, so I wanted to work later. Besides, mornings just didn’t seem to be panning out. It takes me so long to get ready, mainly because I have to curl all my hair (the main reason I miss doing Padmé is because I could just slick my hair back into a bun, end of story), and business just never seemed that great. She decided she’d go to the Zannel meetup as well, and we’d just meet up to start working around 3 or so, to get in our usual 4 hours of work before the party started down the street.

We met up in the bathroom, our favourite hangout, and went out together. It had been a while, so it was a little weird, getting used to all the stares and comments stupid people think they’re saying sotto voce but are really nearly shouting (bad actors, all of you!), and the idiot teenagers who think loudly and hysterically cackling is a really clever dig at someone else. I shouldn’t be surprised, since they buy their originality at Hot Topic just like everyone else. Anyway, we go out to the street and head over to the Chinese Theatre to welcome back Jack. Catwoman hands me her camera.
“Here, I want to tape the reunion,” she said, and sashays over to Denim. They greet, I film it, and we talk for a bit before realizing that we should, you know, work. The tourists must have liked the odd combination of characters though, because they started requesting the three of us together, and we were getting pretty decent tips. Not too long afterward, a fellow took one picture with us and started rooting in his wallet.
“Oh, the hell with it,” he said, and hands us each a $20 bill. “You guys deserve it!” he insisted when we asked if he was sure. I mean, he didn’t seem drunk or high, but I feel like I should make sure someone knows how much money they’re parting with when they’re tipping that much.
“Okay, let’s go,” I laughed after the guy left. I didn’t think we were going to top that.
“No no, stick around!” Denim insisted. “Most characters make that mistake. Just ride the wave.”

But we were getting a little peckish, so Catwoman and I set off in search of something to eat. If it was going to be an open bar and I had to drive, I at least wanted food in my belly so I wouldn’t get tipsy right away. We had breakfast for dinner (the best time to have breakfast!), and came back out to a noticeably colder boulevard. A long queue was forming for Jimmy Kimmel, and different sorts of people were starting to come out. We didn’t make any more big tips that night, but it was still a good per-hour rate for the short time we were there. At 6 Denim went home to change and shower and we went down to our cars to change, because I said there was no way in hell we were going to be the only idiots in costume, even if that’s how most of the Zannelers knew us. Also, we were going to walk the 9 blocks to Joseph’s Cafe, and I didn’t want to walk Hollywood Boulevard at night in costume, especially leaving after the party.

At 6:45 we reunited in front of the Chinese and set off. The party was fun, really relaxed, just a bunch of Angelinos hanging out, drinking and eating Freshly Baked cookies from Cookieguy. I made a little video montage of the whole day and posted it here, if you’re interested. Kind of disappointing, to me anyway, but at least I figured out how to keep Homeless Jack away from me. I really hate that guy. Denim got drunk, but I didn’t get that on tape.

Friday we were doing other things in the morning and afternoon, so we didn’t get out to the boulevard until 6 or so. As I was coming up from the parking garage Catwoman texted me: “Quick. New Superman.” Wha? I had to see this! So I hurried out, skipping the long bathroom line even though I really had to pee, and came out to find her talking to, yes, a new Superman. As you’ve seen from the pictures, he’s young, naturally buff, and here’s something you can’t pick up: he’s actually really, really nice. Completely normal, especially for working on the boulevard, and really down to earth. Shortly after introducing ourselves his girlfriend materialized and gave us his business cards, and he said he had his own party company, and seemed interested in taking us on. Hey, we’ve got a bad economy state-wide and nationwide, I won’t turn up my nose at possibly $100 cash for an hour’s work.

Anyway, we hung out with him and worked together, doing pretty good for the really short amount of time we were out (about an hour and a half), and he talked about Superman — the original boulevard one we always talk about. Apparently, Super Guy, as I will now call him, befriended Superman on MySpace and got to talking. He said he’d seen Confessions and was a fan, and he would like to try his hand on the boulevard as Superman. Old Superman, who had been so friendly before, suddenly turned nasty and cussed Super Guy out. I’m not surprised. Instead of being cowed, Super Guy said, “Alright, fuck him,” and did it anyway. Bat M saw Super Guy out and apparently called Superman, who came by shortly afterwards in street clothes to check out the competition.
“Did he start anything with you?” I asked. I will never forget the Bleach Incident.
“Nope, didn’t say anything. He just walked by,” Super Guy said.
“He probably figured he couldn’t take you,” I laughed.
“That’s probably it,” he agreed. “He knows he can’t push me around.”
“Good! There’s room for both of you, and there isn’t a damn thing he can do to you anyway.” Free market, baby.

A little after eight we were all freezing, though, and the crowd had thinned out a little bit. Probably transitioning between the tourists and the scary, cracky Hollywood nightlife. There was an underage kid walking around with a hot pink sandwich board advertising “escorts and massages,” which was really disturbing. Time to go. We say goodbye to Super Guy and his girlfriend, happy that there’s a new cool, sane guy to work with, and head for home.

Sunday Super Guy called us both and mentioned working Tuesday. He left me a voicemail and I’ve lost his card (hopefully it’s still in the car and I just missed it the last time I looked for it), but I’m game for working. I feel like I haven’t been out there in ages and the people at Zannel are clamoring for more superhero action. Are you?