Hoo, me.

A month ago, I volunteered to play the mascot at the annual AFIT picnic (my resume's padded with this kind of work), not realizing then that it would mean dancing "wiggles" songs I don't know with children I know less well.
I took the costume home to try it on, and the first thing I noticed was the stunning lack of an orifice, which you usually find in your common house owl, through which I'd be able to stick a bottle of water, so I bought a Camelback to wear underneath so I'd have my own water supply. It worked gdait, as they say in Scotland.
Unfortunately, I was short a wife and appropriately placed safety pins, so the back zipper kept opening and the legs kept sliding down. I had considered shaving my legs, but figured that the older people would know there was a guy in there anyway, and the children who were young enough to buy a giant owl wouldn't care if it had hairy legs. And I finally had to break my mascot code of silence by asking a confused woman for help (from behind a mask and with a Camelback tube in my mouth):
"Can you zip me up?"
"Can I whut?"
"Can you zip me up?"
(Incredulous): "Can I pick you u-up?"
Otherwise, I did my best to mingle and tickle and wave and hug and embarrass. I helped a girl with Bingo. I stole some guy's burger. I sat on a Colonel. I fenced with an umbrella.
But the piece de Swayzistance was doing the Hot Potato and The Unicorn and the Pointy Fingered Twist with the band. Two AFIT students and two instructors sang the songs and played guitars, maybe a half-dozen kids bounced around with us, and -- amazingly -- no one applauded after any of the songs. I was the one in big yellow feet and I was embarrassed for the band. How rude.
But, ultimately, the little spuds seemed to enjoy themselves. One mom told her 2yr-old son to go over and give me a hug, and instead, he gave me a kiss.
Shucks.