A Tale of a Klutz and a Halloween Scare

I’m not going to lie–one of my personal* favorite** compliments is when I’m told I’m a badass. It’s actually a little hilarious because with how many stupid things I’ve done and continue to do I don’t see how I can be a legitimate badass. Sure I’ve attacked a home intruder with pen and threw a cheating guy’s keys down the sewer drain, but I’ve also fallen on the floor of my gym from laughing too hard and locked myself in a public toilet. The only possible way that I could truly rock the badass moniker is that I’ve learned to roll with my foibles and see them as comedies to be shared rather than embarrassments to be hidden. To illustrate this point, and in honor of (New Jersey’s) Halloween today, I’m going to share a tale of past Halloween scare.

*This is my favorite compliment as a person, but I’ll admit that my absolute, overall favorite compliments are about my writing.

**I’ve finally switched my spellcheck from UK to USA so the extra “U”s will be gone.

This tale took place during a time when I behaved incredibly un-badass. Not surprisingly this was during my early teens when pretty much everyone feels like shit about themselves. A group of friends and I went on a Halloween “Walk of Horror” at a camp where you took a guided walk through the woods and masked monsters would jump out to scare you.

running scared, haunted house attrationThe walk ended in the section of the camp where there were a dozen or so log cabins. There was a bonfire blazing and we were rewarded with hot cigar and warm donuts for making it through the woods. We had been chatting and enjoying a treats for about five minutes when the sound of a chainsaw ripped through the air, and a guy dressed as Leatherface ran out from one of the cabins. Everyone screamed louder than I have ever heard (to this day) people scream and scattered in all directions. This was back before I had any kind of martial arts or weapons training so my instinct was still “flight” rather than “kick your fucking ass” and I ran along with everyone else. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of plastic against my face and thinking ‘OH MY GOD I CAN’T MOVE!’ and then I found myself on the ground with people staring at me. Apparently I had been so terrified that I had bolted and ran smack into one of the cabins (which had been covered with black plastic…I’ve still no idea why) and knocked myself out.

I was embarrassed at the time but luckily I outgrew being self-conscious of my klutziness and find it hilarious now. It’s a good thing, too, since I’ve knocked myself out at least twice since that story.

Who else has a Halloween story to share? It doesn’t have to be embarrassing–although that will earn you extra Kat points for ballz.

Why You Should Buy a Haunted House

If there’s one thing I know about myself it’s that I enjoy a challenge. I love learning how to do new things, and I’m especially keen to do something if someone has told me that I can’t. Far too many people give up on something just because it’s not easy. For example, there is a house down the street from me that has been on the market for years. Recently I noticed that the realtor sign in the front changed from one company to another. I didn’t think much of it, but then a neighbour happened to mention that the original realtor gave up on trying to sell the house because it’s haunted, or in professional terms a “stigmatized property.” I personally think that the realtors gave up too easily because it would simple to sell a haunted house. Let’s take a look at the benefits.

A Constant Excuse to Redecorate

Every couple of years my mother gets the urge to repaint at least one room of the house. This used to drive my father mad because he couldn’t see any reason to redo a room that still looked fine. A couple that lives in a haunted house could avoid this argument because if there is alternately blood and/or ectoplasm running down your walls, you’re going to need to do frequent repainting. If you hate the shade of blue that you chose for the living room, don’t worry. A cascade of gore is sure to pour down soon and give you an excuse to paint again in a different shade. Double points for saving your marriage by eliminating an argument.

Also, do you hate the pictures or the knickknacks adoring your abode? Again, just wait a short time and everything is sure to get thrown across the room and broken so you’ll be able to buy all new shit to collect dust on your shelves.

Home Security

haunted house for sale, haunted real estateI don’t know how much ADT or other home security systems cost, but they can’t be cheap. I’m sure that the system itself is expensive, but then the monthly monitoring fee is probably ridiculous, too. Just imagine how much money someone would save if they had a ghost to keep the burglars out. As soon as it got around in the burglar community that if you go into a certain house that you would immediately be covered in bite marks or attacked by flies as a gravely voice tells you to “GET OUT”, you could leave your front door wide open and no one would try to take your shit. Double points if the intruder ends up in therapy.

Never Lonely

I really like this perk because this is perfect for senior citizens. How many times do you hear your grandparents tell you that you never visit? How about that they are lonely? One solution is to move Gramps or Gram to a retirement home but those places are expensive as fuck! A haunted house is so much cheaper. Stigmatized properties go for a fraction of the cost and your elders are never alone with a ghost or five bumping around. Double points if the elderly person is forgetful and leaves lights on or neglects to flush the toilet because there are ghosts that will do that for them. Finally, when your elderly family member passes away, they’ll already have new friends on the other side!

There are many other benefits of owning a haunted house such as having cool disco lights for parties, getting to sing “It’s Raining Blanche”, and charging for tours during Halloween, but these three are the most impressive. So what are you waiting for? These houses are dying for you to buy them.

(Mwahahahaha.)
((More Halloween-palooza to come.))

The Battle for the Halloween McNuggets

Sibling fightsDespite the large gap in age, my brother, (known as Gator on here), and I are very close. And as with all siblings who are close we tend to antagonize the shit out of each other. As a matter of fact I just remembered this weekend–while hanging out with my dear Jewels–that I found out that I liked pumpkin pie because my brother liked it, did something (I don’t remember exactly) to annoy me and I ate the last piece of Thanksgiving pumpkin pie out of spite.

While there are always new and traumatizing ways to annoy each other, one battle in particular has been raging for years:

The Battle for the McDonald’s Halloween McNuggets.

The Happy Meal is one of McDonalds’ most evil schemes ever. The lure of fast food is kryptonite enough for the average American child, but throw in a toy that comes with that salt-laden, diabetes-inducing garbage and you might as well change the name from “Happy Meal” to “Parent’s Worst Nightmare–(unless you’re a trailer troller, then it’s probably “Parent’s Best Friend”).   In October of 1993 and 1996 the Happy Meal weapon of choice toy was plastic nuggets dressed in different Halloween costumes. There were six nugget, each with a different face and costume with could be mixed and matched between the nuggets. It was pure evil marketing genius. I was a teenager at that time so I manged to avoid being snared in these heinous traps but my brother was only a kid and fell for them hook, line and cholesterol. My mother was not one to overindulge us in fast food, however my brother did manage to collect all twelve Halloween McNuggets.

Over the years, my brother lost interest in playing with the Halloween McNuggets and my mother grew more attached to them. They were no longer toys but my mother’s favourite Halloween decorations. She became so protective of these bits of plastic bits of commercialism that when a house guest admired them, she counted the nuggets after they left to make sure that they hadn’t taken any.

About ten years ago–when my brother was the teenager and I’m was a so-called adult–my mother, knowing how much I love Halloween made a remark my having the Halloween McNuggets after she was gone.

“What?!” my brother sputtered. “They’re mine!”
“You haven’t looked at them in years! And your sister loves Halloween,” my mother told him.
“I don’t care! And I like them, too!” my brother insisted.
“Since when?” I glared at him.
“Since always!” he glared back.
“Alright, then you can share them,” my mother replied.
“I’m not sharing! They’re mine!” my brother insisted.
“You won’t even share?” I snapped.
“No! They. Are. Mine!” my brother snarled.

Thus began the battle began.

Every year, when my mother pulls the McNuggets out of the attic and decorates the television stand with them, my brother and I argue over who will have custody of the nuggets. My brother insists that they were his toys. I point out that Mom bought them and took care of them. He counters that she doesn’t even always remember which face goes with which costume so that shows that he knows the nuggets better. (And I have to tell you that in typing this out I’m even more aware of what a bunch of fucking lunatics we are in this family–especially because it only gets worse.)

halloween mcnuggets, mcdonald'sTwo days ago I found out that the legend of my brother’s and my Battle for the Halloween McNuggets has spread across the family, and apparently they are taking sides.

“Is it true that Gator and Kat are fighting over the Halloween McNuggets?” my aunt called to ask my mother.
“Oh yes, this battle has been going on for years. I’m not worried about making provisions in my will about the house or the car, but I had better leave some clause in there about these nuggets. I told them that they had to share though Gator insists that he won’t,” my mother replied.
“Well they were Gator’s toys so he should get them all,” my aunt told my mother. “I’m sure that Kat didn’t want them at the time or we would have bought her some.”
I happened to hear this through the phone and was thunderstruck.
“What the fuck? I was a teenager! Of course I didn’t want them then! But Gator didn’t want them for years after he had them!” I bellowed.
“Your brother and your cousin used to play with them all together!” my aunt shouted through the phone back.
“Then I’ll take Shell’s!” I threatened (though I wouldn’t really take my cousin’s nuggets.)
“I have a few of them that Kat can have!” I heard my grandmother shout through my aunt’s phone (they live together–my graom doesn’t have that big of a mouth.)
“This is all because Gator won’t share!” I yelled, at which point my brother entered the argument so that there were five of us having one phone conversation and yes I realize how fucking mental this all is.

And so the battle rages on.

My aunt is on my brother’s side, my cousin is on my side, my grandmother is trying to be Switzerland and my mother is terrified that she is going to die and my brother and I will kill each in a fighting for custody of The Halloween McNuggets.

Who do you all think should win? And for the record, I’m not trying to claim all of the nuggets, I’m aiming for five, but Gator insists that they are all his.

*On a final ironic note neither my brother not I have eaten McDonald’s in years.

EDIT-If you read the comments then you will see that my cousin has switched sides. And now I will reconsider taking her nuggets.

A Drunk Unicorn

Why is the unicorn drunk? Because it drank half of my Tequila.

The question is: Is this a good thing?

Well, on one hand you have an intoxicated equine with a long, sharp protrusion stumbling around and at some point I’m sure that someone is going to get stabbed. Also, the brat stole half of my damn Tequila.

On the other hand, it’s a fucking unicorn! If I was going to share any of my precious Tequila it would definitely be with a unicorn. I wouldn’t even mind any unicorn slobber that got in my glass. As for the inevitable stabbing, yeah that would rather suck. But again I must point out that it’s a fucking unicorn, and if you have the choice between never seeing a unicorn and being stabbed by one, I’m going to go with stab away.

The point of this bit of what-the-fuck-is-Kat-talking-about?

go home unicorn you're drunk, drunk unicorn, tequilaThis is my own version of the glass half-full versus the glass half-empty scenario.

Last week I had my first two disappointments as a writer. (Truth be told, last week was psycho crazy or I would have updated sooner.) One of the disappointments was that I found out that I’d lost a writing contest that I had entered. It’s really not a big deal, but the magazine took six months to pick winners and after such a long wait (I’m very fucking impatient) I felt the punch harder than I usually would have. This is the nature of the beast though. Waiting six months for anything is not unusual, and disappointment is the rule rather than the exception, so you suck it up and work harder. The good news is that I can post the short story that I had submitted on here again for ya’all to read! *throws confetti* The other good news is that submitted this story forced me into finally coming up with a title for it. So here is Borne of Armour. For new readers, a quick warning that this is one of my rare “heavy” stories.

Another good news/bad news bit to mention is that I never heard from the winner of my first giveaway. It sucks for them to miss out on an awesome shirt, but the good news is that I’d picked a runner up who will be getting an awesome shirt and ad space on the sidebar. Congratulations to the incredibly lovely, Michael from Crazy Tragic Almost Magic! Her blog is both funny and touching so make sure to check her out!

On a final note, if you’ve been in the tales for a while then you know that I love October and I love, love, love Halloween. I have some really nifty stuff planned for this month to celebrate, and even if my current health status (which is unfortunately subpar thanks to the old ticker being a grab) keeps me from doing half of it (I’ve lots in mind) there will still be a shit ton of fun to be had up in here! I’M FUCKING EXCITED!

*gallops away on my unicorn laughing manically *

(This entry is also No. 28 on my 30 Posts of Shameless Shit, “Discuss a failure.” However I’m galloping off on a unicorn and drinking Tequila while failing so it’s pretty cool.)