WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE...

I have a friggin' closet full of clothes, and still I find myself almost daily standing in front of it unable to pick out an outfit. Hell, I actually have two closets full of clothes, and I have difficulty finding anything I want to wear. I've stood there, utterly baffled and simultaneously disgusted; I've actually yelled, "I have nothing to wear!" And that's just not true. I have two closets, a dresser, and a bookshelf (yes, a bookshelf) full of clothes. And yet, I seem to hate everything I own. Getting dressed has always taken me forever, but now it's almost impossible.

And today it's even worse because what I really need just isn't in the closet. You see, I've been invited to a Halloween party and I don't have a costume. (My friend and co-star from "Ten Lives," Michael Silva, moved to L.A. a few years ago and thoughtfully invited to me to his soiree; he thought it would be a great way for me to meet new friends.) Like Jamie Lee without a good push-up (or a weapon), I'm absolutely useless. What am I going to do? Originally I was really excited about the party. But the fact that I don't know any of these people yet changes things; it adds so much pressure. If I show up as Paris Hilton or Elmo what would that say about me? Plus, if my face is full of make-up...okay, full of more make-up, how will they know what I even look like? Oh, the pressure! I just can't take it!

Normally these issues aren't a concern at all for me at Halloween. I'll slap a pound of cover-up and a Frederick's Of Holywood teddie on anytime. No excuses, no explanations. (And not much prodding, either.) But this is like my Debutante Ball, my Coming Out into Hollywood society. It's a big deal; right? Okay, maybe not as important as the election that's 7 days away, the ultra-repugnant Foley/Page scandal, or the big tadoo last week over whether Hillary did or did not actually have a face lift. But it's imortant to me. So, just like when Jamie went out and bought herself some boobies, I decided to take myself shopping.

Now, tell me, where in Hollywood does one go to get a really good costume? Hmmm...I decided to head straight to Paramount Studios. Hell, I only live a few blocks away; so why not? I thought it was a great idea, but apparently the security guard didn't, even after I explained my whole debutante conflict thingy. So, I left the mightily protected walls and palms of Paramount for better (and safer) shopping. I actually headed straight to Hollywood Boulevard which, contrary to popular belief, isn't very sheik. It's full of tourist traps, dive bars, and - yes - costume shops! (It also happens to be host to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, replete with all of those lovely stars - Jamie Lee Curtis included.)

I went to Hollywood Costume which is like the Home Depot of costumes, props, and wigs. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. It was like a gay man's paradise (except Terrence Howard and Seal weren't there; neither, to my surprise, was Harvey Fierstein). So I ran up the aisles like George W. Bush looking for his conscience. Only I was having a lot more fun. If only they had dressing rooms; but they didn't. You had to buy on the spot; and no returns either, so make sure you're sure. I meandered, wandered, and coveted for what seems like hours. (Wait a minute. I was in there for hours! I realized this when I got back to my car and had a friggin' parking ticket. Shit. That's my fifth one since I moved here.) But at least I did I finally find the perfect costume. Nothing with make-up; nothing too freaky; nothing that will make me look fat. I decided to go as an Angel with Priority Problems - he can't decide if he wants to be good or bad. (Something I can actually relate to, so I won't have to ask: What's my motivation?) I bought these great Barbarella wings, along with horns and a tail. I'm going to wear them with white semi-see-through pants and a tank top, with just a touch of glitter. It's not going to get me an Emmy; but it did satisfy the bizarre technical requirements I had this year; and it's going to get me into the party. Which is a good thing.