“Hey, wanna go Goth skating?”

One Monday per month, a rink located off Venice has all-ages “Goth skating.” Yes, it is actually called that. And, yes, I’m not a Goth, but I can totally play one in the movie that is my life. Thus, when Dusty offered to let me tag along, I was, like, so totally in. We then made plans to meet beforehand for hair and makeup.

Dusty wore fishnets on her legs. I wore them on my arms. Certainly, this sort of disguise would prevent the Goths from detecting our faux-Gothness. If we had taken a photo, I might link to it here in order to prove our Gothnicity to you. Too bad we were too busy living our lives to take pictures.

Dusty did, however, re-create our ensembles for you via her amazing drawing skills.

Notice her plaid skirt and arm warmers and my sweet camo, boy surfer-cut shorts with arm-cut, lacey-fishnets. There was a lot of black involved in both outfits. Beyond that, I had on dark eye makeup and I look a little evil anyway, so I was set: My ensemble was definitely Goth enough to fool the Goth Police, who could potentially be waiting by the door. (Or scowling from the corners.) On the way to the rink we stopped at a Starbucks in Hollywood because Goths love hot chocolate (true story) and I was trying to get into character. We didn’t remember until we were already entering the store that we were dressed “so crazy” and therefore might look like freaks.

Yeah right, no problem: We fit right in. I mean come on this is Hollywood, people.

I will admit that I was the preppy Goth, so I didn’t look that freakish. I think my hair was too clean. Meanwhile, at the rink, there was a chick-couple who doused themselves in fake-blood (a little inconsiderate if you ask me: that shit was sticky and got everywhere), and there was a person wearing a huge white nightgown and white wig who skated around while clutching a teddy bear. We later discovered that it was a male. (The person, not the bear.) Not to mention the girl skating around in a straight jacket (she sucked) or the Goth with the fairy wings (sweet).

We skated five bajillion miles, said “like” too much to be for reals dark side, played air hockey and complained about the music, which was less NIN (as promised) and more techno-song-you-have-never-heard-before-and-never-want-to-hear-again.

I’m only writing about this because I want it to be known far and wide that I could totally work at Hot Topic.

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