Oct 292013
 

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Oh Henry, you shouldn’t have.

I swear, the older I get, the faster these months fly by. It is infuriating! We didn’t even go to a goddamn pumpkin patch this year (and here is where I remind myself that I actually hate pumpkin patches, but whatever)! But I did go to a fucking bushel of haunted houses, so it all evens out I guess.

(Bushel can definitely be a measurement for haunted houses.)

Anyway, here’s a bushel of photos from my phone that I would like to post here for posterity, plus some meaningless words. And I can do that if I want! Bushel bushel bushel!!

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Chooch’s eyeball shadow.

  • I usually talk to Henry on my cell phone while I’m walking to the trolley every day. We barely see each other during the week because of our opposing work schedules, so I basically call him 87 times a day until I get to work. He’s lucky that I abhor personal calls at work or else he’d never get a reprieve. Anyway, that’s not the point. So I was walking past the bank while I was yammering away about probably really important things (i.e. more shit I want Henry to do for me). There was an older woman in a motorized wheelchair, zooming toward me as I passed the bank, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that she stopped in front of the bank door. I turned around to see what she was doing and she was just sort of chilling in her wheelchair, facing the bank. I went back and asked her if she needed help with the door, and she said, “Oh yes, please! I didn’t want to ask you because you seemed like you were in a hurry.” The bank door opens into a foyer with another door at the end, so I had to walk inside with her in order to open the next door. I could hear Henry asking me what the fuck I was doing, because he knows how much I HATE TALKING TO STRANGERS so he probably thought I had run into an ex-boyfriend and advanced straight to the nearest alley to start an affair. As I opened the final door, the lady thanked me sweetly and mentioned again that she was sorry I had to stop for her when I was in such a hurry, and I assured her that I actually wasn’t in a hurry, and was about to joke that I just naturally walk like I’m an undercover CIA agent who’s headhunting a Nepalian jewel thief in Belfast, but then I didn’t want to talk about ambulation to someone who can’t walk because god, what an asshole I’d be. Anyway, the point to my story is that it really made me sad to think that this lady was too afraid to ask me, the only other pedestrian around at that time, for help because she didn’t want to bother me. I know I’m always “Blah blah, I hate people, go get fucked” but honestly, I could never be in “too much of a hurry” to help someone open a door, or cross the street, or chase down the hooker who stole their car keys. And fuck anyone who is. I may be a lot of lowly things, but “rude” is not one of them. Wheelchair or not, I always hold the damn door for someone. (Just not Henry or Janna. I like to force it shut on them. It’s a hobby.) Anyway, my own boyfriend of 12 years, having witnessed this via cell phone, was so astounded by me doing a good deed that his first instinct was to laugh at me.

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  • One day last week, Chooch stopped in front of this house and asked me to take his picture. “I wish this was one of the school picture backgrounds,” he said all wistfully. “Because this house is SO BEAUTIFUL.” I mean, it really is beautiful when your basis for comparison is the shanty we currently live in. But then I realized that this is the house that has the cinder block wall that Chooch loves to “parkour” on. So that explains that.

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  • Haunted House Journal excerpt from 10 years ago. I’m such a loser but I am secretly so proud of these journals. I’m also completely spazzing out because I am so behind with my haunted house chronicling. Let’s be honest here: if you’re a blogger, you know how much easier it is to type that shit out. Writing by pen is almost so archaic to me now that my hand cramps within two minutes and my hand writing looks like it matches my mental age. Totally awful, but I refuse to be defeated. Keeping a log of my October jam is way too important to let a little pen-in-hand lethargy win the war.

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I know it looks like he’s smiling but he was actually VERY MAD AT THE WORLD.

  • I’m having a really hard time focusing on things lately. I can barely even sit through a TV show. (Trust me, that’s not necessarily a bad thing; I’d love to go back to the days when I literally NEVER WATCHED TV. I was so much better off. Now Henry is reading this and getting a hard-on at the prospect of canceling cable, haha.) This probably also explains why I can’t keep up with haunted house journaling. I probably have ADHD or something but I refuse to be medicated so what does it even matter. Also, yesterday and today I think I had some sort of mild panic attack before work. It started to happen again earlier this afternoon when everyone was gathered around the cake corridor. We were celebrating our boss’s recent nuptials and I had to peace out right after the toast and retreat to my office-thing, where I rested my head on my keyboard until everyone started to make their way back to my quadrant. Either my anxiety is coming back full force or I’m way more averse to marriage/other people’s happiness than ever, thanks Henry. I’m telling you this because you’re my doctor, right?

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    • I love it when this guy rides the trolley because although he has Beats by Dre headphones, he inexplicably uses a real life CASSETTE WALKMAN, you guys! I can’t even explain the sweet, sexual nostalgia that’s dumped upon my head like a bucket of gland juice perspired during the filming of a Jodeci music video. And when he would eject the tape, flip it over, and then smash down the “Play” button with the fingertip force? SWOON, MOTHERFUCKER, SWOON. It made me want to eBay a yellow Aiwa Walkman, just like the kind I had in high school. Bitch, you best believe I still have the mixtapes for it. I’m not sure what the man was listening to at the time I stole his soul with my iPhone lens, but I can promise you that he was rocking the FUCK out to Queen a few weeks ago. It was goddamn adorable.
    • Speaking of cassettes, my buddy Alex asked me to make a Halloween mixtape for his Mixtape Monday blog thingie that he does. He posted it yesterday and I’m really excited about it because bone-chilling music rules. You should go check it out, OK?!!? I will now end this jumbled post with a video for one of my mixtape songs because I know you are going to be all like, “I will click that link, just not right now” and then tomorrow you’ll kind of think about it while shaving your mom’s back but then you’ll be “in too much of a hurry” just like one of those jerks who can’t even stop and open a fucking door for a crippled person!! And then by the next day, YOU’LL HAVE COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN THAT YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD CHECK IT OUT and why do I suddenly feel like this post is exorsizing all of my bottled-up feelings!?

  5 Responses to “Tuesday Psychotherapy”

  1. I love this post, and you win for the Birthday Party shout out. There are videos of them performing live on YouTube that make me wonder why every other band that came after didn’t just chop their instruments up for kindling and become accountants. Seriously.

  2. You know, it doesn’t surprise me that you helped the lady. I always say you have a much bigger heart than you let on. :)

    I love your handwriting. And the fact that you keep a haunted house journal.

    Sorry about the anxiety and possible ADHD. I’ve got both of those things and it’s a good thing I’m on medication because without it I’m a fucking psychopath. Really.

    I don’t know how I feel about that guy using Beats By Dre headphones with a cassette walkman. I mean, why not throw it completely back and get some of those super scratchy headphones?! Then we could all bask in the glory of whatever mixtape he’s listening to.

    Btw, that song makes me feel oddly homicidal. Is that weird?

    • I do have a big heart. I’ve just been fucked over in so many ridiculously stupid and devastating ways that I hate showing it, haha. I have all but shut down lately. I barely even talk to people at work anymore!

      It’s not weird that you feel homicidal while listening to that song—that’s why it’s on my Halloween mixtape! I built the whole thing around the horror movie in my head. ;)

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