October 30, 2010
Believe it or not, I am easily frightened. Except by Zombies. I could really beat the heck out of some Zombies. But spiders? Frightening. John Denver? Terrifying. Stirrup pants? Shudder. The thought of Paris Hilton ever procreating? Eeek! When we lived in Chicago I used to brag to Steve about how totally ready I was to kick ass at any point in time. Muggers beware. Then one night when I took the elevator to the basement laundry room of our building and made the trek through the dark boiler/storage room, where Steve had taken the stairs down and hidden so that he could come up behind me and put his hand over my mouth, the truth finally came out. I am a freakin’ pussy. If you had asked me before then, what I would do in that kind of situation, I would have showed you some karate moves and deadly street fighting skillz. But when it actually happened, I went limp, fell to the floor and cried a little. It was completely pathetic you guys.
And just the other morning, after Steve left for work, I looked across the still dark bedroom in my sleepy haze and was 99.9% positive I saw a transvestite murderer in my closet. I assumed they had been there all night just trying on my clothes and plotting my demise. I was brave, though. I went in to investigate and basically discovered that I have allergy eyes and am pretty much mentally insane. Then I went back to bed. But the fact that I went in there to check it out in the first place is major progress for me. It sure beats lying on the floor in the fetal position in a puddle of your own tears.
There’s alot of freaky ass shit in this world to be scared of. So in honor of Halloween, I have decided to post a few odd things that scare the crap out of me.
#1) Dismembered Dolls. Recently, my friend Anne and I visited an “art reuse” store. This freak show had a major overflow of doll parts, which made us feel like we had wandered into that Texas Chainsaw Massacre house, if Leatherface had been into dolls instead of humans. Which would have still been creepy, although much less bloody and social unacceptable. So my question is, who is buying these things? I guess some heroiny “artist” who wants to make a super disturbing art project involving old lady heads and eyeless babies. Sounds incredibly stupid to me, but what’s even scarier is that I am 100% positive that there exists, somewhere out there, more than a few totally rich douchebags who would buy it.
#2) Naked Santas and Imprisoned Dolls. The good part? These dolls had not been dismembered. Yet. Well, except for Santa. That dude’s penis was totally missing. As were his belly button and his nipples. And his velvet suit. Which is how I know that the other stuff was missing. I didn’t strip him myself you guys. He was already like that. I swear. Now, up until this point I had lived almost 39 years without ever seeing Santa nude. And I was doing just fine. I mean, I never really spent much time thinking about Santa’s private parts. A little, but not much. But never in a hundred years did I think he had none. But I guess that explains why he adopted all those elves instead of just knocking up Mrs. Claus. I guess you can’t knock someone up without a penis. And I never woulda thought that he was the kinda guy to just stand around naked in public. But he IS freakin’ old. And he probably has alzheimers or something. Which is really sad, but no less scary. And I’m a really caring person and everything, but he’d better get his shit together before December, because I have a big ass list this year. And then there’s the prison stuffed with naked, dirty dolls. Highly disturbing. Especially since the ones in front look like they’re totally getting crushed like I did that one time in college when I was in the front of the mosh pit at a Lemonheads concert. But I doubt that anyone is using that opportunity to feel their boobs. Not that that happened to me or anything. Anyway, you want to know the most upsetting part of the doll prison? Look in the middle….
….It’s Mrs. Beasley from A Family Affair, AKA one of my favorite shows when I was a kid. Buffy loved her so much, you guys. And Mr. French was always making sure things were taken care of at the Davis house. I would have never thought that he would have let this happen. I blame Cissy. She was a teenager. She pretended to be such a goody-goody but I betcha she had a dark side. She probably sold Mrs. Beasley for drug money and this is where she ended up. In doll prison. Obviously a total meth head weirdo who is into some pretty kinky girl on girl stuff. But from what I’ve learned from Cinemax After Dark, prison will totally do that to you.
#3) Dental Work. As in I HAVE TO GET A FREAKIN’ ROOT CANAL! Because I have alot of Zombie fighting dreams, I clench my teeth so hard while I sleep that I cracked a molar, like, all the way down to my gums. ANd one thing led to another, and now…root canal. Anyway, since I even freak out a little bit when I have to have my teeth cleaned, I can’t even begin to fathom the horror of a root canal. In 1991 I survived having all 4 wisdom teeth out at once, but I think that the only reason I made it out of that alive was because I was 19 years old and really not worried about anything. And I was also probably drunk and/or high. But now I am a big, giant baby when it comes to anything dental-related. Maybe in a past life I had some major gold teeth and was mouth mugged by pirates one night on my way home from the neighborhood pub or something, because I have a serious distrust of anyone poking around in my mouth.
Since I can’t ever do anything the easy way, my roots are totally bent at a 90 degree angle & I have to find a specialist who’s willing to tackle this situation. So I posted a want ad on my neighborhood website to try and find a referral, and I mentioned that I want a surgeon who is willing to put me under, because I want to have zero awareness of what is happening to me. When I told Steve this, he said that if I’m knocked out I run the risk of getting molested. But that’s totally a risk I’m willing to take. Plus, I told him that I’d probably just wear a unitard because there’s nothing like a unitard to thwart unwanted dental surgery molestations. They might be thinking of molesting me, but once they take a peek under my clothing and see that I’m rockin’ a unitard, they’ll be all like “Crap! A unitard! Those things are so hard to get into! We just got thwarted, yo!” But I got a few referrals from my post, and one woman told me her husband is an Endodontist (which is what they call the scary people who do this) and that he could put me under and that he wouldn’t molest me. But then when we started emailing back and forth a bit, she told me that they were new to the area and came from out of state. So, obviously I ask her why they left their state. Did they perhaps move due to her husband running from the dental police for molesting a patient? Although she says this isn’t the case, I’m not sure I totally believe her. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna do it. I have faith in the unitard. Plus, in all actuality, as long as I’m knocked out I’m cool with whatever happens. As long as nobody puts it on the internet.
|This is what my cat and I would look like if we ever became Zombies. Which we totally wouldn’t because we are both super badass Zombie fighters. But I’d still much rather have this happen than to have a root canal.
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