Friday, October 29, 2010


I was recently informed that, like my son, I have ADHD.
Disbelieving such heresy, for I am perfect, I looked back at my childhood.
I was taken aback.
The hyperactivity – check. In fact I was hyper up until about 18 when I started smoking. I guess smoking does have its plus side. Except now I have traded disdain and avoidance due to maniacal behavior for disdain and avoidance due to an icky smell.
The focus – (or lack of) – OK yeah I can see that as well. My 2 best friends, who have also been diagnosed with ADD and ADHD, we used to have conversations that would make the listening parties heads spin. Topic to topic, sentence left having or filled in by each other the 3 of us would carry on about 5 to 7 conversations with each other at a time.
The brain that won’t shut up – BIG check there. That’s where my insomnia comes from is not being able to shut the stupid fucker up at night. Some days it is like a crowded elevator with everyone talking at once, as loud as possible. Other days it is like a superball stuck in a perpetual wall to wall bounce.
Ok so I can see where they are coming from and I did some reading and I can se where THEY are coming from.
First off since my son has it and it is a genetic disposition so I am already 50% in the hole here. So I went online looking for some tests. Now if you have been paying attention you will know why I did not rush of to the doctor to get his learned attention. If you haven’t been paying attention then you have homework to do and there will be a quiz!
And took them, yes them as in plural
And then took others
I think I was looking for a different answer
…later that night after I had taken well over a dozen different tests from a myriad of different places I admitted consent and defeat.
Most had a really close grading scale with 80 and above being “serious adult ADD”
or the equivalent to “Holy Fuck dude! You are a ticking time bomb!”
The one test I didn’t care much for a high grade and I blew the top off of it.
Say hello to Mr.93
On a scale from 1 to 10 I scored an albatross.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

More Horror

OK so the school could not find a building for their spook house so they are going to hold it outside in a forest. Not really my forte' but this is what I was able to come up with


Cannibal Joe’s Cabin w/ Trapper Bear – inbred cannibal brothers
Idea: jar of cockroaches reaches in grabs one and eats it offers jar to victims
Really reaches into dish behind the jar and grabs bite sized Baby Ruth
but the angle makes it look real!
Idea : Human flayed skin up on wall, chained up victim missing leg – leg roasting on spit
Idea: Trapper bear comes up behind with traditional chainsaw.

Wolf Pack – eyes light up in the bushes. Sounds and rustles and growls. Surrounded by the pack.
Idea: no actors needed. All electronic. Victims break a beam and that starts the sounds (growls, snarls) then the eyes start to light up in the brush as it gets louder.
A electric motor and some fishing line attached to bushes to make them shake and rustle.

Spider Queen – Giant spider and it’s victims hanging from the trees. Shoe sticking out here, dogs tail sticking out there. Hanging from the trees. Live victim? Look Up! Big spider starts to descend?
Could use crunchiness here as smaller spiders running around the forest floor.

Coven – Witches with giant cauldron with smoke and small children inside pleading for help.

The summoning – Satanists with victim in a pentagram. Chest is open while he is alive and eating his innards.
Idea: shallow divot in ground for actor to lay in and the fake torso/ body laid on top of him that way his head, arm and leg can move and react

Peek-a-boo – (running gag) - a torso and head attached to a motor peeks from behind trees.
Basically “did I just see what I think I saw?” Use faded colors for a ghostly appearance?

Twins – One girl is laying on the ground obviously dead while her “ghost” stands next to her pleading for help.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Horror House

PHM is in band in high school and they are putting together a haunted house to raise money for a band trip in April. Here are some of the ideas I was able to put forth.

Blood Bath
As the visitor walks in they see an all white tiled bathroom. Has a Sink, a tub and bright lights in 2 corners to really make it glow bright. Everything looks rather normal and pristine. Then the lights go out and black lights come on revealing a massacre. Blood everywhere even up to where the visitors are. Words scrawled in blood saying “help me” and “he watches” splattered on the walls floor and ceiling.
Then the visitors notice the killer in the corner glowing covered in “blood”

Glow in the dark paint is white and shows up great under a black light. The killer can be costumed to blend in with the bathroom walls. That and standing behind one of the bright lights should camouflage his presence. Then when the lights switch to black his form can be revealed in the glow in the dark paint. Maybe have a “victim” in the tub as well? Not sure.

Visitors come in on one end of a hallway. Looks like a normal house or hotel hallway with wall sconces, trim, etc. At the end of the Hallway are twins dressed alike. Pale skin, hollow eyes and tattered dresses? The lights go out and come on and the twins are closer to the group. They beckon and “want to play”
Lights go out and come back on and they are closer. This time they are menacing and armed (small hatchet, bloody scissors?) and just as they lunge the lights go out and come back on and they are gone.

The lights in the sconces are REALLY bright where the visitors come in and go down in wattage as the hallway continues. This will keep the visitor’s eyes from adjusting properly. This effect is “sold” by the actors. The hallway is created with 2 false walls that come out from the wall at a 30 to 45 degree angle. This will create a gap large enough for the actors to disappear into. Maybe have the walls pinstriped to help create the illusion of a complete wall. Each time the lights go out the actors take two tandem steps forward until they reach their mark for their disappearance. Fog rolling in couldn’t hurt either. End of the hallway needs to be dark as possible to hide movement.

Visitor has to climb into a sewer to escape. Inside the sewer they can hear the scuttle of little feet, chatter of insects and various other noises. As they crawl they realize that they are not alone, the ground crunches under their hands moves across their hands. When they come to a power junction box a light flares up and they can see that they are surrounded by cockroaches.

The crawlway is a good idea! Using packing peanuts across the bottom is ok and will work well as filler. However, if you soak whole peanuts (in their shells) in water the shells will retain the water both inside the nut and in the shell. Then when someone puts their hand down and pressure it will pop, squish and crunch quite effectively (and not be as messy as something like grapes would be). This will help in adding to the cockroach clusters.
Dressing the entrance as the opening to a corrugated sewer grate would work as well. The power junction box would be just a way to explain a light coming on. If there was a safe way to make it pop and fizzle that would add even more to the ambiance.

Hillbilly Picnic
I have always thought that the best way to scare someone is to attack their sense of reality and safeness. I think that with this room this can be done 2 ways.
1.A “kid” is incorporated into the group at the beginning of their adventure through and he is either taken forcefully from the group or just disappears. He is “found” later at the hillbilly picnic, bloody and torn, screaming at the guests to “run, get out, it’s all real!”
2.As the group walks into the kitchen to their right is a chain link fence and immediately there is barking and rattling and the sounds of huge hungry dogs.
3.There are 2 hillbillies carving up meat on a table and by the corpses hanging around the room it aint an animal either. When the dogs bark they turn their attention to the group.
Here it can turn out 2 different ways.
A.The tour can hightail it on outta there as quickly as possible
B.The victim can get an arm free and attack a hillbilly while yelling at the group to RUN.
I know this might be a little too high concept and dramatic to be feasible, but the overall effect can still be incorporated.

1.This is accomplished with 3 young men dressed exactly alike, like a boy scout or a Webelo. All wearing the same red hoodie and blue jeans and ball cap. They start out with the group because “they got left behind” or “their mom wouldn’t go” something like that. The boys will make his self known with the group but not pester. The group has to come to understand that he is with them.
a.The first 2 boys rotate so there is always one of them waiting for a tour. In a high state of anxiety and anticipation the group is not going to scrutinize the boy at best note his bright clothes. This is good. Once the boy is separated from the group he runs back around to the next tour coming in. (actually depends on where he is grabbed but maybe 3 boys would work better as the bait).
b.The 3rd boy is dressed the same but in disarray, chained to the wall bloody amongst the cannibals. He is the next meal for “processing”
2.The dogs consist of nothing more than some chain fence, a recording and someone to shake the fence. The louder the better.
3.Hillbillies are something along the mutant cannibals from “chainsaw massacre” or “the hills have eyes”. Inbred, ugly, dirty and hungry. Easy costume over all. Some overalls and some dirt and maybe fake teeth (or a mask if someone is shy)
4.The meat can probably be gotten as refuse from Stroots. Just have hooks hanging from the ceiling with chunks of meat hanging from them like a meat locker.
5.If there is an extra actor then could always use one on the table being hacked up.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Stuff Worth Seeing

Stuff Worth Seeing

Take a second and look.
MAN! I have always wanted a house with my own Batcave!!

My Sword of Damocles

   Back in 1998 my Princess was all of 2 years and my Beast was still in mommy’s tummy. I was working for big and beautiful Boeing at the time pulling in 50 to 60 hours a week and making bank.
So much so that I was able to take my family to the Mecca of all things glorified “DISNEYWORLD”. Just so happens that also at the very time we left I was expecting my settlement money from Boeing for my back injury so money was not an option for us.
I love Disneyworld.
  I love the atmosphere.
    I love how it might be late in the day and you might be the 153rd person to ask someone where the bathroom is and they treat you as if you are the very first person to ask that question all week.
       I am a fan.
 My parents took me twice to Disneyland and once to Disney world (and to Knotts Berry Farm, Universal studios, Silver Dollar City, Canada, Mount Rushmore, Grand Canyon, etc.) I was truly privileged as a kid to be able to do all that. I knew that then and I know that now. So much so, that I envy me at that age getting to do all those things and doing them together as a family.
But there is a downside.
Now I have that hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.
My parents were able to take me to all these wonderful places and once long ago I was able to take my little girl to Disneyworld.
Now they are aging at the speed of light and I am running out of time and I feel like such a failure for not getting my son to Disneyworld.
The money just has not been there. I really don’t want to get a second job again either. I have done that before and it is draining on every resource available. I lose the time with the family that I hold most precious and I physically end each week just wiped out already, how could I do that with 2 jobs. I have even gone so far as to consider chemical enhancements of the illegal variety to keep me up and running but I have an addictive personality (if it feels good do it) and a genetic flaw toward addiction as well (my father was an alcoholic) . I don’t want to even come near that slippery slope.
Taking my kids to Disneyworld means a lot to me. It’s not a shallow “keeping up with the Jones’s” thing either, it is a matter of pride (for one) and it is a matter of wanting to share with my children parts of my childhood that meant so much to me.
   I figure I have a maximum of 3 years left to get this done and I have been feeling this pressure for the past 10 years. Each year something has happened where it cant be done. Whether it be jobs, job markets, deaths doesn’t matter. As nitebyrd put it once, I really pissed off some cosmic force.
So everyone check under your sofa cushions, look in the dryer vents and if you find an extra 6 grand just give me an email.
I will be right here.
Not like I am going anywhere.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Dog Days are behind us

I am a man torn asunder.
We have in our family right now a small poop beast named Jasper. He is a chuiauhia, a chiwawa
a small Mexican dog. (don’t you hate it when you cant even get close enough for spell check to figure it out? Right now, it’s telling me “hmmm sorry dude I got nothing. There is nothing in my vast dictionary that even comes close to that jumble of letters you threw down. Seriously, is that a 2?”)
  Anyway he came to us last year because a coworker of my mom’s needed to get rid of her best bud as he was being too noisy in her apartment. I verified it was ok with the wife, even leaving the decision up to her and she said “yeah” and “sure”
So the dog moves in and chaos ensues.
A whole year of peeing and pooping on the carpets has the wife in a tizzy (The dog was pooping and peeing not the wife)
The boy started of picking on the dog without mercy. He loved to bully him and carry him around and scare the beejeezers outta him.
The Princess hated him as soon as she was told to cleanup after him.
I just petted the dog and fed the dog and talked to him.

So now days
The wife hates the dog
The dog LOVES me. I am the alpha master.
The princess dislikes the dog
And the Beast calls the dog his “bestest friend”

An opportunity has recently arisen to give the dog back to it’s original owner who misses him a lot. I have even explained that he is not the same dog she had before.
He is a lot meeker, better behaved and doesn’t even bite anymore.
She is ok with that.

So now we vote.

Wife and Princess both vote for the dog to hit the bricks.
My son votes he has to stay or else he really will have no friends (OUCH. Solid blow to the gut on that one)
I am at a point with the dog that I am impartial as to where he goes. I like him but if it means everyone else shutting up I can part with him.
So I leave it up to the wife.
“I have created the opportunity, I have made the connections. Now I will leave the decision up to you. If you want to get rid of the dog then go ahead but if you don’t I don’t want to hear anymore complaints.”

Was that wrong of me?
To drop the whole decision directly on my wife’s shoulders?
I can see how it could be.
I would move mountains to bring a smile to my sons face
However he and his mom have a special bond. He is a mama’s boy (not in a bad way though) just as the Princess is a daddy’s girl.
I figure if someone has to be the bad guy here, it’s better her then me.
Plus I like the dog, I think he is a pretty good dog.
Sure he meows like a cat , snorts like a pig and whines like a bitch.
He is still a pretty decent dog.

This is the 3rd dog we have gone through too.
The first one was Paco who “was too big to be a house dog” (not my quote obviously)
I loved that dog. Strong like bull!
He was a German Sheppard, Chow and Lab mix.
One time he ran around the entire circumference of the yard with my nephew plastered to his chest like a bug on a windshield.
Alas, He jumped through the wooden gate and it slammed shut behind him and he strangled to death. I wept.

Then years later came Sweedy. A little Silky I picked up on the way home from work. She was just trotting down the middle of a busy road heading for the intersection. I scooped her up and brought her home. She was very dirty and very thirsty and very hungry. The wife did not like her because she was pooping in the house, so rather than take her to the shelter my mom adopted her from us. She is so very smart and is just a sweet little rat (the dog not my mom).

Now we say goodbye to Jasper.
I hope he can be happy again back with his old master.
I think I will miss him.
I hope I am not damaging my boy for life in doing this.

Monday, October 11, 2010

I find this fascinating

humor me


Posted in Literature by Greg Ross on August 28th, 2010
In 1989, Jules Verne’s great-grandson opened a disused family safe and found a forgotten manuscript. Composed in 1863, Paris in the Twentieth Century imagines the remote future of August 1960 — a world illuminated by electric lights in which people drive horseless carriages powered by internal combustion and ride in automatic, driverless trains.
In Verne’s vision, the citizens of Paris use copiers, calculators, and fax machines; inhabit skyscrapers equipped with elevators and television; and execute their criminals in electric chairs. Twenty-six years before the Eiffel Tower was erected, Verne described “an electric lighthouse, no longer much used, [that] rose into the sky to a height of 152 meters. This was the highest monument in the world, and its lights could be seen, forty leagues away, from the towers of Rouen Cathedral.”
Verne’s publisher had returned the manuscript because he found it too dark — in addition to the city’s technological wonders, it describes overcrowding, pollution, the dissolution of social institutions, and “machines advantageously replacing human hands.”
“No one today,” he had written, “will believe your prophecy.”

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Peaceful and a bit sad.

Kuroshio Sea - 2nd largest aquarium tank in the world - (song is Please don't go by Barcelona) from Jon Rawlinson on Vimeo.

It's HUGE and gorgeous but still a bit sad watching the animals.
Never to be free. Circling around and around, caught in a life of no danger and no excitement.
Same thing day in and day out.
Do they know? Do they feel? Do they think?
Yet we do the same things to ourselves voluntarily, even on purpose. 
Job Security. Emotional Stability. Avoiding Conflicts. 
Go with the flow. Dont make waves.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010


The Egg
By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.