The time Edvard Munch threw up on my face

My friend Ashley from work moonlights as a facepainter. When Barnes & Noble threw the Harry Potter VII Release Party earlier this summer, they hired her special. The line to have Ashley paint your face was literally 45 minutes long, which was cool because it gave the eleven-year-old hermiones time to decide if they wanted a phoenix feather or a snitch.

I was feeling the Harry Potter spirit that night and thought the best way to express my excitement would be through face art, but unfortunately after about a half an hour, the bastards at B&N shut the party down in preparation for actually bringing out the book.

A few weeks later, my friend Keri from work threw a Blades of Glory party. Do you see where I'm going with this? Since none of us actually had the ice-skating costumes we pretended to, we had to settle for reproducing Jimmy Mackelroy's peacock-inspired face paint. I know, you all wish you'd been invited.

Anyway, I made the mistake of telling Ashley to "surprise me." I have to admit, I was a little suspicious when (a) I could feel that her masterpiece was covering far more of my face than the tasteful fairy-swirls Keri had painted next to her eye, and (b) it took her over a half an hour. Anyway, I think it's pretty clear the girl has talent.

So, roommates, that's the true story of how I got The Scream painted on my face.