Dec 202014


Hi. It’s Saturday night. Janna is here and we’re talking about Serial (I miss it already!), Chooch is puttering around in the wheelchair, we decorated our Christmas tree that we just bought today, and now Henry is making us grilled cheese. Plus I found another beer that I can tolerate but it’s a winter shandy (Jolly Traveler) and numerous people have said “Haha stupid girl that’s not real beer” but it’s as real as this bitch gets.

Also, I’m wearing my new Emarosa hoodie that I pre-ordered (#obsessed) and I painted cat heads for fun and then Chooch claimed it.


Overall, not the worst Saturday night.

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Dec 152014

On our way to Carlisle (our stopping point before continuing on to Philly the next morning), we ate at the Summit Diner in Somerset.

We has the same waitress that Chooch and I had back in October when we stopped there with Janna after screaming our faces off at Huston’s Haunted Hollow. On that night, she started out totally annoyed, not even trying to pretend like she wasnt pissed we came in 30 minutes before closing. She eventually warmed up to us though. This time, however, she was overly kind and kept trying to make suggestions when we were ordering. Something about her seemed artificial, and I decided that she reminded me of Alison from The Affair, that Showtime series that I love/hate to watch. I get really upset about it and then start thinking of buying a cage so that Henry can never leave the house and deal with all those pesky temptations to philander. I mentioned that the waitress reminded me of Alison and Henry just rolled his eyes.

Henry asked the waitress for napkins and she tried her best to say “They’re right there” without sounding like a snide bitch, pointing to the napkin dispenser on the table. Chooch & I have eaten here before so we knew that already and oh how we laughed. “You’re such a n00b!” I cried and Henry frowned angrily while ripping obvious napkins out of the obvious dispenser.

Chooch & I spent the entire weekend idiotically blurting out, “Remember when daddy asked for NAPKINS?!” Henry was barely speaking to us Saturday morning, especially after we arrived at Christian and Terri’s for breakfast (they are way too good to us) and Henry sat RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE NAPKIN HOLDER. Terri swears she didn’t purposely put it in front of him. .


Before we left the Summit Diner, Chooch–who was scarfing down his breakfast scramble like this was the first time we let him out in public since his picture was finally removed from the milk carton–began choking. And I mean CHOKING. You know when people say, “Oh so-and-so turned beet red because they were so embarrassed”? Well guess what, no they probably didn’t turn beet red. Maybe a slight rouge or coral. Because what I learned that night at the Summit Diner is that “beet red” is reserved for choking victims. I have never seen Chooch’s face that hue before, and it was teetering dangerously into the plum color family.

“HELP HIM!” I begged Henry, who was sitting next to him, but then Chooch slowly coughed up the mangled wad of cheesy bacon that had lodged itself in his throat. Relief washed over me and then I almost started crying. Henry was MAD.

“I TOLD you to chew!” he spat angrily and I was like “Our son nearly choked to death and you’re going to yell at him?”

Then our waitress came over and started wiping down the table behind Chooch. “You OK buddy? Yeah…” she said in an affirmative tone when he nodded yes.

And then it all came back to The Affair because in the first episode, that’s how the two cheaters meet: the guy is at a diner with his family and the girl is a waitress, and then the guy’s daughter starts choking on a marble, OMG.

So basically what this means is that Chooch choked and now Henry is going to cheat on me.

Ugh and now while I’m typing this, Mr. Mister’s “Broken Wings” is on; that’s that’ll going to be Henry’s song with his mistress. FML.

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Dec 122014

I had only been on the trolley for about 2 minutes when I felt someone standing next to me. Like, not just a “Hey, there’s nowhere to sit so I have to stand here by no choice” stand, but a purposeful “please look at me” stand. I could see in my periphery that this person was facing me, so I slowly looked over and saw this small Asian woman, perhaps in her 40s, looking at me expectantly. OK, not a guy with a machete. That’s good.

I thought at first she wanted my seat, even though the trolley was far from full. I thought this because this has happened to me three times, by the same old man. Three times he got on the trolley, stood all up in my PS (personal space for those who don’t know trolley lingo; just kidding, I just made this up right now because I didn’t feel like typing personal space so instead I typed it two times with about 100 extra words to go along with it, why do I do this to myself? Better yet—why do I do this to YOU?). So this old man who’s usurping my PS peers down at me with the creepiest intensity and taps his finger on the back of my seat. When I ask “Would you like to sit here?” he exclaims, “Oh thank you dear!” Like I came to this decision on my own and wasn’t pressured into it. But you know, I’m a sucker for old guys and even though there were empty seats, I stood and let his ass sink into the ghost of my PS.

Second time, same thing. Third time, I was already up and moving before he even made it to my seat. So fucking weird. Just pick a seat and sit!!

Anyway, I thought for sure this was happening again and I started to feel insecure, like, what is it about me that oozes the impression I’m warming this seat for you?

I was bracing myself to move, but then she started thrusting a $5 bill at me and was going on in broken English about the fare, and I was able to figure out that she needed dollar bills since the fare box thing only takes exact change. She opened her hand, showing me that she had the fifty cents, but she still needed $2.

(It’s here I will note that she passed up at least 6 people and the motion of the trolley practically jettisoned her straight toward me. For as many times as Christina called me standoffish, I sure must seem irresistibly approachable to strangers.)

As luck would have it, I actually moved my wallet from my regular purse to my work bag-thing, and as even more luck would have it, I actually had exactly two dollars in there.


I handed her the two dollars but kept thrusting the 5 at me until I realized she wasn’t going to take my money until I took her $5, like a lopsided trade.

“Oh no,” I said. “You don’t have to give me that. You can just have this, it’s totally fine.” I pushed the cash into her hand.

So she slowly took my money, took a step back with her hand on her chest and made a strangulated inhalation of shock.

And then, I’m not bullshitting you here, she started to CRY.

“Oh thank you! Thank you! It is my first time riding this!” she sobbed loudly.

I had an acute awareness of EVERYBODY ON THE TROLLEY watching this. A quick scan for a hidden camera confirmed that yes, pretty much everyone was watching. OMG plz stop, I silently willed her. Oh god, I hate being looked at!

She pulled herself together and went back up to the front of the trolley to pay and then took a seat across from me. She quietly analyzed a map of the trolley routes for the rest of the trip into town and I went back to playing Simpsons: Tapped Out, eventually forgetting my brush with humanity.

Twenty minutes later, right before the trolley pulled up to my stop, the lady got out of her seat, approached me and put her hands together in a prayer-pose. Then she started BOWING and said, “I appreciate you! I appreciate you!”

My god, lady! I smiled nervously and insisted that it was fine, but part of me wanted to get my phone video-ready and then say, “Oh no really, it’s fine. But hey, can you go ahead and say that one more time so my boyfriend will see that I actually helped someone? He is definitely going to call bullshit on this one.”

Of course, we got off at the same stop together so I walked slightly slower than usual so that we wouldn’t be awkwardly walking up two flights of steps with each other. She kept going straight as I crossed the street to The Law Firm and I MIGHT have smiled about the whole thing. Maybe just a quick flash of a smile.

Later that afternoon, I Have Good Karma For No Reason Amber came back from lunch with all these sauce samples and chips from Qdoba.

“So they have these new smothered burritos and I just asked if I could taste one of the sauces, and the guy me these samples of all three sauces PLUS a free bag of chips!” she practically BRAGGED. “For like, no reason!”

“Wow,” I deadpanned. “It’s almost as if you had given some poor Asian lady trolley fare today.”


Oh well. Who needs FREE SAUCE when I have these warm Good Samaritan feelings to dip my chips in. That didn’t make sense. That lady took more than $2 from me. I think she took some of the ice around my heart too and it’s got me all messed up. I want to go help another person now.

[ed.note I wrote this on my phone, half-asleep while Henry is driving us to Carlile, PA. So if it is even more typo-laden than usual, well, there’s my excuse. Philly tomorrow!!]

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Nov 242014

You guys. It’s my favorite time of the year, as far as inappropriate greeting cards go. Christmas!  Henry has been positively giddy over these majestic, sparkly card stock packs he found, perfect for our Christmas card line!




We’re now offering sets of 8 at a more affordable price of $15. The cards in this set are A2 size, which, if you’re deep in the card scene, you’ll know is slightly smaller than the standard size you can expect from non compos cards.

GO GET SOME! Add some fear and disgust to 8 mailboxes this holiday season!


I was sick on Saturday. I think I had a fever but Henry was all, “You do not have a fever.” Anyway, my point is that instead of resting, I used my fever-induced (yes, fever) delirium to design some new cards for the Holiday line. For some reason, this H.H. Holmes one made me laugh so hard but Henry was like, “It is not that funny.”

Henry doesn’t use contractions.



H.H. Holmes was a real nefarious fellow, and is considered to be America’s first serial killer. He would lure victims into his murder castle, which was full of mazes, stretching racks, and gas chambers. But damn if he doesn’t look dapper on the front of a Christmas card.

This card would be great for anesthesiologists, people who write fanfic about the  Chicago World Fair, or anyone you know who uses the term “Holmes” as a synonym for “friend.”

It comes with an envelope, which you can lace with fruit cake if you want. I won’t tell.

(Doesn’t he look super dapper flanked by Christmas trees?)

And then I was like, “Shit, son, Satan’s Little Helpers needs to happen” because who doesn’t love sitting at the computer, Photoshopping elf hats onto a parade of serial killers?


Ho ho ho, the gang’s all here for this merry holiday card, sure to delight even your most heathen-iest of friends. Etsy: where you can find a goddamn greeting card for just about everyone.

This card boasts the avuncular mug of Gary Ridgeway, David Berkowitz’s bashful smile, the cute & cuddly Jeffrey Dahmer, BTK’s friendly smirk, and Ted Bundy’s aw-shucks face. Perfect for the true crime aficionado, Satan worshiper, or that good little Christian you just can’t help effing with.

Comes with an envelope. Pentagram not included.


I can’t remember if I shared these ones on my blog yet, but here are two festive birthday and wedding cards that I made a few months ago. They just really brighten up the shop.



The perfect birthday card for your favorite true crime enthusiast. You’ve gotta know at least one! Go the extra mile and stick a ticket to Disneyland inside and say, “I’ll see you at Disneyland.” Get it? Because that’s what Ramirez said outside the courtroom when he was convicted….?

Whomp whomp.

ANYHOW. This card is lovingly printed on top notch cardstock. It’s like the Egyptian sheets of paper, you guys. And because I’m a great merchant-girl, I’ll even throw in an envelope of the correct size. The perfect canvas for pentagram doodles.

This next card started out as a custom order for a real cool dude, and I liked the end result that I decided to keep it in the shop. (Now I’m going to have to make a Charles Manson version! Maybe if I kill some people, I can find someone to marry me, too.)




Oh good, your friend got married. Before they start to feel too special, remind them even notorious serial killer John Wayne Gacy found not one, but TWO, women to marry his murdering ass.

This sweet card comes full of congratulatory sentiments and an envelope. We’re not penny-pinchers here at non compos cards. No need to fold your own card satchel out of toilet paper and duct tape.

Made from exceptional quality card stock, because appearances matter.


If you order anything this week, please use coupoRn code “marilynchambers” to get 20% off, just for reading this damn blog!

And as usual, I’d be remiss if I didn’t include my handy dandy disclaimer:

 DISCLAIMER: As always, I’m here to remind you that I do not endorse serial killers, murder, etc. I don’t think they’re “cool” and I don’t “worship” them. I’m just extremely interested in true crime, pop culture and designing tongue-in-cheek greeting cards.


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Nov 172014

Or: I’m not feeling like typing words today.

Brief summary, tho: the new Punk Goes Pop compilation just came out and while I’m not super into these comps, there are actually a few tracks I like a lot this time around. (And then you have the jumbled mess that Slaves made of Sweater Weather. What a great song for that merry band of misogynists to shit all over. That’s awful even by Kidz Bop standards.)

(I wish Dance Gavin Dance had covered Sweater Weather instead. With Tilian.)

The standout track for me is State Champs’ cover of Zedd’s “Stay the Night.” I love the original so much (full disclosure: I can’t listen to that song without crying, every.damn.time) and State Champs added their own sound to it while STILL making me get choked up at the gasoline part.

“Stay the Night” can stay on my radio.

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Nov 062014

It’s time to unload all of the deceased, Glennified celebs that I have been hoarding on my phone. You will note that there is no Robin Williams Glenn yet. I want to make a collection of Robin Williams Glenns, like a Brady Bunch-esque grid of them, but I just haven’t had the time yet.


I think I posted this one already, but I recently found out that Glenn used to be a beekeeper and now is not a beekeeper.



When I was a kid, I remember finding out that Bob Hoskins was supposedly (“supposedly”) British and I disputed this furiously. “I saw him in Who Framed Roger Rabbit and he is definitely from America because he talked American!” I MEAN, REALLY.



My god, I was so giddy when I made this one.



This one was suggested by my friend Kristy when we were at the Zombie Luau and it was apparently the nth anniversary of Elvis’s death. I know this because Kristy said to me, “Hey, it is the nth anniversary or Elvis’s death.” So, here is his RIP Glenn. You’re welcome, Mr. The King.

It makes me really happy when people who don’t work here/know Glenn suggest an RIP Glenn. I told him that this happens sometimes and he was like, “OK.”


Out of all the Glenns I have made over the years, this one probably is the closest match to his likeness.



This one hurt. Jan Hooks’ had a small role in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, but it was huge enough to make a lasting impression on me (and millions of others!). I am not big on referencing movies, but her scene is such a metaphor for my life, always looking for something that doesn’t exist, finding myself asking for something that gets me laughed at. I have written about countless “Alamo Basement” moments on this blog.

One of my fondest Alamo Basement moments was a literal one. It was the summer of 1992, when we were hosting a French foreign exchange student so suddenly my family was doing textbook family stuff, like “going on outings together.” One of those outings was to Laurel Caverns, about an hour away, where we took French Kid on a tour so he could take home a souvenir of stalagmite with stalactite confusion, like the rest of us dumbass Americans. So we’re on this tour, deep inside a fucking dripping cavern, and my dad raises his hand and asks, in a perfect deadpan, “When do we get to see the basement?” My dad and I barely got along back then, but goddamn did I laugh.

Jan Hooks will always represent something happy from my childhood. And now, she is a Glenn.


I’m pissed about this one. The gown looks like stupid Alaska water and a stupid Alaska mountain. Ugh, Alaska, you constantly mock me!!

I KNEW I should have made the dress red.


After I made the Wayne Static Glenn, Glenn shrugged. “I don’t know who that is.”

Mean Amber turned around and said, “Yeah, either do I.”

So then I felt confused. Was I astral projecting again? Was Wayne Static someone who only exists in the astral projection town I visit on my fantastic subconscious trips and now my two worlds are colliding and everyone on this side is going to think I’m nuts, bringing back memories of characters who don’t exist here on this side?

But then Nate walked by and said, “Yes I am familiar with Static X” so I was relieved until it occurred to me that Nate and I are astral projecting together somehow, to a town on the other side that never advanced past pre-millennium hard rock.
FUNNY STORY: Glenn’s wife came to visit with their new baby a few weeks ago and Glenn took her to the other side of his desk, where two poster boards of Glenns hang on a wall.

“So, I never told you about this before,” he started slowly. “Because it’s kind of hard to explain, but…here is this thing.” And then he Vanna White’d an arm along the poster boards and maybe it was just the angle but I could swear I caught a glimmer of PRIDE on Glenn’s face.

There was a tense moment of silence while his wife took it all in. I was prepared to throw Amber under the bus.


But then Glenn’s wife started cracking up and pointing out her favorites. YES!

Later that day, Amber and I were reminiscing about all the Glenns we’ve defaced over the years.

“You know, when you first started this, I thought, ‘Yeah, this is going to get old.’ But no. No, it’s still funny!”

And then we laughed for awhile until Amber realized she had gone more than 5 minutes without being mean.

The end.

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Oct 292014


I HATE EVERYTHING!!! First, We walked to The Hollywood Theater to watch Halloween. There was a Michael Myers statue that moves but doesn’t have the knife. Sadly! We got Popcorn and M&M’S. Also we got Raffle Tickets 2 raffle Tickets. Next, We were watching the movie. These kids said to Tommy a little boy that the Boogy Man was going to come after him. Tommy kept saying he saw the Boogy Man but it was Michael Myers. The Sheriff came in this house that the babysitter that baby sitted Tommy came in because Michael was in there and at the end of the movie The Sheriff shot Michael in the head about 16 time and Michael fell off of the balcony. He looked down and Michael was gone. Last, The movie ended and it was time for Raffle the last prize was a Michael Myers mask and we were 716770 and the winner was 2 Goth people with the number 716771 I freaked the eff out! I almost cried I said to mommy for the Goth people to BURN IN HELL!!! I knew they were Goth because they had black hair,the makeup Goth people wear, and they were black spiked shoes. Finally, We walked out and I forgot my jacket and a bunch of people came out and Brad and his Fiancee Casey I told them everything I was so mad about! I calmed down after passing the Fragile Stuffs store because there was a FLUFFY NICE KITTY CAT THAT WAS BLACK AND FREAKING WHITE!!! We were walking home and we ran half the way and on the other side of the street there was the scary guy that was like “Have you ever tried WEED? I HAS IT WAS SO GOOD ALSO HAVE YOU EVER HAD WHISKEY? That’s good to! I just got high and drunk yesterday!” (That’s not really what he said he was singing Ring Around The Rosy like a Drunk and high idiotic moron. We thought Henry was going to be in his underwear playing Xbox1 but he wasn’t. We got home and Henry was like HOLD ON! Because we were banging on the door! I told him everything and he was like You would of won if I was there. JK I never win anything! We would of won actually! Because we would of had 3 tickets and the one would be 716771 and we would of won! Laugh Out Loud!!! Wow that was a horrible and dreadful day.

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Oct 292014



Today’s National Cat Day! Kind of bittersweet for me since in the last three years, our cat family has dwindled from 4 to 1.  Marcy was my first cat, and she’s still here. Even at the ripe old age of 17, she still has so much personality and venom in her veins. I asked her to pick out some of her favorite pictures and her response was to carve the letters D-I-E into my face with her eyes alone, so I picked my own favorites.


Some facts about Marcy:

  • I got her in the spring of 1998 from a co-worker at Olan Mills. I volunteered to take her in, even though I was raised by a family who were 100% against cats and were Team Dog4l. I had no idea what I was doing but she quickly took over and sometimes it feels like she was the one taking care of me, in her own sadistic way.
  • She loves Cool Ranch Doritos.
  • She hates everyone but Henry.
  • She held Janna and me hostage on  the couch one time and it was hilarious and horrifying all at once.
  • She hates being pointed at.
  • She bullied our other three cats every chance she got, even though two of them were her own children.
  • She’s named after the band Marcy Playground. (Come on, it was 1998! John Wozniak was a babe!)


She amazingly lets him get away with so much. If I did this, she’d turn me into a cleft palate commercial.

The Sue Sylvester of cats.


Chooch didn’t have the heart to move her, so he was using a mound of stuffed animals as a pillow until I saw this and hooked him up with another pillow.


She’s always been such a huge part of our family. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my time with her expires. :(

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Oct 252014


We got Chooch’s school pictures back and I’m pleasantly surprised to report that he kept his cat bowtie on. (Actually, he took it off as soon as he got to school and then put it back on right before pictures were taken.)


Then a week later, Henry finally took him to get his hair cut, so now he looks like a completely different kid. (I don’t know why he’s mean-mugging in this photo; he was so happy to be wearing his new cat Vans!)


Henry bought Chooch the latest Sia album today (he sings “Chandelier” with such unabashed moxie that it actually brings tears to my eyes, WTF is happening to me) and you would have thought it was a puppy the way Chooch reacted. Then he immediately pulled out the liner notes and started reading the lyrics. One of the many reasons physical copies of albums will always trump digital.

And now I will leave you with this interesting quote that happened during pre-haunted house dinner at King’s tonight:

I asked Chooch what he would do if he woke up in an orphanage. He said, after killing the “orphanager,” he would “Annie his way home.” I wonder if that’s similar to last week when he accused Henry of “Kevin Bacon’ing” his way around.

(He’s been obsessed with Kevin Bacon ever since he watched Footloose last year.)

(I’m so behind on blogging that I pathetically wrote this in the car in between haunted houses.)

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Oct 242014


Fright Farm was scary 10/10. First, It took 1 HR to get there but I survived. When we got there the line was like 25 minutes long. There was a dj on a stage and then Taylor Swifts Shake it Off came on and i started twerking. And then 5 minutes for the Hayride to start. We have to sit at the edge of the Hayride it was like we would fall off. Next, after 45 or something minutes after the Hayride we went in the haunted house. It was scary 10/10. But Janna almost had a seizure. But she actually didn’t. Mommy was scared when I warned her about there was someone going to pop out. Then we went on the slide. I loved it. Janna almost fell on the steps so I warned her. She tripped on the steps one time. Last year, Erin and GOD FORBID JANNA said it took them forever to get through the maze. But when I was with them I said follow me but I purposely ran into a clown and he trapped me and Mommy in a corner and I ran. But the clown said to mommy Do you want to play death? She said No but the clown chased her in the maze. GODDFORBID JANNA tried to save her but the clown pushed her out of the way. She had a seizure. I said follow me again and they did and I lead to victory. Finally, We went to the last part. We got blindfolded and had to follow a rope. But sometimes it got higher and I couldn’t reach it so mommy said she had it and then It got lower and I could touch it again. I was scared like so bad I could cry and my eyes were closed and I almost fell asleep. We kept touching people and they said we were in line. But Erin’s blindfold fell off and they pulled it back up. We finally got out of terrifying death creepy maze like idiotic mean place. Then I had Hot Coco because it was freezing like a Winter Wonderland. Walking In A Winter Wonderland. When we were leaving Chandelier came on and that was my favorite part. In conclusion, That’s how I felt at Riches Fright Farm.


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Oct 232014


Last night, Janna and I took Chooch to Rich’s Farm. This post is not really about that. (Chooch claims he will be guest-blogging about this and Castle Blood tonight; WE’LL SEE.)

This post is actually about how he and Janna could have easily filled in as Dorothy and Rose for Kristy’s Golden Ghouls group costume at Zombiefest last week.

Before we left Fright Farm, Janna decided to be nice and buy Chooch some hot chocolate. On the way back to the car, he spilled some of it.

“Did you spill your hot chocolate?” Janna asked, noting that he had stopped and was looking at his pants.

“No, I pissed myself, Janna,” Chooch said dryly. “YES, I spilled my hot chocolate!”

I mean, that haunted house was fucking awesome, but this might have been the highlight for me.

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Oct 202014

Livermore is a supposedly haunted cemetery in Blairsville, PA. There are so many conflicting stories on the Internet (HARD TO IMAGINE – it’s outrageous how many people think that this is the cemetery from Night of the Living Dead) but I’ll just summarize by telling you that there was a flood at some point and people died. Or they didn’t. You don’t come here for history lessons.


I know you just come here to do shots every time I squirt out a typo.


I thought it would be fun to stop for a quick visit since we were about to drive past it yesterday on our way back from Knoebel’s; it’s been at least 10 years since we were there last. I could tell Henry wasn’t exactly down with the slight detour, but he did it anyway because I own him.

It’s not really all that scary there during the day, because the end of Livermore Rd spills out into a makeshift parking area at the entrance of a bike trail, which is right near the cemetery entrance. In other words, our parked car was wishing running distance in case something wicked happened back there.


First we walked along the old train bridge because we like to live dangerously. BUT NOT TOO DANGEROUSLY! I kept yelling at Chooch for being too close to the edge, I didn’t trust that FLIMSY FENCE.


What a beautiful spot for a family portrait, I thought to myself and then made my puppets jump. This one is definitely a Christmas card contender.


I got suddenly smart and had us face the other way. I’m a good piktchur-taker.



Chooch and I were like WHY ARE THESE KEYS HANGING HERE and then Henry had to go and spoil all of our fantasies by going into a long, dull speech about how someone probably found them and hung them there in case the key-owners came back looking for them and we were like “STFU you’re stupid and boring.”

I’m actually surprised Henry didn’t take them for his gratuitous key collection that he keeps dangling in a clump from his belt like he’s ready to audition for the role of Schneider on a 2014 revamp of “One Day At a Time.”

After about ten minutes of being too close to the river, I quickly tired of all this supposed beautiful scenery and we all walked back toward the car, which was parked near the path that leads to the cemetery.




This gate literally only keeps out truck-sized people.



Henry REALLY didn’t want to do this.



Pretty sure this was written in crayon. Also surprising that “cemetery” is spelled correctly.



Henry wouldn’t come into the cemetery with us, opting instead to loaf (haha, loaf) near the handmade Livermore sign, hands in-pocket, head nervously whipping over his shoulder. He claims he was more worried about townies than ghosts. Oh ok.

As soon as Chooch and I crossed the threshold into the graveyard, I experienced a pretty strong episode of déjà vu and it occurred to me that I was wrong: we have definitely been there before with Chooch. He must have been two and I remember that it was about to storm.




Earlier, I asked Chooch if he had anything to add and he mumbled from the couch, “No. Yeah! Tell them* about the tombstone with my name!”

“I already did,” I said.

“Oh. Then…no,” he mumbled and fell back into his stupid video game.

*(I wonder who he thinks comprises “them.” Cats, probably. My blog is the one all the cats read.)

I thought the trees were making weird noises but Chooch said they sounded like normal tree-speak to him, so maybe I was just being paranoid. But it really sounded like the one tree was trying to spoil the end of The Crying Game.

I don’t know why I thought that but it’s late and I’m writing this in bed with the lights off like I’m telling the Internet a ghost story where the ghosts forget to show up. RSVPs don’t mean shit anymore.
We rejoined Henry after awhile and headed back to the car.

“Look,” Henry quietly said. “A squirrel.”

“WHERE?!” I cried as if this was Jurassic Park and Henry hadn’t just pointed out something that we see 61818293 times a day in our backyard.

Meanwhile, Chooch was walking with such Frankenstein-esque force upon the leaves that it sounded like vertebrae were crunching and cracking beneath his feet. “WHAT? WHO?! WHERE?!” he screamed extra loud to ensure Henry, the squirrel, the squirrels cousins in Pittsburgh, and all of the restless Livermore souls could hear over the sound of his leaf-murdering.

Henry sighed. “Remind me never to take you two idiots on a stakeout.”

And I will now end this with the original post I wrote on LiveJournal after Henry and I first visited this place in October of 2004.


Henry and I decided to try and scope out the Livermore Cemetery yesterday, during daylight. Livermore was once a town about an hour from Pittsburgh, that was flooded in the 1800’s. So of course it’s haunted there. The road that leads to where the town once sat is scary in itself; surrounded by woods with an occasional farm house here and there. The road eventually leads to a gate and you have to walk the rest of the way.

I would have been less frightened if the sun was shining, but it was miserably overcast. We walked along a trail for thirty minutes or so, over two old railroad bridges, with water on either side of us. Supposedly, if the water level is low enough, you can see the foundations of the town. I couldn’t see jack shit, plus I was cranky because the quest to find the cemetery seemed hopeless. Also, I hadn’t fed my fat face in like, two hours! I demanded that we turn around and go back to the car immediately before I died of malnourishment. Even walking proved to be a struggle for me, and I kept falling. My legs just kept giving out on me because I was so hungry. Henry, never picking up on the emergency of these situations, laughed at me and kept walking. Then I thought I saw a skull! But it was only a soccer ball.

As we crossed over the last bridge, Henry happened to look up to the left, and he shouted, “THERE! OVER YONDER!” And there it was, the Livermore Cemetery. A few lone tombstones could be seen on the edge of the hill, between the trees. Maybe it was just the sight of the cemetery itself that heightened my senses, but if I believed in God, I would swear to him right now that the atmosphere around us changed. The wind kicked up and there was a noticeable chill in the air. This is the part that elicited the trademarked Skeptical Father look from Henry: something grabbed my leg. Would I lie to you guys? It’s true, I tried to lift my right leg to continue walking, and something held the back of my jeans onto the ground for around three seconds. When I turned around to look, there was positively nothing that my jeans could have stuck to, and there was nothing on the bottom of my shoes.

From this point on, all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears, and I grabbed Henry’s arm and power-walked him back toward the car, whipping my head over my shoulders every other second. I even made myself dizzy. I haven’t been this lethally afraid since we stayed overnight at the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast last year.

My hair was slapping me in the face from the heavy wind. I reached up to swipe a strand of hair from my mouth, causing Henry to go ballistic on me.

Henry: “What did you just do!?”
Me: “Uh, I wiped the hair away from my mouth.”
Henry: “Oh, I thought you made the sign of the cross. I was going to say, if you’re crossing yourself and you don’t even believe in god, we have problems.”

There was a trail to the left of where we parked the car, and it was certain that that was the way into the cemetery. Henry pleaded with me to walk up with him, stating that “nothing was going to happen.” Now, I’ve seen enough movies in my twenty five years for this claim to make me lose control. “DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT! YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW YOU STUPID ASSHOLE! DON’T YOU KNOW THEY WAIT AROUND FOR SOMEONE TO SAY THAT!? GET IN THE CAR!!” I adopted my ‘hissing through clenched teeth’ way of speaking for this moment; I felt it was the most fitting in my cache of tones.

And so we left. We ate at a restaurant that hosted the weirdest assortment of humanity I’ve ever witnessed. It was great fun, and it made me feel a lot better about myself. I especially felt better after I inhaled a soggy grilled cheese and fries and slurped my way through two cups of coffee. They had Presidential sundaes: Bushberry and Kerryberry (and strawberry for those who are undecided). I thought it would be so cute if Henry and I ordered our respective picks, but he didn’t want to play along. We left after I was becoming dangerously too engrossed in analyzing the differences between the two sundaes. (The Bushberry variety cost more!)

Something about the Valley Dairy restaurant made my courage surge, so I slammed my fist on the dashboard and demanded that we go back to Livermore straight away.

When we got out of the car after returning, we noticed that someone had dumped a garbage bag off the side of the path. Henry, being the curious garbage picker that he is, decided that he needed to have a closer inspection of the contents. Laying on the top was a piece of mail. Who litters a giant bag of garbage and leaves an envelope with their name and address on top? Ironically, the zip code on it was the same as ours. We thought that was rather coincidental considering we were nowhere near home. AN OMEN, perhaps. Livermore is partial to collecting souls from the 15226 area?

After a minute of silent deliberation, I finally heeded and followed Henry up the path. It was blocked off after a few feet, but this was not to deter Henry. He was eager to show off his trespassing prowess.

I’m getting antsy with this, and it also makes me feel kind of creeped out as I rehash it, so I’ll speed it up.

We came across the entrance to the cemetery

and crossed over the threshold. I thought for sure the sky was going to start hailing fireballs at this point, but everything was actually very quiet. From this point on, the time we spent in the midst of crumbling tomb stones was very leisurely and calm. I even started to zone about ice cream sandwiches, so it really couldn’t have been all that bad there, right?

Naturally, we couldn’t leave until we argued over the camera settings, which is customary for us. It certainly lightened the mood a bit. Until, as we began to walk back to the entrance, Henry pointed out that while it was windy everywhere else, it was absolutely still in the cemetery. Shut up, right? His observation made my heart threaten cardiac arrest for the second time in two hours, and I said, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that it’s haunted, right?” Henry shrugged and kept walking. Shrugging is not a good enough answer for me and I began to tug on his arm, begging him to tell me why it wasn’t windy. The phenomenon didn’t seem to be plaguing him as it was me, and he mumbled some half assed Discovery Channel explanation. I paused, letting it sink in, and said, “No. It’s because it’s haunted. OH MY GOD IT’S HAUNTED!! OH MY GOD THERE’S NO WIND!!! EVERYTHING IS DEAD IN HERE AND WE’RE GOING TO DIE TOO!!!!”

And then we got in the car and left. The end.

And the pièce de résistance:

Ha ha.

I mean, what? You don’t think that’s real?

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Oct 062014


Chooch bought some shitty Leaning Tower of Pisa puzzle at Goodwill. Anyone with a cat knows how impossible puzzle-doing is. Once, way back when, I was so excited to finally put in the last of a 5,000 piece puzzle, only to have asshole Marcy PUSH THE WHOLE THING OFF THE COFFEE TABLE.

She might be 15 years older now, but she’s still a fucking puzzle menace. Chooch found this out first hand Friday night.

Me: She’s just trying to help you!


Marcy: I fucking hate puzzles.

Chooch was so angry that he gave her the finger on his way to bed and I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to tell him not to do that.


Saturday morning, Chooch and I were watching Youtube videos of The Front Bottoms when I decided to see if there were any from Riot Fest. I found one and immediately said, “WE MIGHT BE IN THIS ONE, CHOOCH” because I could tell right away that it was being filmed by some doucher in the VIP area and we were standing right by the fence that separated Us from Them. AND WE WERE! Well, Henry was. I was standing to Henry’s left so I’m blocked by that dude in the white shirt and hat. (Which is funny, because I was originally standing on the other side of Henry but then hated the people in front of me for god knows what reason, I rarely even need one anymore, so I moved over.)

Anyway, this is basically what went down




Henry: *frown*


HENRY: It’s not that funny.

Here’s the video if you want to laugh about it!!!


Later, I went to my pal Lisa’s house and tried to teach her daughter Gigi how to say HASHTAG SELFIE and then I told Lisa the Front Bottoms video story and she shook her head and said, “You’re so weird. Seriously. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like in your head” and maybe she said other things but I was too busy laughing to the point of tears all over again. OMG what a hilarious Saturday.


Later still, Chooch and I went to Huston’s Haunted Hollow in Somerset with Janna, which meant Janna had to spend 3+ hours in the car with us. This picture was taken when she abandoned us to go inside a gas station, which was really pretty irresponsible of her because who knows what could have happened to us. We’re susceptible to kidnapping.

On the way there, Chooch started talking about Pi and then very seriously asked us, “Well then, what’s Pi + Cake?” Speaking of cake, there was amazing post-haunt cake at a diner in Somerset, but I’ll come back to that later in the week. Because you know how I love to make something small into A Thing.



On Sunday, I let Henry wear my Emarosa “Versus” beanie and I love Henry in beanies in general, but the fact that he was wearing an Emarosa made me have a crush on him, so I kept squeezing his forearm while he was driving because I’m eerily attracted to his forearms (I’m niche, what can I say) and he kept frowning at me. And then I took this picture even though he was like, “Please don’t take my picture, I’m so fucking sick of pictures.”



Chris and Monica had a pickle party! They had other foods too, and tons of homemade wine, and it was just a really great way to spend a Sunday afternoon, even though Monica kept making happy exclamations over the STEELERS game. I actually looked at the TV for a few minutes and allowed her to tell me things. It was OK. I’m still alive.

Chooch was doing his weird baby-talk thing again, and I think it might be a social tic for real, which makes me sad because he never used to seem socially anxious before. Although, I never was before either. That was the only low point to a weekend full of hangouts and haunted houses.

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Sep 282014
  • If you have never been to Chicago, make sure you research the area your staying in. So when you come back the first night someones not jacked up against a police car outside your hotel room window.


  • Make sure you take the proper clothing, ie: Boots, jacket so you don’t have to run out and buy them in a hurry.
  • Find a way to and from the festival that doesn’t put your life in danger by seedy so called “Uber” drivers, only to find out on the last day you could have drove and parked 100 yards from where you needed to go.
  • Learn to dodge and weave between people with minimal damage to you and others.
  • Bring lots of cash, for the girlfriend that wants everything.
  • Bring an appetite, the food is awesome.
  • Do not be so quick to say “yes we can go” before you actually look in to what riot fest is.

BANDS I DISLIKED (hate is a pretty strong word)

Pianos Become the Teeth – not my style. Like I have a style.
La Dispute – they go along with the other one.

I didn’t dislike as much as Erin thought I did. Maybe it’s just more that I didn’t want to be there.

Seeing the Cure.

Nothing. She wouldn’t understand.

I don’t know yet.

I don’t have any.


Cheap Trick.

To summarize, all and all it wasn’t a bad three days, the rain, mud and cold didn’t help me like Riot fest. Though knowing that Erin was the happiest shes been in awhile was well worth it. Will i do it again, too soon to say. I’m sure by January or whenever presale starts ill start getting hounded.

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