Shweaty Balls June 18, 2008

Does anyone remember the SNL sketch with Anna Gasteyer and Mollye Shannon as NPR anchors, with their guest, Alec Baldwin, promoting his Shweaty Chocolate Balls?  Highlights from that sketch kept running through my head earlier today, when I was both sweating my figurative balls off, and craving chocolate.  

Being back to work feels really good.  Better than I expected, truthfully.  Even under the trying circumstances (temps in the mid 90’s by 9:30 in the effing morning, paired with the two most socially awkward people I could ever work with), it feels good to work hard and sweat a lot and work out my Painting Muscles.  Every time I take a break from scenic painting, a month in this instance, I forget that when I do return, I will have a week of stiff joints and sore muscles until I re-acclimate to the unique workout scenic painting provides.  My forearms burn.  My thighs are talkin’ to me.  My lower back is tight.  But it feels good, as if the aches are an Undeniable Indicator that I’ve been productive.  Gah, they brainwashed me good.  Must.  Produce.  Must.  Paint.  Must.  Eat. Brains.  

T-minus two days til FireBall is back in the state.  Her best friends are getting married this weekend, and myself and my roommate and his girlfriend are trekking west a couple of hours to spend a couple days making merry.  It’s hard to believe it’s only been two weeks since I’ve seen her…it feels much longer.  She is having a difficult time right now with the transition from Here to There, and she already has beef with the month of June to begin with, so my desire to be near her, to make her smile and laugh, to have some good times and talks…it only intensifies more every day.  We are hovering in a strange limbo, still, this bizarre territory that makes me think things like, I didn’t even talk to my last girlfriend this much when we were dating, or, If I were to meet someone right now I would have to change my relationship with FireBall because it’s too involved for there to be room for three of us.  Oh well.  We’ll see what happens when we’re back in the same city. 

On an unrelated note, I saw on Perez today that the Republican State Convention in Texas passed out buttons as souvenirs.  Said buttons read:  If Obama wins, will we still call it the White House?  This makes me want to punch someone in the lip.  I hope they don’t get away with that racist bullshit, but it is Texas…

The thought that, in six weeks, I will be moving to New York City, makes me want to vomit just a little bit.  Just a little.  It’s good, it’s exciting, I’ll have work, I’ll have an apartment, but…it’s NYC.  I still can’t wrap my head around living there.  I never saw it for myself.  I still have a hard time seeing it for myself.  I suppose I’ll achieve clarity in those regards when I find the best neighborhood bar, a favorite restaurant, and when I’m paying utility bills to New York State.  Still…so crazy to me.  

I’m a little scared, not gonna lie.  No, wait.  Scratch that.  A Lot Scared.   

 

Non Drowsy Formula January 30, 2008

Stupid global warming.  This weather is really starting to get to my poor immune system.  I take my vitamins every day.  I drink water.  I wash my hands a lot.  So how come I’m sick?  Because everyone else is, thanks to the weather.  65 degrees one day, and 26 the next…that’s not good for the constitution.  If it’s going to be cold, lets just do it, lets get into it, lets accept it.  I’m tired of this wavering back and forth.  And I’m feeling pretty funny from the non-drowsy cough syrup I ingested, right before that three hour nap I accidentally took.   I haven’t made it to crew in the last two days…I know that the paint charge is probably cursing my name, but I just feel like crap.  The downhill progression definitely begin on Traumatic Friday last week.  I haven’t been right since.   Tomorrow is February 1st.  This makes me panic.  February 1st means that there are only five weeks left in this term, hence the midterms on Monday.  February 1st means Job Fair is in a month and a week.  February 1st means there are only four months left in my education here, and while that is exciting and joyous, it is an emotional business.  I’ve spent every waking moment with this group of roughly 60 people, and I’ve gotten comfortable (and that’s the biggest reason that it’s good that I’m moving on soon) and I feel very confident in the person I am within these confines.   Clearly, it’s time uproot everything and jump out of my comfort zone, once and for all.  Thirty consecutive years in the South is enough.  For now.   Being sick is stupid.  All I want to do is lay in bed with my computer and watch old Kathleen Turner movies.  I’m having a personal renaissance with KT…she’s rockin’ my world all over again.  She did her own stunts in Romancing The Stone.  I’m just sayin’, it takes quite a woman to swing across a ravine in the jungles of Mexico, and still be sexy in a soiled skirt suit.  I had a personal epiphany this week, and make fun if you will, but it’s true: seeing Romancing the Stone at an early age may or may not have been a formative influence in shaping my life’s dreams and tastes.  Is living on a boat my dream, or Jack T. Colton’s?  Is Joan Wilder the reason I’m attracted to sexy intellectuals with a penchant for mischief and adventure?  What if the answer is yes?  How much of a nerd does that make me?  I mean, it’s a good movie, it was a smash hit in 1984, but really?  I think I’d like to meet Kathleen Turner and tell her that she once embodied my ideal woman, essentially constructing the framework for my attraction to women.  If I were a character in the movie, But I’m A Cheerleader, Kathleen Turner would be My Root.   Wow…I should go to bed.  This cough syrup has made me say ridiculous things today.  I asked Kaylan what she thought would happen if we ran into our future selves at the Whole Foods this evening.  She asked me if she should drive the car home.   

Over It January 22, 2008

I’m ready to graduate.  Now.  I am having a hard time being motivated about much, except for doing what I have to, to get the eff out of here.  I didn’t have Senioritis this bad in high school, even.  At least I am not alone in this feeling…you can see it painted on the faces of all the other seniors I pass in the halls.  Done.  All done.   We’ve been fast and furiously painting an opera ever since school got back in session, and I have to say, objectively, it looks like pure shit.  Which is such a shame…such a shame.  It’s not that we’ve done a bad paint job, it’s just that the design is a little…well…slapped together.  Everyone is started to get frustrated, now that we’ve finished three quarters of the show, and it’s becoming evident how janky everything looks, once it’s grouped together.  Oh well.  I was looking forward to another nice portfolio piece, but I don’t think that’s in the cards from this show.   My head is spinning these days, what with graduation and trying to figure out what to do (grad school?  take the first good job offered me?  move to L.A. and keep my fingers crossed for the writers strike to end?  move to Hawaii with JJJ?) and the end result is something akin to paralysis.  I’m starting to think crazy… all of a sudden, I’m very interested in a grad program at the University of Hawaii (they’ve got a great puppetry program), but the logistics of that is mind-bending.  Also, I’ve been re-inspired to take a look at the Peace Corps… I think their mission is really important and interesting, and I want to live out of the country for a couple years, and they’d pay my loans for undergrad.   The Peace Corps seems to be the Defining Moment Of Life for all the people that I know that have done it…I’d kinda like an experience like that to carry with me; knowing I can step out of my comfort zone, and give my time and efforts to something that actually makes a difference in someone’s life, or enriches a community… I dunno, it sounds good.   Of course, all of these thoughts are just my Panic Response to having to find a job in the real world.   JJJ and I have been talking more frequently these days.  We are in a pretty good place… our conversations are getting more and more honest by the day, and we can still make each other laugh, every time.  I miss her, not gonna lie.  There are hesitations in getting too emotionally involved again, but truthfully, I never got emotionally un-involved… I’ve been hung up on her since I told her it was over, and I certainly don’t hate all the effort she’s been putting in, trying to get me back.  It counts for something, for sure.  We have ten days in Hawaii to see if we are interested in rekindling…although, if I had to guess, I’d bet I won’t say no when we’re in our private bungalow on the beach, with the private pool, hot tub, cabana and butler… she drives a hard bargain, for sure.  Winin’ and dinin’ off the continental US, with scuba trips and luaus and helicopter rides over volcanoes in store.  I mean, that sounds pretty Romantical to me.   But still I’m torn.  There are a handful of people that I’m interested in, all for different reasons, and I’m not sure I’m willing to cut off the possibility of those connections and situations, just yet.  Maybe once school is over, if JJJ and I are living in the same city, I could commit to Having Another Go.  Right now, I like talking to her, and daydreaming about Hawaii… and flirting with these other women while I bide my time.  There’s a problem there, though…  if I let the flirting turn into anything else, then I have to explain that I’m going on a Sexy Vacation with an ex, where I will, indeed, be having sex with Someone Else.   It’s not exactly the best case scenario for dating someone, in the mean time.  I won’t close myself off to the possibility of finding something interesting and good with someone else, but I feel like I’ve got a hook in my heart, and there’s no room for falling in love with anyone else right now.   Shit, what am I talking about?  There’s no room for falling in love with anyone else, anyway.  I’ve got eighty-hundred hours of school this term.   I am about to go paint Hansel and Gretel, an outside job the school has arranged…and of course, today is the day the Weather Channel is calling for snow.  I’m skeptical, but boy! do I want to go sledding!!  And then I need to go get supplies to build my first puppet for class—So Excited about this class!!!  I want to make puppets forever.   

11 of 12 January 10, 2008

Winter Term 2008 has officially commenced…and I already feel like I’ve been here every day for my whole life.  And after such a joyous and relaxing Christmas break, too.   I’m taking 18 hours this term, which makes me a little nauseous and woozy just to say out loud, but it’s a decent balance of things I’m really stoked about and things  I can recognize as essentials.  It doesn’t make 8 a.m.’s any easier.  It doesn’t make the fourteen hour school days go by any quicker.  I want to do cartwheels about this one particular class; myself and Anchors and L and K and D (all close friends) have created an independent study in puppet making and I can’t stop thinking about The Puppet I want to build.  It’s maybe the nerdiest thing I’ve gotten this excited about, but I dare someone to call Jim Henson and Tim Burton nerds (in any derogatory fashion)….puppet-making is cool.   I’m also in scene painting III, costume shop management, professional career development, art history, western thought, and theater history.  In addition to my production hours, which are apparently slated to include some paid work on the weekend for area theaters.  It’s a crazy schedule, but I’m not depressed about it right now.  Yet.   Anchors best friend (our friend…) Baldy was in town this past week….it was good times.  I laughed more and harder this week than I have in a while.  It was a nice way to ease back into school…by completely ignoring my work and having Social Fun Times instead.  Now I have to get serious.  Blaugh.   Off to crew.  I’m painting a four foot tall portrait to serve as the centerpiece for Act II of the winter opera, which will be touring, so I gotta get it right, get it right get it tight!!   

Dick Clark Is A Robot January 3, 2008

I’ve been thinking for years, ever since he had his stroke, that Dick Clark was actually made from cast resin, with strings attached to his hands, like a marionette.  It really depresses me to see him on TV, doing his Rockin’ New Years Eve thing…Madame Tussaud must be really proud of herself for this one.   If New Years Eve was any indicator of how 2008 is going to go, I’m in for a good year.  Myself, R and M hopped in the car on Sunday and headed to DC, to visit Ashantaleezay; of course, it hasn’t rained in for-fucking-ever, and then it torrentially pours the one day we have to drive.  The drive wasn’t awful, though…no nasty traffic, which is a first, where DC is concerned.  We spent Sunday evening in A’s apartment, catching up and having some laughs; A had to work early Monday morning.   On Monday, R and M and I went toodling around DC while A was at work having carpet installed (”Is that code for something?”—M).  We found a cute bagel place to eat a late breakfast and then continued down to the Mall to take in some culture.  The metro was quite impressive; not only was the architecture inside the station at Gallery Place quite pleasing, but there were cushions on the train!  And carpet!  We had intended to hit up the Nat’l Portrait Gallery as well as the Spy Museum, but after getting our fill of espionage, drinks were in order, so we proceeded to some brewery, where we watched an old crazy have the time of her life, talking to herself.  Her cardigan was on backwards, and she wore a double strand of pearls, maybe to accent her shiny-gray dreads she had stuffed into a beanie…Whatever the case, she was having more fun than anyone at the bar.  She just laughed and laughed at whatever her imaginary companion was saying.  I’m still curious about what their conversation was about.   Monday evening, after resting and getting ready and having a photo shoot, we all ventured into Adams Morgan to meet up with Party Monster and Co…lots of old friends from high school that I hadn’t spent a New Years Eve with in twelve years.  It was quite the event.  We rolled up in Party Monster’s older brother’s loft apartment, two blocks of 18th St, which was busting at the seams so many people were packed into the streets.  Cops had to shut the streets down to auto traffic; they were just too many people everywhere.  We had the luxury of enjoying a roof terrace…we watched some far-away fireworks, and the Homeland Security helicopters circling around Important Buildings over downtown.  We also got plenty of New Years whoopin’ and screamin’, shuckin’ and jivin’ done.  Apparently, a baby lives below PM’s brothers, so we were supposed to be quiet in the house…which was an impossibility, with the Forces of Evil reunited again.   After watching the ball drop (and seeing the Persian Princess’ national commercial debut at 11:46 during Rockin’ Eve celebration!) we all headed down to 18th St, into the throngs of drunk and hostile people.  New Years Eve can bring out the worst in people, I think.  We went to the Pharmacy Bar, which was playing some lousy metal when we arrived, but Party Monster straightened that out shortly, and got the DJ to play some good dance jamzzzz.  My ears are still ringing from dancing too close to the speakers when Boston came on.  It was an awesome time.  I Did Not make out with anyone at midnight, which was a bit of a disappointment, but I had a great time, regardless.  That’s saying a lot…no New Years kisses, and it was still the best New Years Eve, yet.   I got wasted off of half a shot of whiskey, over ice.  I will be a cheap date forever.   We finally got into bed at about 4, and I promptly had a giggling fit that lasted an hour.  We all woke up at about eleven, went and had lunch in Dupont Cirlce with A’s sister and her girlfriend, and then packed the car and headed home.  I slept most of the way back, and had the most fascinating and entertaining dreams about being friends with Cher.  She can be quite charming when she feels like it…  As we were pulling into R and M’s home-base city, we got to laughing so hard, I almost peed myself.  I couldn’t see or breathe, and we were shaking the car, the three of us were laughing so hard.  It was a good way to conclude an amazing, brief road trip.   I love my friends.  They are truly the best in the world.  My friends can beat your friends in a dance-off, any day!   

OK, I Admit It October 24, 2007

I’m drunk blogging again. I’ve had only the three beers, but apparently, due to my infrequent alcohol consumption, I have become A Cheap Date. I guess that’s okay. I told myself I’d only have one, but I don’t have to pay for drinks, since I’m repainting the sign that hangs over the door at the bar. That spells trouble. I had forgotten they’re not charging for a while, and I took three dollars for One Pint, and end up drinking three (and a half, actually). Whatever. After spending four hours shredding gold wrapping paper, and gluing it to a one and a half inch wide strip of wacky, cut in a highly ornate detail, that happens to be 58′ long or something, I felt like I deserved a beer.

One of the sophmores on my crew joined me for a beer tonight. She’s cute. That also spells trouble. I don’t know what to make of all these new girls in the shop this year. Kitty likes to call them My Harem, because they flock around me and fawn over me and desperately want my approval, and a few of them definitely flirt with me at every given oppurtunity, and that makes it hard. I am Not Interested in dating anyone in the shop, much less another young straight thing looking for a College Experience, but damn if it isn’t tempting, every time. I mean, whose ego wouldn’t like young things of the preferred gender flashing their cleavage and playing with their hair every time you come near? I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but it happens, every single day. The tricksy thing is that This One Girl is really talented, really easy to work with, really idealistic and cheerful (not yet jaded by the harsh realities) and she won’t quit staring at my boobs or requesting (flirting) to work with me on every project. Clearly, clearly, I will take the high road and refrain from messing around with Attractive Straight Girl, but damn if it’s not hard when she’s encouraging me to drink more, and boring holes in my nipples with her eyes. Alas. Twas never meant to be. She’s not really gay, and I’m not really available. It’s fun to think about, though, and it certainly passes the hours in crew.

I finished reading the Island of the Sequined Love Nun today. LOVED IT. Thank you, Shades…what a great read! I recommend it to anyone who has ever enjoyed Tom Robbins or Carl Hiaasen. Or cannibals and trannies and conspiracy theories about organ harvesting and tropical locales. And the fruitbat named Roberto…oh, how I loved Roberto!! It was a great book. I read one or two chapters a night for the last couple weeks, and finally I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore and finished the last 40 pages during a break between classes. For the record, I love a book that has lots and lots of ten page chapters…best bedtime/bathroom/lunch break reads ever.

In other news, my appointment for LapBand surgery has been officially scheduled and approved for December 12th. I am, all of a sudden, very nervous. I’ve never had major surgery. The only time I’ve ever been in the hospital was when I was six, and I had to get my tonsils removed. That was a long time ago. I’m scared of IV’s, and I’m scared of anesthesia, and I’m scared of scalpels, and I’m scared of the fact that there are always risks involved. I have faith that it’s the right thing to do, and I believe it will all Be All Right, but today it became real, instead of just being this thing hovering on the horizon that I keep thinking about but it’s still too far away to really feel anything concrete. It’s only six weeks away now. The deposit has been paid, and the rental car has been reserved, and the doctors are expecting me. No going back now. I can’t wait, and I wish I could just fast forward six months, already.

I have to go to bed. I have to be in a classroom in such a short amount of hours, it’s sickening.

Spots and Dots October 6, 2007

I’ve been working on a reproduction of a Roy Lichtenstein painting for my independent study in Pop Art this morning. Does anyone have a good suggestion for a pre-made material that will create dots about the size of the head of a fork tyne? My instructor doesn’t want me to spend the time making a stencil myself; my challenge for this project is all about the dots, and my head is swimming with all the little buggers, and I’m out of ideas. Help?

I took one of my equivalency tests this morning–big relief. I only missed 8 questions out of 88, and scored a full 25 points above what I needed to, in order to receive the credit I need. Praise Jeebus!! Mind you, I was not exactly thrilled to be at the Testing Center at 8 a.m., with my hundred dollars ready to hand over, but it’s truly worth it. One and one half hours of multiple choice testing = 6 credit hours toward my degree.

School is already so overwhelming that I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I’m wandering around in a constant state of Half Awake Half Asleep…not exactly the ideal circumstances to spend the year showcasing what I’ve learned, and building a portfolio that speaks for itself.

I could complain for hours, that’s the real truth.

I’m tired and I’m cranky and I’m sick of painting and all I want in the world is to go to the county fair that is currently serving corn dogs and funnel cakes in my absence. Alas, I have to read Oedipus Rex and Gilgamesh, for the second and third time, respectively. Boo. Boo, I say.

One day, I will be in a good mood again. One day, I will get eight hours of sleep again. One day, I will graduate and remember what it means to have a Real Life. Phew.

Is This A Riddle? September 27, 2007

This morning, I woke up a bit later than I meant to; still plenty of time to get to class, but it would be tight. After throwing some clothes on that looked clean enough, I grabbed the door knob to exit my bedroom, and the door knob promptly fell off into my hand. Gently, I tried to maneuver a connection with the male part of the door knob, on the other side of the door, and succeeded only in pushing the other side out. And then I was trapped in my bedroom. My roommate left while I was putting on clothes, about two minutes after I woke up; I heard the door slam on his way out, and since it’s a seven minute drive to school, chances were good he was already there. He certainly wasn’t going to miss class to let me out of my bedroom. So I went back to bed, it being 7:45 and all. I woke up at nine, started to panic as my lighting design course started at ten, and in my frustration, I kicked the door. It swung right open.

Fast forward ten hours. I arrived at Anchors house, laundry in tow, for an evening of studying and cable TV. We decided to grab some dinner about forty five seconds after I put my laundry in, so we grabbed purses and headed out the door. I volunteered to drive, dug deep in my small cavern of a handbag, and realized I’d locked my keys in my car. This is number 16 in the past 24 months…I would guess AAA thinks I’m The Most Forgetful Motorist in town. It was no real hassle to deal with; the guy got my car open in under three minutes, with his fancy slim jim. Every time I lock my keys in my car, I always think, “I should get one of those…” when I see the slim jim in action, but then I remember I would inevitably store it in my car, where it would do no good whatsoever.

Is the universe trying to tell me something? A lock-in and a lock-out all in the same day? I bet a psychoanalyst could have a field day with That One. I don’t feel trapped. I don’t think I’m shutting anything away that I ought to bring out into the light. These past three weeks haven’t been the easiest I’ve ever encountered, but I’m feeling more like there are almost too many open doors in my path, not the opposite.

Also, I can’t sleep lately. I thought it was the full moon, but that was one or two nights ago.

Nugget of knowledge from today: watts=volts(amps)
I have a ridiculously hard time grasping the fact that magnets spinning around a wire make the lights turn on.

Woah Times A Million September 18, 2007

This last, my senior year, is gonna be a bitch. I can tell already. Currently, I am locking the trays in place and returning my seat to an upright position. This could be a hard landing.

Check this shit out: so I’m required to take this class called Arts and Artifacts. They don’t offer the class this year. I am, therefore, enrolled in Art History, which will waive my requirement to take this class. However, Art History credits don’t waive the three credit hours associated with the class they’re not offering, so now I have to find a way to make up the three credit hours. Doesn’t sound like such a large feat; I can break it down over the three terms, taking a one credit hour arts elective each term…except for the fact that there are no arts classes offered at a time I can take them, that i haven’t already taken before. Literally, not one. Out of 85 or 90 arts classes, not ONE fit into my schedule. I have been in a mad scramble to create and get approval on an independent study before the last day to add (tomorrow) and I managed to finagle an independent study in pop art rendering (awesome…), but it has created a rather tight schedule for me. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I have no less than ten consecutive hours of obligation (class and crew) with no more than a ten minute break in between any one thing. Ouch. On Thursday, oh happy day, I have a fourteen hour day with nary a break. Literally, not one. I am, indeed, partially responsible for this crunch; I allowed academics to be second priority, and as such, I have to take more academics this year than any senior ever should. But I’m not responsible for the flubbery with Arts and Artifacts (or the fact that this piece of vital information was never announced to any of us–approximately 25 of the 38 people in my graduating class are in the same boat as I…Arts and Artifacts was just created last year, and already they can’t offer it to us, but still require it. What?!), yet I’m still suffering. My classes, all year long, are as follows: art history, theater history, western thought, scene painting III, professional career development (they’re gonna make me start fixing my credit…), lighting design for the non-major, independent study in rendering each term (i’m thinking surrealism and chiaroscuro for winter and spring terms), and costume shop management. As a full time student here, it is usual to have no more than ten hours, due to the time vacuum of Crew. I have to take 16 each term. I kind of want to shoot myself. No, that’s not true.

Part of me is excited by this seemingly impossible challenge, with surgery and graduation the two landmarks I have to reach. I think I can focus up, I think I can make the jump shot in the last three seconds of the game. I think I can ‘wow’ them in the end. I think I will have to be a recluse who carries text books every where she goes. I think I will have to become a morning person.

In other news, today I beat YYZ, on Guitar Hero 2, on expert setting. I feel like I can officially say now, I Fucking Rock. Sometimes, I wonder why I can wail on a plastic guitar, and suck on a wooden one. Meh. I can rock on expert. That’s not entirely trivial, right?

Sharks and Minnows August 18, 2007

Phew. A long week has ended, finally, and I can hang out in the air conditioning for a couple of days and get my internal core temperature back to normal. Yesterday was maybe as hot as I’ve ever been (while doing hard physical labor, because of doing physical labor?). As such, I had to get mildly intoxicated tonight, and go jump in a pool for a while. It felt great…four of us went ninja-style into some high end apartment complex and borrowed their pool for an hour. We played a Marco Polo-esque game, and I felt like I was twelve again. I did not get caught by the Shark; I was a successful Minnow, twice.

But I have to back-track…mild intoxication leaves me prone to tangents and segues. Before we went swimming, my ladyfriend and Anchors and myself went over to J and C’s house (they are couple one of two, of My Straight Friends in Winston-Salem). J/C just moved into a sweet house a couple of blocks away from me, where they have a big screen TV, and Guitar Hero. C and I have been battling the Fearsome Frets section on expert for about a month and a half now (that’s one bracket away from beating the game, FYI). I go play maybe once a week, we have a great time, they’re rambunctious and playful and generous Good Times, with reputations as Serious Party-ers. Maybe the reputation is deserved; I don’t see them party more than anyone else, but I’m not there all the time, so who knows. I like them.

I realized tonight that Guitar Hero is the first video game that has ever encouraged me to put down the controller and actually get a new hobby. I’m seriously in love with the harmonica–sure, it sounds like shit right now, and I only have three very simple songs memorized, but for the first time, I’m really enjoying an instrument, and I find practicing a joy instead of a chore. I look forward to it. I honestly believe that I wouldn’t have attempted to begin the process of learning an instrument, without the aid of Guitar Hero. Aside from being a great game, I found I had the rhythm, and the hand control and coordination to play that cheap plastic guitar very well. I have a strong feeling that playing the plastic guitar and playing a real guitar are not very similar to one another, but my confidence was bolstered, nonetheless. And, voila! A new hobby.

The downside of Guitar Hero is that it’s not great on the eyes (and probably the wrists…), so after about an hour of five of us trading off, I needed to head outside for some air. J took us on a tour of the new backyard, and we’re standing out there in the dark, talking about how to construct the perfect Slip N Slide run in his back yard; the yard is screaming for it. My ladyfriend asked J if the new house was haunted…he said No, he’d never lived in a haunted house. Anchors commented that she hadn’t either. Me and Ole Blue Eyes looked at each other, and giggled uncomfortably; we’ve both lived in a few, and I know how crazy it might sound to someone who’s never experienced it, firsthand. Right at that moment, out of the dark brush bordering J’s backyard comes a distinct man-sound. To be more precise, it sounded like the Living Dead was trying to communicate it’s need for brains to us. We all froze, looked at each other to confirm we hadn’t been hearing things, and then we bolted. It was a casual bolt, no outright running, but we were all clearly in a hurry to get inside. I will forever after be convinced that their next door neighbors are keeping a zombie in their shed. Or something. It was creepy, but in that exhilirating kind of way. I appreciate a moment that makes me doubt everything I know to be true. It’s good to stay on your toes. I mean, how often in life do you think to yourself, “The dead have risen, I need to go inside”. It’s frightening, sure, but it’s fairly unique. Variety is the spice of life, right?

Once we got inside the house, I had a laughing fit that Anchors perpetuated–she’s always good for that. Plus, I haven’t been that high since I was a fifteen year old smoking out of Coke can. (Is it taboo to admit smoking pot on the Internets? Probably.) Ole Blue Eyes was ready to go swimming, but I knew enough not to drive right then. “Um, I just ran in the house because I thought a zombie wanted to eat my brain. I think I should chill for a few minutes”.

You had better believe I had my Zombie Killing Weapon picked out in my brain, just in case. The big glass jar, sitting beside the big screen TV, holding the fake sunflower. I could fuck a zombie up with that.