NOTE: I wrote this entry about seven weeks ago but didn't finish it - this was supposed to be a three-parter, also recounting my church retreat and wacky golf adventure in West Virginia. But given my stunning attentiveness to blogging these days, that's not going to happen. So here's to dropping your pencil and hoping for the best. -- GP

HALLOWEEN

It was hard to top last year's Halloween party, our first in the house, but I think we managed this year. A dedicated guy mixing drinks at the downstairs minibar, s'mores on the grill, and a constant live DJ. The outfits couldn't be matched: Tall Roommate was Brigham Young (at my suggestion), Fast Roommate was Stereotypical TV Reporter (eerily close to his real job), Hairy Roommate was Fat Monk (an encore), S was Go-Go Girl, and I was Pieman - Homer Simpson's alter ego and "pastry vigilante." And I took my costume very seriously, with multiple shopping trips: Target (blue top, cape - a red placemat), Ross (blue tights), Party City (face crayons and glitter to make the logo), and Safeway (a key lime pie, and a butchered pie plate for a mask that I gave up on wearing out of fear for my face). And I recycled my Eurotrash leather boots from 2005's Eurotrash party. The thing de resistance, as Homer would say, was the briefs outside my pants. Several gasps and mutterings starting with "what the..." followed my non-fluttering cape.

I couldn't believe how many times I had to explain who Pieman was. People thought I had just invented a superhero that fought injustice with a pie in the face. Does no one appreciate classic television like me? But they did appreciate the free pie (not floor pie, as you might have thought). Once someone dipped a finger in the cream (tagline: "Don't do the crime if you can't do the key lime"), several other fingers followed. And once someone creamed my nose (no jokes now), I had to cream several other noses, depending on how well I knew them. A few strangers took it well. Two girls from my main church small group (most attendees were from my old church) remained nose-creamed for the duration of the party, in solidarity with the First Creamed. And to my surprise, nobody seemed to be drinking much. Perhaps our costumes were so amusing that alcohol seemed superfluous. Two people without knowledge of each other came as Static Cling. How embarrassing.

See pictures here.

VAN HALEN CONCERT

As networking would have it, I got two free tickets to Van Halen's show in downtown Washington, and took a guy from my side small group (ex-church). We were directly to the left and a little in front of the stage in box seats. My main interest in the show was seeing David Lee Roth (aka Diamond Dave) one last time up close before he lost all his hair. Eddie turned out to be nearly as entertaining - it's insane what he's still doing on the guitar as an old man.

Ever since I saw his solo video for "California Girls," I've wanted to be Diamond Dave (at various, noncontiguous times). The 53-year-old is still the Goofy Showman, I suppose the Caddyshack of Hard Rock, or the entertainment precursor to Zack Morris and Van Wilder, my other two fake heros. He still has pretty much the same attitude now, but his reflexes have slowed a bit. The leg kicks are the most obvious casualty of age - he reserves them mostly for the beginning of songs and the end of more flourishy numbers. The leather pants probably limit his flexibility too, but his half-roundhouses are just about hip-level now - no chance of kicking his own head. DLR also appears to have quite a few hair plugs now. That's my guess, considering the last time I saw him - on stage with his original bandmates a decade ago at the MTV Video Music Awards - his scalp had little follicle company. I realized halfway through the show that DLR has the same haircut as Mary Lou Retton. They did hit their peak as celebrities at the same time, you know.

Missing a bass player, the band decided to bring Eddie's kid on tour to fill in, and it was an odd juxtaposition: Lean, shirtless EVH in camo pants, and his late-teen kid, chubby in a hoodie, playing competently but with no trace of his dad's acumen. Alex Van Halen showed off mostly his stamina in playing the same pattern of percussion during an extended solo where everybody else walked off. Eddie had his own solo stage performance for a good 20 minutes of weird, ear-piercing guitar, dragging his guitar as far as the cord would go (son Wolfgang was wireless).

If anyone worries about DLR's showmanship, rest assured, it's still there. My favorite moment, which sadly wasn't captured on my camera, featured DLR asking a woman in the front row for her cameraphone, then stuffing it down his pants and rubbing it around, between the legs and back out of his pants. I'm sure it was on eBay that night. He told a story, holding an acoustic guitar more than playing it while the band rested, about emptying out his friend's ice cream truck to store beer as a teen and passing the joint around. Those were the days. By night's end, he'd gone through three matching suits in different gaudy colors, and sported a top hat occasionally.

When the "Jump" finale finally came, DLR waved a giant red flag on the second level of the stage as the synth line began (backing track - no EVH tickling the fake ivories, to my consternation). Members of the band took turns jumping, not really "off" of anything but just in the air. In perhaps the best non-groin-related stunt of the night, DLR walked out on the front crescent of the stage, where the lucky attendees had a 360 degree view, and pulled a giant blow-up microphone - at least 20 feet long and five feet high - around the wowed fans, before riding the Giant Phallic Mic back to the main stage. Glitter dropped from the ceiling, DLR did one more hip-level half-roundhouse kick, and the exhilarating, deafening show was over.

I'll get pics and video up eventually but YouTube takes a helluva long time to upload.