Paul Constant

It's almost impossible to leave the house this weekend and not run into a Halloween party. There are parties that double as going-away parties—in Belltown, a couple is leaving, he to Argentina and she to Colombia. Their party includes a professional bartender—an overworked man with a high tolerance for stupid drinks. Someone confused the bar for a bakery: "I want two chocolate cakes and an oatmeal cookie." The bartender shrugs and pours.

We leave our impending drug mules and head to a housewarming Halloween party near Green Lake. This party has some fine costumes—there's a mail-order bride, Ash from Army of Darkness (complete with chainsaw hand), and a female K-Fed with a preggers Britney. The best couple's-costume prize of the year, though, has to go to the spinach-and—E. Coli combo.

Elsewhere, there's a World of Jim Henson party. My Plus One and I nearly have to dodge as a man dressed as Lew Zealand threatens to pelt us with fish. The best costume of the weekend arrives—a woman dressed as Gonzo. Instead of the curly-cue nose, though, she's wearing a big blue dildo on her face.

In Ballard, a woman is throwing a Halloween block party because "I'm tired of not knowing my neighbors," she says. Afterward, someone hugs her and says that she's planted the seeds of something great here. People who live a few feet away from each other have finally—finally—gotten to know each other, and isn't that the point of Halloween? Well, that and getting 'faced? Either way: mission accomplished.

Want to slurringly inform The Stranger "You don't need to interview him, he doesn't even have a real head!" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to