I have very little to complain about regarding this past weekend. Janna made the trek with us to the Conneaut Park haunted house on Saturday evening, but first we made a pit stop at some Italian restaurant in Meadville, which is where Janna went to college.
Meadville, not the Italian restaurant. I’d be pretty fucking pissed if I found out that Janna went to college at an Italian restaurant and hasn’t been spending the last 10 years serving me homemade gnocchi and tiramisu. That WOULD be just like her, though.
I can’t remember the name of the restaurant now, except that Janna kept talking about how amazing their wedgies are, which was funny because wedgies, you guys. Wedgies. Chooch started to feel not so hot during dinner and Henry was not being sympathetic at all because he felt that for sure Chooch was just reacting to the fact that he wasn’t getting his way, but I can’t even remember what exactly was “the way” that he wanted. I actually wasn’t feeling so great either but I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want Henry to be all, “THAT’S IT, I’M TURNING THIS CAR AROUND” even though we were still at the table eating, because I DIDN’T WANT TO GO HOME! I WANTED TO GO TO THE HAUNTED HOUSE!
Meanwhile, Janna was getting prodded in her boob by the waitress.
Henry was being such a fucking sourpuss during dinner, but what else is new. He was actually fine once we got to GHOST LAKE OMG! I’m surprised he even took us there at all since it’s more than an hour away and Henry hates haunted houses because they “do nothing” for him. Ghost Lake turned out to be one of the best decisions ever. I wasn’t sure which direction it was going to go, considering Conneaut Park is in such a sad state of disrepair and barely any rides are operable. But that ended up only adding to the ambiance and allure of Ghost Lake. There were 13 different haunted houses (well, the last one was technically just a ride on the roller coaster, which I politely declined because it was raining and that wooden bastard is scary enough on a sunny day, and actually, two people got hurt on it that very night so there) scattered around the park’s property. Some of them were in legit abandoned houses, and one was inside the Hotel Conneaut which is purportedly haunted. They weren’t all on point, but each one made me laugh and scream AND THE PEOPLE THERE TOUCHED US! Not anything out of control, but they would grab our ankles and shoulders as we walked by which was creepy and I loved it. I’ll let Chooch cover the rest of the details but I just want to add that I got to push Janna like 87 times and then tried to close her into one of those stupid inflatable birthing passages. And she just continues meandering about her merry way. I don’t know how she does it. I mean, Henry is really patient but even he loses it constantly and slips into a frown-gown.
Which brings me to Sunday night, when Henry, Chooch and I drove to Vienna, Ohio for our Darkride and Funhouse Enthusiast club leader’s home haunt. First though, we stopped down the street at Yankee Kitchen which was—and I’m going to say something that I would never say because I loved this place so much it makes me stupid—AMAZEBALLS. Yeah, I just wrote that on the Internet and I’m not sorry because this place really was like the freshest, manliest, hunkiest balls that God ever created, dunked into a goblet of motherfucking amazement. And then the Yankee Kitchen offered it as a blue plate special. Only things missing were Flo and Alice. The waitresses were too young and non-waitress-y! But there was an entire line of Olds at the counter and short order cooks who looked like they moved to Vienna from a place where the hills have eyes.
Henry was super irritated because Chooch and I were mocking the cook every time he’d put up an order in the window. Especially after he screamed, “FISH DINNNNNNER!” We were almost under the table in fits at that point, and Henry was doing that nose-flare, widened-eye silent warning thing that he mistakenly thinks scares us but actually only makes us lose it even harder. Get a clue, Henry.
I had a really good grilled cheese and then used the last of the toilet paper in the bathroom when I peed and didn’t tell anyone.
After the home haunt (Grimm Manor, which again, I will let Chooch write about) we drove a few miles away to Sharon, PA for Ghoul Mansion, where I got to flash our Darkride and Funhouse Enthusiasts membership cards at the ticket booth for a discount (we saved $12 total!) while Henry hunkered back into the shadows because he was embarrassed by how elitist I was acting.
We had a tiny bit of a wait inside the Mansion but it was OK because the line-actors were stellar. There was this girl dressed a bloody surgeon and she kept trying to lick Chooch and me. It was disgusting and awesome. I applaud her commitment to her role.
Some bloody photographer made us pose for a picture in the very first room, which I thought was just a set-up for something horrible to happen, and I was right because it turned out to be a real photo and you know I hate having my picture taken, but I thought my hair looked good so I made Henry buy a copy. Also, that coat is my grandma’s from the 1980s. I used to visit her and she would start pulling shit out of her cedar closet for me to take home. I have this really pretty lavender trench coat-type thing that everyone always asks, “OMG WHERE DID YOU GET THAT” and I literally say, “The Cedar Closet” like I know about some secret society boutique. I haven’t been able to wear it in a few years though because HENRY needs to sew new buttons on it. God Henry, you fucking suck.
Speaking of Henry, look at his molester-y side-eyes. I hate him. (No really, we’ve had 87 fights today regarding Halloween and costumes and our marital status.)
Anyway, some asshole in a Jason mask separated Chooch and me from Henry by pretending to do us a favor (there was another one of those stupid inflatable vaginas that I didn’t want to walk through so he offered a “shortcut”) but what he really does was shut Chooch and I into a pitchblack room with the instructions to “GO TO YOUR RIGHT.” Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere! So Chooch and I stood there, holding hands, ALONE IN THE DARK and I almost started to cry (OK, I cried) and I just repeatedly shrieked, “HENRY! HENRY! HENRY!” over and over, as if he doesn’t hear THAT enough. Chooch however was very still and silent.
Henry said that basically he was forced to walk through a darkened maze alone while the actors weren’t even trying to scare him, and all he could hear was my big mouth from a distance. There was some monster I couldn’t see that was apparently standing right next to us and he kept screaming, “HENRY’S DEAD! I ATE HIM!” and I can’t remember the last time I was so scared and happy all at the same time, maybe the time I realized it was just brain matter and not menstruation on my white seersuckers. Then the monster yelled, “You can have her back now, Henry! She’s annoying me” so we were finally reunited.
Ghoul Mansion I think is going to make it into my Top 3 for the season. I was actually sweating by the time we made it out.
Henry applauds himself for pissing in a portajohn, a real life Bitstrip.
Seriously, speaking of Bitstrips, I’m not sure what is what more annoying: The actual posting of the Bitstrips or the people bitching about the posting of the Bitstrips. If you have logged into Facebook even once in the last two weeks, you probably know what I’m talking about.
By the end of the night, Henry was completely done with us.
And Chooch was fucking exhausted.
Here’s a video! Henry has a two-second sound byte in this that rivals the beloved NO YOU CAN’T HAVE A SHAKE! line from the “Henry Eating Ice Cream” video of last spring. Oh, memories.
My throat hurt from screaming and my stomach ached from laughing: sure signs of a fucking good weekend.