First, we bloodied up the shirt by pouring some of the fake blood into what looks like half of an old oil lamp and we poured it down the front of the shirt, wiping off any excess with paper towel. After the first pour or two, I dunked some paper towel in the blood and started patting down some touch up spots.
I stained it a bit more yesterday and this is what I've got.
The next thing we did was muck up the pants. The original idea was to throw them around in dirt and shake off the excess so only the stains remained, but that quickly escalated from rubbing pants in a patch of dirt then whipping them against some pavement to "lets hang them out the window of a car and make them scrape across the pavement as we drive!".
Yup. That actually happened. I hopped in the car, with Tracy hanging out of the window holding the pants so they drooped on the street and I hit the gas. Well, more like delicately pressed the gas pedal with the aggressiveness and power of a dandelion. 20 km/h was the critical speed. Any faster and the pants would lift up and just fly in the wind. We scuffed up the bottom half and decided to flip them upside down to work on the top half, but as we started moving, Tracy accidentally dropped the pants and I ran them over. Wicked.
|It's tough to make it out, but they look like I made my way through a Die Hard movie.|
|Ladies, hold your orgasms.|
After the blood fiasco, I stepped outside to rub my shirt around in dirt to get it grimy as well. A small cluster of elderly people walked by me. It was super awkward.
I've only got tomorrow to finalize everything for Fan Expo. I'm thinking of only wearing the face blood around for the first half of the Expo (until I eat lunch). Then instead of reapplying it, I'll just clean it up and carry on.
That's all for now, folks! Party 'til you puke.