I met Vagina Man last night. Yep, it’s true. Who, you may ask, is Vagina Man? Let me explain.

Halloween in the West Village is a complete and utter zoo. It’s basically the lyrics to Ten Years After’s “I’d Love to Change the World” come to life: “Everywhere is freaks and hairies – Dykes and fairies, tell me where is sanity.”

So Mrs. Dynamite and I are out walking amongst the throng of revelers, with me carrying Oscar in the BabyBjorn carrier (don’t even ask), and he’s wearing his Ewok hood, looking insanely cute, just like an Ewok.

There was the usual quota of slutty cops, slutty football players, slutty firewomen, slutty schoolgirls, slutty sluts, slutty referees, slutty cowgirls, slutty Little Bo Peeps, slutty Tinkerbells, slutty rock stars and slutty Catwomen. Gotta love Dress Like a Whore Day.

Two doucheballs dressed as the Super Mario Brothers walk past us, and ten feet behind them are two more guys who also look kinda like the poor man’s Super Mario Brothers. One of these guys is wearing a little fake moustache, and a white terry cloth cape, with a big V emblazoned on it. He’s strutting kinda like Ric “The Nature Boy” Flair, and hamming it up.

I give him an inquisitive eyebrow, wordlessly conveying the sentiment “What the fuck are you dressed as?” He looks right at me, and in a mock Superhero voice, booms, “Vagina Man,” before twirling his cape with a Zoro-esque flourish and moving off into the throng. I was impressed, laughing loudly, as I regretted not pulling out my camera to provide evidence for my eager throngs of bloggers who will now be left tossing and turning sleeplessly at night wondering exactly what Vagina Man looked like. I apologize.

I know some of you are also disappointed that Vagina Man has nothing to do with The Bracelet, or Joe Speaker, who were both likely candidates for the moniker. I have to give the Bracelet props for being the only one to fully appreciate my 9 inch pie crust story.

until next time,
KD