I still have one more Halloween party to go to tomorrow night, therefore it is still acceptable to be writing about Halloweenish things on this here blog. Also, some people (my friend/haunted house companion Laura) would cry if I didn’t write about certain haunted houses from this season. And by doing so, I’m hoping that it will seduce some people (Laura) to comment.
Hundred Acres Manor
Gosh, thank god this one happened to open the same weekend Andrea was visiting from California. She had never gone to a haunted house before because she was under the impression that the “monsters” inside these things are allowed to touch people, and she is a HUGE germ freak. Plus, she would have rathered stay at my house and watch Lil’ Wayne videos on On Demand all night, but I made her see the light by doing a lot of whining and flashing my puppy-eyes, which have no effect on Henry anymore but always manage to arrest the will of newer people in my life.
In line for the Manor, Andrea got a Super Gulp of Pittsburghese, thanks to the Steelers-emblemed assholes behind us. I was actually kind of embarrassed by them and their careless, flagrant slinging of the word “yinz” and “jagoff.”
Luckily, we got to go inside the Manor without them, but they managed to catch up to us in one of the rooms, at which point we got to witness one of the girls say, “This is just like being in horror movie” except that she kept pronouncing it “whore” movie and Andrea and I were like YOU GOT THAT RIGHT.
Then a candlestick flung itself off a fireplace mantel and hit Andrea in the ribcage.
But at least it wasn’t a person touching her. (I wanted her to sue, but she rubbed her WWL’WD bracelet and said, “Nah, I’d rather just make it rain.”)
She claims she wasn’t scared, yet you should have seen her jump when we were inside the maze and a RANDOM MAN (not even a monster) rounded a corner and caught her off guard. It was the only time she screamed.
Me? Oh, I was fine. My usual valiant self. Until we arrived at the entrance of the maze and I could hear the chainsaw over yonder. I clung to Andrea and started doing this weird hunched-over side-step that I find myself resorting to every time I’m trying to creep around undetected by a chainsaw-wielder. But then, in addition to hearing that sickening mechanical whir, I began to smell the fumes, so I knew we were pee-stepping in the same direction as him and I just COULD NOT HANDLE IT so I started to run blindly, slamming into dead-ends, snagging Andrea’s purple granny-cardigan with one of my obnoxiously large and dangerous rings, until I rounded a corner and found myself face-to-face with him WITH NOWHERE TO GO BUT A FUCKING DEAD END. The exertion of my screaming combined with my heart slamming against my ribs nearly made me pass out until eventually I wasn’t able to scream at all, just wheeze and flail hysterically like an asthymatic teenager in a Little Red Riding Hood costume being chased around a barn at a Michael Myers-crashed Halloween party.
It was a really bad scene.
Chainsaw Guy eventually let me skirt past him, at which point I left Andrea and ran so fast that I somehow managed to find the exit without using my iPhone compass.
Walking back to the car afterward, I said to Andrea, “Um, that chainsaw wasn’t even on, was it?” And then she was like, “Oh my god, you’re right – it wasn’t. He was just holding it quietly at his side and you were crying like a little pussy.”
On the way home, I put on some Lil’ Wayne so Andrea could get her fix.
“That was fun,” she admitted, “but it was no afternoon at Planned Parenthood with Lil’ Wayne, that’s for sure.”
She really likes Lil’ Wayne.
Cheeseman’s Fright Farm
This was my first haunted house with Laura! Do you know how hard it can be when you’re a 32-year-old “grown-up” to find other “grown-ups” to want to spend money on this shit? Not really all that hard, but still. I even made a Jonny Craig-centric mix CD for to brainwash Laura on the traffic-riddled drive out to Scary Farmland, PA.
The hayride was a little disappointing this year, although Laura’s thigh was nearly cauterized by a too-close chainsaw, and there were definitely some laughable moments. But there was no simulated humping between me and any Jason-wannabes, so that was kind of a downer.
The walk-thru part was entertaining as always though. Getting harassed and snarled at when you’re blindly combing your way through fog- and strobe light-filled corn maze is $12 well spent.
Plus, we got to pet some snakes. And I’m not talking about when I encountered Michael Myers in line and tried to shove my hand down his pants.
But the scariest part was when we first arrived and staked out our spot in line.
“Just so you know, I’m holding this spot for like 10 more people,” a petite, older blond lady turned around and said.
Laura and I basically emitted sounds of ambivalence, because really — there was already a group of about 40 middle school kids in front of us, what the fuck is 10 more people at that point.
But instead of turning back around, she proceeded to talk to us for the next 30 minutes.
Here are things we learned:
- She lives in a ranch house in the middle of nowhere, but as soon as her divorce is over, she is moving the fuck back to the city
- Her son, who pays for her cell phone bill and why shouldn’t he — he’s a pharmacist, after all — has lived in a myriad of places in and around Pittsburgh since leaving home and I can name each and every place.
- She is a student at some college somewhere
- One of her classmates told her on the first day of class that he really likes blonds, then followed her to a bar afterward and put something in her drink, and she knows this because when she drank from it, she felt something go down her throat, so what did she do next? OH, SHE LEFT THE BAR AND DROVE HOME. But don’t worry, she’s a seasoned drunk so she knew what she was doing. (This is where I interject that she actually came off as being a semi-classy broad until THIS factoid gushed from her lips.)
- She is still in a class with her would-be rapist.
- One of the people she was waiting for was her soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law, Bill, and I SUSPECT THERE COULD BE AN AFFAIR going on there. But that’s just me being a speculating sleuth.
She got elbowed pretty hard in the head at one point by one of the middle school boys in front of her, who profusely apologized and swore that he didn’t see her, and I had to bite the knuckle of my thumb to keep from laughing. She was so angry that it happened, as evidenced by the scowl she flashed us.
Anyway, her posse eventually arrived, thank god. “That’s them!” she shouted to us, pointing to them and waving wildly. They slinked into line with her and I waited for her to introduce us, but she never did. I couldn’t even fucking believe it. Not even to Bill, who was wearing a blue flannel similar to Henry’s signature lumberjack uniform and sort of made me yearn for him which I mistakenly admitted to Laura, who threatened to out my mushy moment on Facebook and I wailed, “No don’t!” and suddenly had a deja vu moment of my “friends” bluffing about showing my 8th grade crush — Scott Dambaugh — the photo of him that they had blown up to an 8×10 for me at the pinnacle of my obsession.
Then, after talking about it for 30 minutes, Laura ran off to buy cotton candy, which came spun on a plastic stick that lit up and appeared to be a glowing pink nipple sticking out of the cotton’s crown. She kept jabbing it at me.
First I have to hear about this stranger almost getting dape-raped by a classmate half her age, and now this?
Our line friend never spoke to us again, which was fine by me, because her friends came equipt with flasks and crass language and I liked them way better than her anyway.
[FYI: I just wrote this at work while feeling like I’m on speed. Sorry if there are typos, but I need to go now and run repeatedly into a wall a few times. Then suck on some Fun Dip.]