Friday, October 25, 2013

My First Haunted House, I am Not Proud

Last week I went to my very first haunted house ever. (The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland does not count.) In the past I have joined a haunted house line a few times, sometimes even making it all the way to the this-is-your-last-chance-to-escape! exit before dodging out of the line, mom-running to the safety of the park benches next to the churros vendor. 

yeah, BOO... whatever

Before I tell you about my first haunted house experience, let's talk about video games. I don't like most video games. I can't stand playing anything that involves face-to-face combat. Even Super Mario Bros freaks me out. The reason? I can't separate pretend from reality. This is a problem. I can't even stand playing real-life games. Whenever I played tag as a child, I felt like I was literally running for my life. If a person charged me and made me "it," I cowered and crumpled into a ball, accepting my fate to be a dead person, doomed to haunt the sprinkler system of my neighbor's front lawn for eternity. Maybe I was a melodramatic child? 

Maybe I am a melodramatic adult.

The only video games I like to play are tower defense games. You know, where you set up all of your defenses-- towers, lasers, glue traps, and whatnot-- and then you sit back and watch while your team does all of the work, taking on the bad guys. I am addicted (and surprisingly good) at games such as Plants vs. Zombies, Creeps, Field Runners, and Kingdom Rush. 

I'm sure that this surprises no one, but, I did not do well at my first haunted house. Perhaps I would have been okay if I could have had a tower defense system. If I could have attacked all of the spring-loaded clowns and screaming zombies with corn cob cannons or laser guns, I might have been fine. Unfortunately, the best that I could do was set up my husband and my little ten-year-old daughter in a defense formation -- daughter in the front, husband in the back, me in the middle-- as we made our way through Lagoon's Fun House of Fear.

Guys? In the very crowded, dark, and clown-infested labyrinth of cheap prosthetics and teenage actors? In my very first haunted house in the history of me?

I lost my shit.

Things that I screamed while making my way through the haunted house:



3. #$%! #$%! #$%$!!!! BLEEEP BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP!

I am not proud of myself. 

Truly, the experience has made me question who I am as a person. Why is it that people jumping out and invading my personal space sends my brain into convulsions of terror? WHY. I can promise you this, if you abandon me during the Zombie Apocalypse because I am a mewling coward who is only holding you back, I forgive you. Ego te absolvo. 

For the rest of the time at the amusement park, I had my family escort me, protecting me from the halloween actors who ramble through the park, randomly scaring people. Hovering over my forehead there must be a giant black arrow that reads EASY PREY, because these "actors" (sadistic teenagers in halloween makeup) continuously crept up behind me, yelling BOO in my ears, in my mother-effing SACRED personal space, scaring the crap out of me. If I wasn't a chronically constipated woman who never ever unclenches, I would have shat myself right then and there.

Will I ever go to a haunted house again? NO. But more importantly, will my husband ever try and convince me to go to a haunted house again? N to the O. As scared as I was during the haunted house, I think I scared my husband more, making him wonder what the hell kind of crazy he married. It might take me awhile to get the scary images of the haunted house out of my mind, but it will take my husband even longer to get the image of me, mascara-racooned, gibbering, and spastically screeching, out of his. 

Monday, October 14, 2013


When I was in high school I had a history teacher who had a few phrases that he used over and over and over again. Such as, "he didn't know his left foot from a pump handle!" and, she was "dumber than a crowbar!" Last week, I did something that made me dumber than a crowbar. Everybody makes extraordinarily stupid mistakes sometimes. In fact, this same history teacher once filmed himself for a school board review with his zipper down the entire class time. We all do stupid things. But what makes mine especially epic was that I MISSPELLED THE NAME OF MY OWN STORE.

Oh hai, my name iz the cotten floozy
I have spelled my name countless times. I type it several times a day. But somehow my brain got tripped up while I hand-chalked it on this lovely sign. Ever since I conked my head last year, I have these dementia moments that are so spaztically stupid. Once my friend mentioned in a conversation that she was going to go and visit "Melissa and John." I replied, "who are they?" She looked at me worriedly, "Your brother and his wife." DOH. Because I am used to saying "John and Melissa" instead of "Melissa and John," my brain couldn't recognize the pattern.

I am worried that I am going crazy.

I might definitely be going crazy.

So when you see the photo of me and my booth in The City Weekly, please go easy on me.

Luckily, I wasn't wearing pants so there is no chance of my zipper being down in the photo. Not that I wasn't *not* wearing pants. I was wearing a dress. Oh crikey. Speaking of zippers down, watch this little video my daughter made on her nintendo ds.


I think my daughter is straight.