…and remember, the next scream you hear could be your own!
The time has come to Trick 'r Treat: All Hallow's Eve. Mischief Night. This is Halloween.
Getting into the spirit this year was harder than ever. So by the time October 1st rolled around I was pretty depressed. I had no costume in mind for my favorite day of the year. Instead, my mind was haunted with the last decade of costumes, from scary cosplay to celebrity cosplay to character cosplay. But I wanted to be something scary this year. In fact, I would have killed to be. I had been running my mouth off since Halloween 2014, saying that my next costume would be Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. But how quickly Halloween 2015 came. And now here we are. And I had not a single costume idea in mind, except for a brief conversation about a group Clue crew. But then a quick brainstorming costume session with my two younger cousins finally got me in the mood. That, and watching family Halloween movies and just straight up horror ones too. Listen, Oogie Boogie will happen. Maybe Halloween 2016. But this year... it would not be worth it to blab. Find out for yourself. If you dare... LYDIA DEETZ: 2005
JANIS JOPLIN: 2006
ALICE IN WONDERLAND: 2007
THE JOKER: 2008
JUDY JETSON: 2009
TANK GIRL: 2010
WILLY WONKA: 2011
LIZA MINNELLI: 2012
CARRIE WHITE: 2013
WHITE NUN (AMERICAN HORROR STORY): 2014 REGAN MacNEIL: 2015
Since when do people not know how to wait on line? Imagine if you will: it is 7:30 in the morning, you are tired and cranky, and certainly not a morning person. You arrive at the bus stop where people appear to have forgotten the fundamentals, not to mention the common courtesy, of waiting patiently in an orderly place on line. No! Let’s do away with lines , I think they think as they cluster-fuck together in a clump (or a crowd as some people call it) so that there is no rhyme or reason— and just so I can piss the fuck out of all the other passenger-people . Maybe if you would wait on line you could be lucky enough to stand next to me and hear me bitch about how people do not know what a line is anymore. Here is a line: Here is a line of people: Here is a bus line: Here is a clump (or a crowd—a clumpy crowd): I am just short of snapping and holding a sit-in, or a stand-in—a strike more like it. But there is only so much I can d
This is kind of like everything I have ever said (similar to my post about putting things in inappropriate places, or just where they do not belong— Tear Down That Bitch of a Bearing Wall ). This kind of situation that I will talk about in a few sentences from now happens with words and sentences and idioms and things. Perhaps this is how we have come to know some of our most ridiculous and popular phrases like white on rice or call a spade a spade or putting my foot in my mouth . See, but if one is to do their research I am more than positive that there are reasons and explanations for those exact sayings. But there may not be a reason at all for what I am about to explain. You know those instances, where you just do not say what you want to and your brain takes over and that little guy inside manically laughing rewires the word choices of your brain so that there you are saying some barbarically asinine statement. There are a few logical reas
It all started with someone’s status on Facebook being, “Nook or Kindle?” and me writing back, “Book.” The status writer cleverly or stupidly spat, “I think you spelt Nook wrong. And anyway I am just looking to read, no fancy stuff.” So I remarked, “Like I said, Book!” Later I told my dad the story inserting, “I need to turn pages!” as my reasoning for a book being the victor of a very pointless competition. “And if he wants to read to just read, why get a nook at all?” I continued. “He can’t say he read a book then, he just looked at a screen. That's worse than scanning a book.” I told my dad, “It’s like when you were reading audio books; you didn’t read them, you had them read to you . You listened to a book, but you certainly did not read one.” My dad said, “Screw you,” probably, and asked, “Then what would you say about a blind person reading a book?” “Oh, that’s easy," I said. “They felt a book up!”
Dear David Hasselhoff, I do not like you. You know how everyone has that one celebrity they cannot stand, who grids their gears, who irks them to the core—I am sure you have one too. Well, that one is you for me. I have no real reason to dislike you. I have never met you. Although a friend of mine worked for a major retail store, and as the story goes, this friend’s manager was serving you and your daughter and you tried to bargain down a thousand dollar coat and made a whole scene when you were denied. I have not even really familiarized myself with your work to make this judgment against you, but I have encountered just enough. This is not to say that I do not find you funny, I do. I found that video you made of Knight Rider funny, and some other appearances of yours, sure. But to be honest, I just cannot shake the distaste. And just like how I image it will be when I meet my future mate, I can pinpoint the exact moment this aversion arose. Vocal 8: senior year of high scho
*For Halloween, but mainly for Dan, without whom this story would never exist, because it happened to him (with a few of my artistic embellishments). Like I said, worked real hard on this. Hope I did the vision justice. A driver drives southbound-east in a car, shoving crusty chips in the corners of his cheeks. The bag of grease lounges on the passenger’s seat and the driver dips his hand in periodically, licking vinegar crystals off his fingers from the sea-salt snack. His other hand padlocks around the steering wheel, drives onward. His glasses fall to the point of his nose; eyes fixated on the pulsing potato chips and not the road ahead—those circular discs of caloric pleasure. The fatty deposits at his sides expand his smallish figure. The groan in his belly growls deeper. The radio dial flickers neon blue and reverberates off the lens of his frames onto the road before him. He watches as the light casts its image on the lane. Not a single c
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