Category Archives: horror movies

The new haunt

So, you know about the house I grew up in and the haunted happenings there (we’ll call it “thirty-three twelve” for the sake of this entry).  My parents’ new house -well, the one they’ve lived in for the past 7 years, a place I’ve never lived- is NOT haunted.

The dorm I moved into after moving out of thirty-three twelve was not haunted, the old, smelly, no central A/C apartment I moved into my sophomore year of college, same thing.  The newly-built complex where I spent the latter part of my sophomore year through AFTER graduating college: no spooks.

My apartment now: loud and sometimes shitty neighbors, the occasional homeless guy in the woods, and, once, a young black man who needed a flashlight because he lost his bike in those woods (I have no idea), but nothing scary.

However, I am about to become a homeowner.  The house I’m buying is a legit old-school house at a mere 75 years old.

Something tells me I may encounter a spirit or two here:

 

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Have I ever told you…

that the house I grew up in was haunted? Now, you might be picturing a ramshackle, run down piece of crap house, but ours was nothing like that.  It was a cute brick ranch in a middle-class neighborhood with a very above-average yard (my parents have the greenest thumbs of anyone on the planet).  We had hair touching, and phantom tv noises, and “who the hell was I playing with?” moments and parents falling out of the attic but feeling pushed moments.

My parents have since moved to a larger house in a town about 10 miles away, and every time I visit I go by our old house.  It is apparently empty now, and I desperately want to find the woman who bought it to ask her if anything ever touched her hair or otherwise scared the crap out of her.

that sometimes I do lots and lots of random shit at odd hours? For example, it is now 3:03 am, Eastern time, and I am blogging. Two hours ago I was taking a camera phone photo of myself and my room as proof of the aftermath of ebaying.  I tore shit apart in my entire apartment looking for one USB cord that is seriously about 10 years old, all so I could sell my old digital camera.  I did a total super-cussin’ victory dance that included thanking Jesus [for real], fist pumping, jumping around and doing some weird cheerleader-type stunt with the help of my bed.

One night about a year ago, I decided to move my entire living room around, also at about 3am.  After thirty minutes of sweating and cussing, I realized I hated it and went to bed very angry.  I moved it back about a week later, completely crestfallen.

Cleaning the bathroom and driving also make this list.  Maybe those don’t necessarily qualify as “random shit” but most people I know do not take a two to three hour nap just so they can drive at 4am and avoid traffic, or decide that their bathtub HAS to be sparkling after a night out til 2.

that almost nothing grosses me out? (This does NOT count worms on the sidewalk) If you look closely, you’ll see I have the categories “farts” and “snot and boogers” in this blog.  My family has no qualms about discussing bowel movements and nasal output.  I’m lucky that many of my friends feel this way as well.  It isn’t uncommon for my friend Katie and I to email or text each other:  “Dude, I just took the greatest shit of my life.  It filled the bowl,” or “My butt just exploded.”  The latter is often after we hit up our favorite sushi joint.  Go figure.

My brother-in-law and I discuss farts on a regular basis and I have often been the victim of his crop dusting skills. And he is an EXPERT.

that my ideal house is one that may resemble a castle, will probably creep people out a little when they come over, and will also probably be dust-filled? Ok, so we can probably attribute the dustiness to my hatred of dusting. Seriously. I have not dusted my apartment in YEARS, except for the last time this guy I’m kind of seeing came over.  And that was just a dusting of the bookshelves around my Mexican money and skeleton key collection.  However, dust does lend a certain creep factor to things and although I am by no means some goth girl, I LOVE creepy.

I think antiques and dark wallpaper and damask fabric are beautiful things and I am all over trying to have a house that features this.  Bonuses would include: gargoyle statues, an atrium with tinted windows so it always seems gloomy out, and a library with large windows flanked by heavy, heavy drapery.

Boo!

Zelda, revisited (warning: if she still scares you shitless, don’t watch the video clip)

Anyone who has happened upon this blog has probably realized I have a “thing” about Zelda Goldman (the sister from ‘Pet Sematary’).

[See also: The scariest woman in the world and how I ALMOST got over her. (This is a long one, folks), OMG She’s everywhere!, and Zelda Zelda Zelda!]

Almost every day, I see from my stats that someone has landed here after googling “zelda”, “pet sematary” or something similar.

Many people have commented that they, too, have had horrible Zelda fears and some have also participated in self-immersion therapy to get over it.

Some have realized, KIND OF like I have, that the whole Zelda thing is kind of silly.  But don’t get me wrong: I STILL get slight heebie-jeebies when seeing her, but now I don’t run for cover and cry.

If you haven’t also done self-immersion, now’s your chance to dive right in:

Hope you enjoyed it!

Because, that’s why.

My all-time favorite movie genre is horror.

One of my all-time favorite websites is the site for the Archie McPhee store in Seattle.

When the two come together, I get a new posse.

Here are my new posse members:

And here I am with them:

Don’t hate.  Even the people at work who think I’m a total weirdo were enamored of them and honored when I passed a few of them out.  They decorate quite a few computer monitors in the R&E department now.

p.s. my hair is all done up because I had just gotten home from a wedding.  A wedding that started THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATE. True story.  I don’t make this shit up.

Who are you perverts???

Ok. Like many bloggers, I am slightly obsessive when it comes to finding out how people are directed to my database of drivel.

Here are two samples of some recent google searches that have directed folks here:

wtf.jpg

* i assume that the part you can’t see says “during sex”. as i got a tattoo recently, the artist regaled us with his story of the first time he had sex with his current girlfriend: total squat fart.

as you can see, someone googled “bikinis” and found their way here. fairly benign search term, no? i assume they landed on the photo of my sister and myself wearing our green bikinis and our dad’s workboots/workshoes when we were little.

what is NOT fairly benign, however, is past searches for “little kids in bikinis” that i’ve seen before.

i do not want some pedophile getting his rocks off looking at a photo of me from when i was 2.

with a passy.

and who, pray tell, is karrie kendrick? a porn star, i presume? LK, maybe a relative of yours?

a tip for whoever was caught jilling their boss: either you don’t know what jilling means, or your boss is seriously getting the raw end of the deal.

wtf-again.jpg

again, why is someone googling “kids in bikinis”? PEDOPHILE!

and, i had no idea that herman munster ever dressed as a woman. of course, i was never that into the munsters, so i guess it could’ve been part of some crazy plotline.

or not.

and, of course the biggest pervert population of them all [according to the above exact scientific evidence]: people searching for poop/vomit and genital-related videos.

Zelda, Zelda, Zelda!!

Tonight, while at nightwork, I googled Zelda.

For the umpteenth time since my self-induced immersion therapy.

And I almost took a step backward because I found a NEW picture of her.

Well, to be more accurate, a photo of the actor in his makeup, presumably showing it off.

All you fellow Zelda-fearers, get ready.

Because…

HERE IT IS

petsematarypictures29.jpg

Holy shit!!

Somehow, I am almost MORE scared of this than any other picture of her.

Another year, another list of whatever

Top search engine subject that directs people to this blog:

ZELDA (and derivatives: Zelda Goldman, Zelda Pet Sematary, Zelda Pet Cemetery, etc. You get the idea.)  Apparently, I am far from being the only person who has had the living piss scared out of them by her. Thanks to self-induced immersion therapy, I can now write about her and have google tell people to come read the stupid shit I write. Thank you, Stephen King.

zelda1.jpg

Top instrumental song that I could listen to on repeat for hours:

“The Music Box” by Unwed Sailor.

Running a close second:

“I Can’t Remember” by Mogwai

Total hours spent in unofficial “tech support” mode for family, friends and coworkers in the past two weeks:

Roughly twelve. Mom was right: I really should’ve gone to school for computer stuff (JSYK, that was the technical term).

Number of people I regret doing the “auto-smile” thing at when rounding a corner at work:

One. Just one. And you know her as BTSG. I REALLY wish I could put auto-smile in check once in a while. Or at least that I could’ve ripped a fart (I’ve been gassy lately) in her direction to make up for accidentally being nice to her.

Top hilarious website of the past 24 hours:

The Bible, as translated into LOLCat. I can has light?

Number of times someone told me they loved me on New Year’s Eve:

About fourteen. I also got about six cheek-kisses, one check-zoober, and seven arm-holds.

Top underrated and under-listened-to band of the last five years:

The Electric Soft Parade. This may be due to the following facts: they are from the UK, they haven’t ever toured in the States (I think), and a lot of us Americans have shitty taste in music.

Most-consumed (by me) potato chips of 2007 (and I am not a big potato chips fan):

0102081913a.jpg

These things are fucking GOOD. And my left thumb is fucking stubby. JSYK, that is the tip of my mp3 player on the desk, not a pink vibrator.

Celebrity crush that I am most embarrassed about, even though my friend Cool Amanda agrees with me:

John Cena, pro wrestler.

Celebrity crush that I’m not horribly embarrassed about:

Zachary Quinto
zach1.jpg

Worst surnames we’ve come across at nightwork:

Baskatawang and Soberanis.

I would tell you the worst FULL names, but I think that might not being staying on TASC [thorough, accurate, secure, cautious].

Worst perfume/fragrance I have EVER smelled:

Demeter’s Bonfire bonfire-left.jpg

Normally, I LOVE the smell of burning wood, real fireplaces, etc, but my friend Katie and I were messing around in a store and we sprayed some of this on my wrist.  Two hours later, I still had a headache and felt nauseous from the smell.

It does NOT smell like a real bonfire, y’all.

Probability that I will come up with a similar list in the near future:

HIGHLY LIKELY

A potpourri of the last few weeks…

Good. Gah.

The last few weeks have been crrrrazy, I tell ya.

First, I was going through the whole “what job do I take?!?!” conundrum.

That, I decided, would work itself out. And it did.

I told CRO 2 [the one with whom I interviewed AFTER accepting the job from CRO 1] that I needed to know something VERY soon, as I was putting another company’s offer on hold.

“Oh, yeah we want to make a decision very quickly.”

Cue the crickets; I waited almost two weeks, with the only contact being initiated by ME, only to be answered with out of office auto-replies and then an email saying “we’ll let you know when we hear something.”

The day before I was to go to another city for first-day orientation, I went into my old office with my pal J to retrieve my personal not-so-mini fridge.

Since I hadn’t heard from CRO 2 [they’ve been major wankers in the past, so I was pretty sick of them at this point] I went to their website and viewed my job profile.

“Interviewing” was still beside the job for which I’d interviewed. After almost TWO WEEKS.

Fuckers.

So I did what any self-respecting “I’m about to take a job with your competitor”-thinking person would do: I went to my profile and removed my name from consideration.

The next day, I got this email:

Hello Thefreshcracker,

Thank you for your interest in employment opportunities at Asshole CRO and the GMS team. We enjoyed speaking with you and appreciate the time you took to talk with us about your background and experience.

We reviewed a number of candidates for the Analyst I position and have found others whose qualifications more closely match our position profile. Unfortunately, we are not able to offer you employment at this time.

Best of luck to you in the future.

Thank you,
Tiffany

A: the recruiter’s name is Tiffany.
B: I got this email after, yes AFTER, I’d removed my name from consideration.

So I decided to stick with rad-and-awesome CRO. And I’m glad I did. My only real concerns were the commute [nine whole miles! lame.] and that their health benefits are more expensive. BEE EFF DEE.

The work environment: awesome
My boss: awesome
My coworkers: awesome.

I don’t even miss my old job with the crappy med students who could barely wipe their own asses.  My friend who still works there [in IT, so a MUCH better atmosphere] told me via email that my former boss looks “lost. and i mean LOST.” anytime someone comes in with a question.

i laughed diabolically and then felt a little guilty.

In other news, I got drunk at nightwork’s Halloween party and told my crush I thought he was cute.

Cue the awkwardness.

Also, my friend had a bike wreck and got injured.  Badly. Broken jaw and needing root canals injured.

No dental insurance.

So we’re trying to collect money at work to help with her bills.

JSYK: if you feel like being generous and helping her out, you can send Paypal payments to mailto:babetoothless@gmail.com

Aaaand over the Thanksgiving holiday my brother’s friend got stabbed, lost 40% of his blood volume, and almost died.

I also thought I had an intestinal blockage, but it turns out I just needed a laxative.

TMI?

OMG She’s everywhere!

So the Pentagenarian [with whom I have been getting along fabulously lately. Hope that didn’t jinx it] and I took our boss out for a belated bosses’ day lunch on Friday.

It took us forever to decide where to go, but we finally settled on a good place with awesome food where we never think to go.

We entered the restaurant, and were seated immediately.

All seemed well.

Until our waitress came.

WHY?

BECAUSE SHE LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE ZELDA BUT WALKING AND WITH CURLY HAIR!!!

WOULD YOU WANT THIS:

SERVING YOUR MEAL?!?!?

The REM Sleep Diaries and The Theme Fiasco

Among a lot of other things in my life, one thing I do rather oddly is sleep.  Or, to be more specific, dream.

I first noticed that my dreaming patterns were something weird at age six.  I’d had a fever and ended up dreaming this:

Our family went on a trip to the beach [we’re beach people, in the David Sedaris school of thought] and Grover [from Sesame Street] went with us.  Upon returning home, I discovered that Grover had peed in his bathing suit and I threatened to tell on him.  Immediately, he turned into the Big Bad Wolf and trapped me behind my bed.

I woke up crying and my dad came and gave me baby aspirin and sat with me until I went back to sleep.

If only I’d known then how weird my dreams would get.

I often wake myself up by talking.  Also, by laughing.

I once dreamed that my sister and I were running through some building, when I slipped on a floor mat and started to fall.  Somehow, I slowed myself down and did a funny pose as I fell, with the intent of making her crack up.

It worked. REALLY well, because I started cracking up so loudly that I woke up, laughed a while, sighed, and went back to sleep.

True story.

I also once woke myself and my parents up by yelling for my mom in my sleep.  I was at that “everything is scary and I have to sleep on my parents’ bedroom floor” phase in my life, when I began dreaming that my brother was grabbing the back of my neck and tickling me [did you know tickling is a form of torture?].  In real, awake life when he did this, I used to yell for my mom to make him quit.  In my dream, asleep life, I also did this and woke up to myself saying “Moooooooooooooooooommmmmmmm!”

I immediately slurred, “Mom? Did I just call for you?”

“Uh huh. Yeah”

“Oh”

Then we all went back to sleep.

A lot of times, my dreams have recurring themes or settings.  The most popular dream setting? School.  And it’s usually my high school [vomit] and the dreams, more often than not, involve me either being VERY late to class, skipping class, or going to a class I’ve only attended once or twice and finding out that I have no idea what’s going on.

The second most-common setting is a grocery store.  One of my most memorable “WTF?” dreams involved me in soccer gear running down the aisle to get away from the ghost of the statue of liberty.

I know.

Usually, though, I’m searching for chocolate milk or orange juice. In EVERY grocery store dream.  Maybe this is a sign that I need more calcium and vitamin C?

Sometimes, my dreams completely escape my memory, but they make me wake up with a sense of urgency. 

For example, the other night I awoke with a start, sat upright, turned on my bedside lamp, and realized my heart was racing.

With absolutely no recollection of my dream, I grabbed my golf club [complete with head cut off; better for impaling intruders] and checked every nook and cranny of my apartment.

Even my washer/dryer closet where you’d have to be two-dimensional just to fit.

There was no one in my apartment but me. Thank God.

Since it’s taken me forever to write this entry, I’ve had another theme dream. AND IT SUCKED! (please refer to “Let me Borrow that Top” by Kelly in order to get the feel for that last phrase)

It was a school dream again.  This time, I had a World History exam and had missed the last few classes [par for the course so far] but, then, the dream carried over into real-life and I woke up like four times with a sense of panic thinking “Holy shit! I have to study for that exam!”

Good. Gah.