Did You Know That If You Pee Hard Enough You Can Fly?

Or so I learned a few nights ago! I had always suspected a corollary between force of urine stream and the ability to hover, and my theory was proven. I'll present my paper to MENSA next week. Wanna know how I learned? No? Too damn bad, it's my blog, not yours. SO READ ON, FEARLESS.. UM, READER!

I had some friends come into town a few days ago-- the parents of my goddaughter, in fact (known by me as The Bean). Since Kari (the mommy) is from the 'Burg, she comes to visit her mother quite often, and we usually hang out one night while they're in town. They lure me with promises of Thai food, and we swap gossip and amusement for a few hours.

At the moment, my front door is jacked up, compliments of one of my nieces who went all She- Hulk Smash on it, so until I can afford to repair it, it's kept shut and locked, and I use the back door as my primary entrance/exit. My yard is horseshoe shaped, and I have a little forest of mature pine trees all over. So even in daylight it stays dim and cool in my yard, and at night there is little ambient light even if there's a full moon out. It's not really a problem though, as the path around my house is clear, and there are motion lights at both front and back door. The only place it's really dark is at the bottom of the horseshoe shape, but like I said, it's a an unblocked path way.

So what in the HELL was the cold, smooth thing that pressed against my right calf as I was sashaying to the door, thinking my usual filthy thoughts?

Now, I am usually in possession of a moderately rational side. I am extremely prone to flights of imagination, as Cins can attest, but if there is a reasonable answer for something I'm usually capable of finding it. I have NO IDEA what touched my leg, but let me promise you this: a mystery touch in total darkness is as bad if not WORSE than something touching you under water (unless you're swimming at night-- that's worse). I squealed and did not know I was running until I was at my back door and the motion light came on. I slammed my key in the lock and was inside with the dead bolt thrown in, I'd conservatively guess, one half second.

It was a lot like this, but with a kicky hair cut and pad thai left overs.

I was so spooked that I found I couldn't pee unless the bathroom window (which is near that corner though it does not actually over look it) was firmly closed.

Did I bolster my nerves, grab a flash light and a base ball bat and go out and look? Fuck no! Do I look stupid?! At worst it was some tiny, gibbering monstrosity that goes around pressing cold glass bottles against unsuspecting legs, at best it was a skunk, and either damn way, I lose in that equation!

I think I ran before he could get his teeth in.

I went and looked the next day, but there was, as expected, nothing there. There is literally nothing but the flat, pine needle-laden path, and the side of my house. I've since, several times, walked that path at night, and have been thankfully unfondled. I've resisted the urge to run it, but just barely, and that's more because I hate to run than anything else.

I've creeped myself out typing this, and I think I need a drink. Why do you make me do these things to myself, blog? Why??

Hooray! A happy ending after all!

Not a Good Idea?

I'm listening to the audiobook of The Exorcist, read by William Peter Blatty, the author.

This is some scary, scary shit.

My Horrible Secret.

I have a horrible confession to make.
Brace yourself.
I had never seen A Nightmare on Elm Street until about three days ago.
You can start throwing tomatoes at me any moment now.
Now I have seen the sequels. But the original Nightmare?
Nope.
Never have.
You may ask "Why? Why Cins?! Why are you such a travesty to have NOT seen this classic until three days ago? What the HELL is wrong with you!?!?!"
There is one reason and one reason ONLY why I have never seen the Original Nightmare.
And its this gentleman right here.



...seriously.
Freddy Krueger.
That is a horror villain that scares me more than if Pinhead, Jason, and Micheal Myers decided to start a football team and I was their ball girl. And because of this irrational fear I had as a child, I could not bring myself to watch the first Nightmare movie for years. The sequels? Well they were fun over the top insanity that I could easily separate myself from. But the first? Yeah...not so much.
You see, when I was a kid, my older sister went to see the first Nightmare on Elm Street. I was young and chicken shit and steered clear of movies of the horror kind. And yet, my older sister felt the need to tell me about the entire movie IN GREAT DETAIL because it would be funny. Needless to say, my child like imagination managed to take every scene she told me about and magnify it about %150. So yeah...terror inducing visuals soon followed me to my child slumber. I really do believe my insomnia stems from this moment.
No worries. I am getting my revenge on my sister by teaching my 1 year old nephew how to say "Mommy has thunder thighs".

Freddy is a scary mother fucker! I'm a 33 year old adult and I still worry about having nightmares about this man because who KNOWS what will happen then! My imagination is ruthless. I really don't know what sort of anal bowels of Freddy Hell I may end up in. I mean Jason and Micheal Myers will just kill you. Freddy, much like Pinhead, will destroy you and take you to eternal torment...just because the fucker can. Freddy scared me enough that it conditioned my brain to NEVER dream about him ever. As a little girl I would lay awake at night, covered clutched up to my chin as I chanted "Don't dream about Freddy don't dream about Freddy don't dream about Freddy". And I do believe it has worked.
Instead I dream about zombies.
Fair Trade.
But I did suck up my extremely...EXTREMELY retarded fear and popped in Nightmare on Elm Street. I bought it on DVD at Target and damn it, I was going to watch it!
Is it still scary?
Oh Hell yes it is.
While I don't think it tapped into that primal fear that my childish imagination did, it still is pretty damn creepy and screwed up. The first scene alone with Tina doing ceiling acrobatics is terrifying. And serious Freddy? Still damn scary. Since I watched the sequels first I was more used to freaky funny Freddy. And while I do prefer funny Freddy simply because he is more sadistic, serious Freddy is pretty fucked up.
The good part about this? I have not died in my sleep yet. But then I am not a teenager so I'm sure that makes a difference in who Freddy wants to murder.

But that is my deep dark horrible secret.
Please respect me in the morning.

So I Drew Some Things. BAD Things.

As I have mentioned several times, I saw [REC] at Cins' place last week, and it scrambled my terror receptors in ways that have yet to repair themselves. This post will contain SPOILERS for the Spanish horror movie [REC]. Rec is the original version of the movie that Quarantine was based off of, so this is also spoilers for Quarantine.

The movie is perfection, pure and simple, from the start with no credits, making it seem more like watching some random person's footage, to the fact that we never see Pablo's face, in essence making us Pablo, this was in my opinion the perfectly crafted horror movie. I spent most of the movie curled up in the corner of Cins' couch, hands over my face, making whimpering noises and imploring the cast to NOT DO THAT, much to Cins and Tanya's amusement. Bitches.

The zombies in this movie are fascinating and terrifying, a mesh up of the common zombie traits of current pop culture. They're fast, but no faster than they would have been before changing, and they can be killed in most of the traumatic ways that would kill a human. One is choked to death, another has its neck snapped, etc. I also loved that the change was unpredictable; the first two victims took some time, yet Guillim changed almost instantly. That the government only knew that speed varied by blood type was a great touch that lent this idea a scary reality.

But what scared me the most.. was the end. That thing in the attic; loose, wasted, looking for food. With a hammer in hand. Holy God, I have only been that scared before on a small handful of times in my entire life. The wrongness, the way it moved, the thought that something like that had been lurking for twenty years was all paralyzing.

So I drew it.




Background's sloppy at best, and the detail's a little washed, but over all, I think it came out well. Just pencil on sketch paper with a small tooth to it.





This one's done in charcoal and white conte crayon on the same paper as above. Unfortunately I lost some of the clarity when I matte sprayed the charcoal. That's what I get for using AquaNet, I guess.

Welcome to my nightmares.

Somehow, I survived the Night.

Cins and I, along with my friend Tanya who is visiting with me, watched REC last night. Somehow I lived through the night, but have no idea how since all I could see was a screaming face clutching a hammer.

I am officially terrified of the dark again.