Hallow's End Costumes

I was kind of looking forward to Hallow's End. The treats. The tricks. The kiddies, throwing eggs at the Alliance. It's a great time of year. But one of the best things about it is the chance to dress up in fabulous costumes. That was what I was looking forward to the most.

But my excitement didn't last long. The array of costumes bestowed on me by the innkeepers left something to be desired. I didn't even BOTHER taking photos of the little demon robot they turned me into, nor the little wormy thing. Too embarrassing! And what's with turning me into a kitten? I mean, please.

I did, however, capture this oft-seen phenomenon - the pumpkinhead:

Even though you can't see my face, you can guess how amused I am by this.

And bat form? Not really sure that suits me either.

But if you want something really bad, look at the outfit I picked up from the innkeeper at K3:

Umm. Now just what is that supposed to be? A ninja who's been in a fight with someone wielding a samurai sword and had half of her clothing hacked off? A pirate wearing a bandit mask so she won't get caught raiding the till at a strip club? A thief who distracts her mark with a clever display of pasty muffin top that blinds them while she steals their watch?

Awful. Pirate Ninja Ho costume. It's like Lady Slyvanas is having a Hen Do and this was what we had to wear.

And look at this - the rear view:

As if it wasn't bad enough as an outfit, the cheap fabric this costume is made out of is actually hugging some kind of cellulite situation! As you can see, Konlos is leaving a few extra paces between me and him. He always tell me to love myself the way I am, but Hallow's End costumes just do NOT seem to be an improvement on my usual look and there's no hiding from it.

Barf.

An audience with the Headless Horseman

In between appointments to terrorise villages in WoW starting areas, we managed to catch up with the darling of the Hallow's End season, the Headless Horseman himself.

Bellzebelle: Good afternoon, Headless. Is it all right if I call you Headless?

Headless Horseman: You call me Headless because that's my name, but I prefer Mister Horseman, if it's all the same.

BB: Right. Mister Horseman it is. I'm loving the armour. Who's your blacksmith?

HH: I get my plate from this chap I know, an armour maker down Savile Row. He does fine work but I have to say, his colour palettes make me look a bit gay.

BB: A bit gay? Well there's nothing wrong with being gay, Mister Horseman. This is the modern age. Besides, I think pale purple really suits you. Anyway, let's move on. What are your thoughts on sinister squashlings?

HH: They make funny noises, they follow me about - and if I'm honest, they creep me out. With his spindling vines and his gappy smile - I think mine might be a paedophile.

BB: You think your pumkpin is a paedophile? Mister Horseman, you do have some very odd views. Plus, there's the whole speaking in rhymes thing. What's with that?

HH: Ever since my childhood days, I've found myself speaking in flowery ways. I love to rhyme and play with words - course not as much as I like chasing birds.

BB: What are you talking about?

HH: You may be a poet and just don't know it.

BB: What - me? I don't think so.

HH: You do yourself down, you shouldn't be shy - you may not rhyme but you've caught my eye.

BB: Are you hitting on me?

HH: With your platinum hair, you're a fetching Belf - you'd make a fine wench for such as myself. HAHAHAHAHA!!

BB: Now, Mister Horseman. I know that I am one of Azeroth's most eligible single ladies and no one blames you for trying. And I'm sure many less educated ladies have fallen for the questionable charm of your somewhat cheesy verse. But I have certain standards I look for in a man. And one of them is... you know... that he must have a head.

HH: I have no head, but I have a helm, and his craft as a suitor will not underwhelm. I've been torturing animals all of my life - that can't last forever, it's time for a wife. Come with me, ride into the dawn and we will create our headless spawn!

BB: Are you serious? Oh my god this interview is so over.

Someone get this guy a coffee.

What is with this Lich King guy? Did he never get that Gadgetzan Electric Train he always wanted as a kid? Are his underwear made out of platemail? Did his local apothecary run out of happy pills? Did his parents like his older sister better than they liked him? Has he got a lot of acne under that helm?

He's all, Kill everything that moves, the light has abandoned you, spare no one, blah blah blah.

I think Mrs Lich King needs to bake him a nice apple pie and give him a good seeing to.

My thoughts on certain inhabitants of Northrend

Rats should not exist.

But if they must exist, they definitely shouldn't swim.

Shopping with Aaxen

He is titled, Aaxen the Argent Champion. But I can think of some other titles for him.

Aaxen with the Sidecar. Awarded to him for services to off-road motorbiking. This is a man who will drive off a cliff and put the bubble around you so you don't die - even if it means dying himself. A man so intrepid, that even after such calamity, he still only responds, 'lol'.

Aaxen the Assassin. Awarded for services in arenas. Namely, letting me summon beasts which he mostly kills, then instructing me to go and collect my rewards from the quest giver with the noble phrase 'Keep em coming'. I have adorned myself with at least two very impressive staves owing to this man's methods. And there's nothing cuter than a girl wielding a weapon that's bigger around than she is. Send your messages of gratitude to Aaxen.

Personal Shopper Aaxen. Awarded for services to shopping. When you want to hit the boutiques, this is the man you want as your bodyguard. Speaking the words every blood elf longs to hear - 'Let's get you some gloves' - he is happy to take me through the same dungeon five times in a row, when he already outlevels the drops, just to see if he can get me the whole set. The man does not tire easily. It is like Gok Wan in Dorothy Perkins when they don't have your size.

Aaxen Claus. Awarded for services to goodies in the post. I complain that levelling jewelcrafting is a bitch? Aaxen asks for my spec, then forty bars of mithril turn up in the post so I can make filigree and move up in the world. Season's greetings, Aaxen strikes again.

It's good to have a posse to roll with. Three cheers for Aaxen!

Let's clear this up.

I am aware that this photograph of me at Brewfest has emerged. Looking at it, any observer might be forgiven thinking that I am acting as a serving wench, paired up with an orc with tribal tattoos straight out of the 90s and a horn growing directly out of his head. And you may ask yourself, what kind of company is Bee keeping, and why would she subjugate herself to common bar work, serving orc ales at Brewfest?

Allow me to shed some light on the situation.

Now, I am a very charitable woman. Yes, I like killing things, which might seem violent. And yes, I also like jewelcrafting, which might seem elitist. But I also like to give something back. There were children at Brewfest, as it was a family event, and I was very struck by the plight of the orc babies I saw. It is already too late for the full-grown orc you see pictured beside me - he has already come through his painful childhood, and grown up to be terribly ugly, and he is dealing with that handicap with enormous inner strength. (And of course, outer strength, judging by the fact his biceps are as big around as my waist.)

But it is not too late for us to help the orc babies. With a little bit of plastic surgery, a strict diet and sixteen years of oppressive socialisation in single-sex blood elf boarding schools, orcs can grow up to find a home on the fringes of sort of lower class society instead of being total outcasts. It is within our power to bring this comfort to these young orcs! We must not ignore them.

For that reason, I ran a charity bar at Brewfest selling orc ales, and all tips collected in the stein you see in the photograph - as well as a portion of all profits - is going to Beelzebelle's Overdisciplined-but-Necessary Single Sex Boarding School for Poor Ugly Orc Babies.

We raised a good sum on the day through our efforts. But I was never doing this for publicity. I know in my heart that I am a sort of Mother Teresa/Princess Di type figure for a lot of Blood Elfdom, so I just did this to give something back. However with the emergence of this photograph, I thought it was best to clarify exactly what was happening. I was just being saintly. Not fraternising with orcs.

I mean, gross.

A title...

I see people around Northrend with fancy titles... You know, Ambassador This and Keeper of That, So-and-so of Undercity. And I thought now that's something I need. A title. Maybe something like Princess Beelzebelle or Beelzebelle, Queen of Style and Decorum of all of Azeroth, or similar. And then once I had earned my place in the hearts of my people, they would come to know affectionately as 'Queen Bee' which really would look nice in print on the cover of all the Silvermoon society magazines.

'Queen Bee opens her home to us: The Silvermoon Tatler takes honeymint tea with the blood elf who defined fashion for a generation of Sunwell worshippers.'

*sigh*

I mentioned this to my guild and they said there were lots of titles I could get. I asked them which was the easiest, because I wanted one sooner rather than later - it's a little embarassing just running around unadorned with any kind of status. And they said they'd help me get one.

They took me to this room with a bunch of eggs in it and aggravated all of the baby whelps, then got me in to help burn them all up in one go. It was good fun and it did earn me a title for having distinguished myself in battle against a bunch of baby dragons through the use of a somewhat questionable strategy.

Titled after a man who shouts his own name as a battle cry.

Ah yes. Jenkins. I now have a title that is really more of a surname. It sounds like a 1950s family name from an American sitcom. Oh that Leroy Jenkins next door, he's always trying to outdo me by planting bigger azaleas than mine! The hilarity. Whatever will that Jenkins do next.

This is probably not exactly what I had in mind. It may actually be time to put my nose down and do some reputation grinding.

Brewfest Roundup

First decision of Brewfest: there will not be any need to attire myself in the spirit of the occasion.

Here I am, trying to get this hottie wine connoisseur's attention, and all he can do is stare moodily into the middle distance lost in thoughts about fermentation. Blood elf men are so inaccessible.

So it's not exactly an elegant mount, but when there's a chance to have a baby pink elephant as a pet, a girl does what a girl's gotta do. Even ram riding.

Just when you think orcs can't get any uglier, they break out the leiderhosen and prove you wrong.

And... ditto for the undead. Shorts are a bad idea when you don't actually have skin.



And you! You're just a freak.

And here he is! The best part of Brewfest. Pink pachyderm! I think I'm in love.

You hugged a dead guy?

I'm not sure that's cool.

Overheard in Guildchat

Spotted: Alexstrasza the Life-Binder

Where do I begin?

Waist to hip ratio - check.

Awesome tan - check.

Fully co-ordinated outfit, complete with accessories - check.

Superhero cape - check.

Glowing eyes - check.

And... totally amazing hat with horns on it - check, check, and did I mention check.

Actually, it stands to reason that a class of creatures who breathe fire would choose someone this totally HOT to be their queen. When you think 'Queen of the Dragons', you don't really expect a minger, do you? This bitch knows how to dress. I can sense a new BBF in the vicinity.

They're still watching

So the last time I thought I'd have a crafty one, WoW's observation 'You love skunk' took me by surprise. I had snuck into the woods out by Shattrath very discreetly, sparked up and then there it was: evidence that Big Brother is always watching.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I picked a new hiding place - this time in Northrend. I got my 'herbalism supplies' from a Tauren in a really remote part of the country. And just to make extra double sure, I even donned a disguise.

Tri-corn with skull & crossbones, low-cut peasant blouse plus sprayed-on britches? Totally inconspicuous. I should have been completely anonymous.

But no sooner did I settle in and my information feed let me know that, not only did it know what I was up to, but it even knew what variety that Tauren had sold me.

Nothing like stating the obvious. Next, it will be informing me that I love new boots, brewfest and choppers.

Gremlin

Someone really should not have fed this creature after midnight.

And a bottle of ...

While I do, like anyone, really get into the idea of shouting YaRRRrrrr and drinking rum with impunity, I must admit there was something about Pirate Day that was bothering me.

You see, whenever I think it will be a good idea to play pirate and have one of those savoury delight thingys or whatever they are, I'm disappointed. Because it doesn't just turn me into a pirate - it turns me into a human. Euuww. Chunky thighs, boring ears, meaty hands. Ugh. It's just awful. You know, I picture myself looking hot like Geena Davis in Cutthroat Island but instead I end up just looking like some Alliance loser in a pirate suit.

For that reason, I made a rather ambivalent journey from Northrend, where I was merrily killing captives, to Booty Bay, where the pirate festivities were waiting. But when I arrived, I saw something amazing - a dranei loping past, her knees bending backwards - dressed as a pirate! Could it be... that they were going to just give me a new outfit? And that I could still be my incredibly fine Belf Self? Just with a little sprinkling of yo ho ho?

Oh yes. It was true. Now, everyone loves a pirate. But everyone really loves a pirate when they look like this:

Hmm, do these pirate leggings make my butt look big?

Nope. Just hawt.

In fact, even my icon has turned all sleek. And Bitterdue's is.... ermm, yes. Hi Bitterdue.

So now I'm really enjoying Pirate Day. And to celebrate, I think I'll go kill Onyxia with the guild. Watch out, dragonbreath. Pirate hotties are coming to get you. YaRRrrr!

Watch out for those claws

A large but fairly easy kill. Crabcakes marinated in mana, anyone?

Fashion Police: Pahu Frosthoof

Pahu. Darling. Now I know that your supplies might be limited - you do seem to have a backyard full of robotic gnomes and silithids. But you can order online from Karen Millen these days! There really is no reason you have to live this way.

Let's start from the bottom up - because then we can start on a positive note. I like your pedicure. Hooves are obviously not ideal, but you've used what you've got. You've got them buffed, silver and shiny. Looking good.

I don't hate the leafy hem. But with a statement hem like that, you would've needed to go subdued on the rest of the outfit. And you most definitely have not done that.

Firstly the skirt. Is that a skirt, actually? Because that looks like a quilt. As a textile, it's not really meant for apparel, is it? Furthermore, it appears to be coming up a little short. I feel like I am seeing something in between your 'skirt' and your belt... and I really don't want to bring this up but is that the top of your cow minge? Because no one wants to see that.

The belt is fine and actually I do quite like your waistcoat/corset thingy. It's a good colour on you, although you could probably with going a size or two up because it looks like it doesn't really quite close. If you were a sexy blood elf, you could get away with showing off some flesh, but, as a Tauress, you need to play to your strengths. Strengths like... emm..... you have very pretty eyes, Pahu.

Now what is with the bright yellow drag queen feather boa? Are you a transvestite about to do a Boy George medley? Or are you in a war? That garment is not suitable for healing or hanging out at the lodge - it is not even really fit for anything apart from a Oscars accessory for Bjork.

I almost don't want to talk about your hair. It's like you have a mullet that you plaited into a Pocahontas look. So you are, like, Redneck Pocahontas when she is on her way to a hen night that is taking place at a drag show but she couldn't find a skirt so she stole one off her baby's bed and paired it up with a size-too-small corset?

Pahu. *tut*

Spotted on top of a mushroom in Zangermarsh

Sometimes I do wonder what the designers at Blizzard have been smoking. 

Photo by: Bitterdue

My first raid

My first raid with PCG - Blackwing Lair! How exciting. It sounds so goth. 

So I had to make sure that I packed carefully. I donned my war helm so that I would look all serious about the raid. I have five bags and I thought I'd better make sure that their contents would give me the edge to make the event a successful one.

I made sure to stock plenty of low fat food - I like grilled fish for maximum energy without piling on the pounds. Of course I need mana but that seal whey is just going to go straight for my hips, so Morning Glory Dew it is. And naturally  I stocked up on all kinds of diet potions and elixirs. There is nothing glam about fainting on duty.

I had to bring some flat boots for practicality, but also I had to use a couple of slots for some high heels and some bling strappies - I mean what if I ran into one of my exes? Then of course I needed a cloak because I hearth to Borean Tundra, but when you're dancing with dragons you need to be able to peel off, so it was all about dressing in layers. There goes at least another two bags.

It goes without saying that I needed a whole bag for my little pet hatchling and all her accessories, you know, her cute collar that says 'sexy bird' all in diamantes, and her organic special reserve pumpkin seeds hand-farmed by pixies and her South American pan flute music - she likes to feel at home wherever we are.

There is so much to think about when you're raiding. I mean it's not just about how you dress people - if you're a warlock you need shards. I can't believe how much space they take up though! One slot each, I mean is it too much to ask to have stacks for these? I had to leave my hair tongs, tiger-striped tights, spare belts, neck scarves, travel foot spa and Grazia magazine ALL behind in the bank. It totally killed my buzz. I cleared out a whole backpack for those shards, and to make matters worse they are definitely in last season's pink, I mean what if I had been run over by an out-of-control herd of Shoveltusks - the paramedics would have found those in my bag and got completely the wrong idea about my sense of colour. Mortifying thought.

But I made the sacrifice for my guild. I'm a team player. There's no Bee in team. Remember that. 

While we were assembling the party I fashion-spotted this fellow Guildie and I have to say this is a fine example of What to Wear on any outing in Azeroth:

Virivanas. You fox! Purple and green! You are so bold. My god I am afraid of your amazing aloofness already. Those boots are so on-trend with the leggings tucked in. You're working the cloak and the Inspector Gadget chic on the hat. And you topped it all off with J.Lo hoop earrings! Work it in front of those dragons girlfriend. You are a fine example for any Blood Elf who wants to raid in style.

So the fighting. Oh yeah. I got through a lot of it without a hair out of place, thanks to the fine treatment of my guild. As a warlock with summoning powers I was a total VIP and they were all saying all the time, 'Don't let Bee die' and it was pretty much like being Madonna. Except in a dungeon. Oh wait but actually Madonna is probably in dungeons quite a lot. So actually - it was just like being Madonna.

We tanked. We spanked. I got lots of little goody bags. At one point there was a lull in the action and all the guys in my guild got out their little baby animal pets. It was so cuute!

I have to be honest, the decor in Blackwing Lair left a little  bit to be desired and it was quite musty and dark - these dragons do need to work on their ambience some. Even so, they fought well. But we fought harder. Right up until the end.

Mister big boss daddy dragon with the mondo halitosis problem had us all cowering behind a throne for safety. And I am not kidding, I'm SURE that I felt a Tauren groping my ass. So I moved to the side a bit just to get away from the bovine sex pest when WHAM, smacked down with firebreathing. Oops. We wiped. We changed tactics. We stayed out in the open. We died again. Turns out I would have been better with the creepy Tauren weirdo behind the throne. 

Before we could have a third go, I was hit with the awful realisation that I'd run out of shards. My guild were all like, bollocks, failsauce, oh no!  And I was all guys, I'm totally sorry. But really I hope they understand how I had to save room in my bags for my high heels and my pet bird's diamante necklace. I'm sure they get it. 

I've learned a lot. Not to leave the high heels behind, obviously. Just that next time, I'll make sure I have bigger bags.

Debbie Harry: Am I Belf?

'Dear Beelzebelle,

I'm in a band. I have the kind of coiff that, when other people wear it it just looks like bedhead, but on me it looks like what I like to call 'sex hair'. When my stylist comes round before a show, she's like Debbie, do you want the up-do or the curls or the sex hair, and I'm always like, the sex hair please. When I'm singing, I always look like I'm drifting off, thinking of Northrend. You know, or guitars. Or punk things that you really wouldn't understand.

If there was an Olympic Gold Medal for pouting, I would win it. Keira Knightley would get silver probably, which only goes to show just how big my margin of winning would be - she is like an adolescent boy and really I mean the girl has NELF written all over her. And I don't know who would get bronze but whoever she is I could kick her ass.

I believe that at age 64 it is still totally appropriate to wear hotpants. Sure, if you're Kylie, it's no big deal but I am wearing these babies and I am doing it for the sistas. I've never been able to rap, but I'm not above giving it a go, and basically I am so resplendent with coolness that nobody thinks to point it out.

I have cheekbones. I have logo T shirts. I will pose for photographs wearing those two things and little else.

As far as I know, all of the above makes me Belf, right?

Don't keep me hanging on the telephone,

Coeur_de_Verre'


Dear Coeur_de_Verre,

OMG you are so Belf. Debbie Harry, is that you?

Call me sometime.

luv,

Bee xx

Devotion to the Horde

'Dear Beelzebelle,  Do you like my tattoo? From HordeGirl79'

Dear HordeGirl79,

Yes I do like your tattoo. It makes it clear for all to see that you are a woman of substance, and it is set off very nicely by your rather elven coiffure.

But girlfriend - what is with those wooden earplug thingys? Honey they make you look like a troll. May I recommend Tiffany's?

luv

Beelzebelle xx

The A-list

As you can see, I made the most of my bank holiday by rocking out onstage at Shattrath's World's End pub with the band formerly known as Level 70 Tauren Chieftain. Isn't it terrible when an expansion renders your hard-deliberated band name obsolete?

They needed a little touch of female glamour in their set and I knew them from the old band studios down an alley in Orgrimmar, so they invited me to freshen up their show. I busted some moves, joined briefly by Haris Pilton, who was pulled offstage by security after demonstrating to all of Outland's papparazzi that she didn't believe in knickers. 

Some NPCs just have no class.

Kerry Katona: Am I Belf?

Sometimes celebrities will get in touch wanting to know if they are 'Belf'. It's difficult to quantify just what it is that makes us so cool, so desirable and so welcome at all the best parties. The true essence of 'Belf' is hard to define. But one thing is for sure - you either have it or you don't.

Kerry Katona? Doesn't.

'Dear Beelzebelle,' she writes. 'I am a big celebrity and everyone knows who I am and they're really interested in my life, and everyone shops at Iceland because of me. Whenever I go there to shop I can hardly move because there are so many people asking me to autograph their tracksuits. I lost that contract now but I was sick of it anyway, so now I am thinking of branching out into new things. Like cocaine. And maybe some internet things. So maybe you can help me relaunch myself. As you can see I am blonde and gorgeous, I wondered if you could post me on your blog as someone who is Belf?'

No Kerry. I've definitely seen your kind around Orgrimmar. But I'm afraid they weren't Belves.

I'm sure you'll agree, the resemblance is striking.

Chief Plaguespreader Harris

Let's talk about this.

It's not a totally bad look. I sorta see what you're going for, the kind of WW2 chic - you've got great buckles on your boots, although I really don't know what to say about whatever is happening with your right foot, but you undead do seem to think it's cool to have bits kind of hanging off you. Your shoulder bones appear to have burst through your jacket but actually I think it's working for you. And I really dig the old school, Smiths style skinny tie. Retro cool.

But let's take a look at your head. Because there's a whole world of wrong going on there. I understand you need the gas mask because even though you're dead, you need to protect yourself from the plague. That's practical. But put that together with the weird hair, and you look kinda what Albert Einstein would have looked like if he had started morphing into a fly.

Sort it out mate.

Betrayed!

In an earlier post, I held up Lady Gaga as the perfect example of someone who could represent the taste and style of the Blood Elves on the international music scene. However, I must apologise to you, readers, after this photograph emerged, which makes it plain for all to see that this is a person who is fraternising with the enemy.

Although Miss Gaga is irrefutably elven, these facial markings are a clear indication that she is not an edgy and righteous member of the Horde, as I had supposed. Miss Gaga would appear to be a Night Elf. A pansy-ass, tree-hugging Night Elf!

Believe me when I say I never saw this coming. I would have expected more from her. But I plan to make my feelings on her unholy alliances known immediately. I assure you all that have cancelled my membership to the Lady Gaga fanclub and taken all of her posters down from my suite in Shattrath. I'll also be putting the concert tickets into the Auction House. I will no longer be naming my firstborn 'Mini Princess Gaga the Second'. 

Oh. And I must look into getting that 'Pokerface' tattoo removed from my left butt cheek.

Gleaming weapon

Have you died with your sword in the air 

or are you just happy to see me?

Ten signs your boyfriend might be Alliance

Dating is a proper war, girls - even in the best of times. But never is discord more likely than when you and your man are pulling for opposing factions. If you can't find a Horde Hottie, then to be honest, dating a noob would be a better bet than dating some failsauce Alliance fella. 

Of course, when a guy wants to get into your greaves, they can cover over all sorts of imperfections. So you might not even know if that lovely lad you've been weekending with is a secret Alliance loser. Here are some of the telltale signs.

1. Last time you asked him whether he preferred the red dress or the blue, he went for the blue.

  

2. You put on Tauren Chieftains 'Power of the Horde' and he didn't know any of the words.

3. When you asked him how far along he was along on the Pest Control achievement, he fidgeted, looked uncomfortable and muttered something about not appreciating barbaric behaviour.

4. Every so often, you think you catch a whiff of Stormwind brie.

5. You thought you heard him humming the Ironforge theme music in the shower but when you challenged him on it, he blushed and claimed it was some music he'd heard on Batman.

6. He says he hates gnomes, but he just doesn't seem to believe it deep in his soul.

7. Last time you put on your sexy Blood Elf go-go dancer costume for him, he suggested that a little smattering of blue face markings would really turn him on.

8. He has one of those calendars where every month has a different fluffy puppy on it.

9. While you were complaining about the gold sellers in Orgrimmar, he just had a blank look on his face and then tried to distract you with a /flirt.

10. He's four feet tall with a hearty Scottish laugh, rosy cheeks and he dances like a drunken Russian.

These are just some of the warning signs that 'Mister Perfect' might be hiding a disgusting secret from you. Watch out ladies! Don't put your guild at risk by sleeping with the enemy. Get rid of that pathetic Alliance man.