The First Time He Died

 I’ll always look back fondly on the day we buried Evan alive.
 It was one of Emily’s birthday parties, and we were all upstairs playing “Funeral”. In Funeral, one person is the tombstone, who sits at the end of the grave and recites the date of birth, date of death, cause of death, and epitaph. The priest is all like, "They shall be greatly missed. Maybe. Probably not. Who is this, again?" The organist plays dramatic music. The widow either weeps loudly, or is like, "Yayyyy, he died! :D LIFE INSURANCE MONEEYYY!" The mourners weep. The more the widow pays them, the louder they weep. The corpse is usually just dead, but will occasionally sit up and ask what's going on. Somebody then clubs them over the head so the funeral can continue.
All of us little girls took turns playing all of the parts.
But eventually, we ran out of corpses.

 Evan came innocently upstairs, presumably to inform us that it was time for cake. I think he was even kind of smiling. He was probably trying to convey that he came in peace, with good tidings of cake and joy to all people.
But he never got to deliver his message.

 We needed corpses, and as the Big Brother, he was the ideal next victim.
We all grabbed onto him and shoved him into his grave (which was Emily’s bed. Also, this only worked because he didn’t resist). We declared him dead, and who ever was the tombstone that time declared that he had died from getting hit by an ice cream truck (I think).

 Evan wasn’t a very good corpse. He kept popping out of his grave, proclaiming he would agree to be dead only if he got a burger and fries. We promised him there would be a burger and fries waiting for him on the other side, and he died with a pleasant smile on his face. We buried him under the covers. I was the mourner. Possibly his widow, but I’m pretty sure I was just the paid mourner (I don't think I was paid much. I don't remember weeping very dramatically).
As we were finishing up his funeral, the adults downstairs realized that Evan’s message must have been interrupted, and called us down for cake. Of course, we gleefully abandoned our victim for sugar.

 I assume he dug himself up and come downstairs to receive cake, but I'm not really sure. He may have been up there munching on heavenly burgers and fries for all I know.
We were really messed up little kids.

Even better, this party was a sleepover, and we tried to bury the poor guy AGAIN the next morning.
He didn't let us.
Also I think he might've actually died at some point, because he doesn't remember any of this.

(This post makes me think of This Unskippable . There is most definitely language and violence in this cutscene. You have been forewarned.)

Polite as a Princess (Or perhaps not)

(I apologize in advance for crappy typing. I have had very little sleep, and my ''a'' key is being eeeeeeviiiil.)

As a dance teacher, most of my work is done during the school year, and I spend all summer being a lazyass and despite taking medication, sleep at really odd hours (Because if you do nothing all day, sleep really is not required).

But to save dance teachers from doing absolutely nothing all summer, we go and have dance camp (And conventions, but that'll be a whoooole 'nother blog post). Dance camps have various themes, stuff like Under the Sea, maybe a ballet like Coppelia, Tinkerbell, the Princess and the Frog, or heck, maybe even something weird like cows (You never know. People are weird).

This is how some ballet friends and I ended up spending a few days as Disney Princesses. I was Ariel, because I am currently the only redhead at the studio who is not five years old (Plus, the other redhead just silently stares at you like "O.O").

Children are awed by Disney princesses. If you look remotely like a Disney princess, they will totally believe you are legit.

Of course, since I had been teaching them all week as Miss Mary, convincing them that I was really Ariel was kind of a stretch. The three year olds were no trouble at all. They were all like, "Whoooaah, our teacher is really Ariel! 8O"

The fours and fives are a bit more skeptical. They tend to be more like, "Pffft, you're faking. We can totally see your feet under your tail."
To which I'm all, "Didn't you see the end of the movie? I had legs. And in the second movie, I was a mermaid again.''
Roughly half were then convinced. But the other half was still skeptical.
I then told them I have a handsome prince, who carries me around stores when I have my tail, so I can shop.
The children decided that if I have a handsome prince, I must be legit, and mostly called me Ariel for the remainder of camp.

>:D

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away....
On the last day of camp, all the princesses get together, and have lunch. This year they decided to pay a visit to the local Chick Fil A, in costume (It was difficult to convince Cinderella to go along with it, but in the end she gave in. I think she secretly liked it).
Cinderella, Ariel, and Jasmine all piled into Belle's royal carriage (Or two-door car), turned on their favorite princess music. Nicki Minaj (Whom Ariel hadn't actually heard, as she mostly listens to metal and punk rock and good stuff like that), Lil' Wayne (Who seemed to be talking about random objects and swearing), and The Lonely Island (.....Yeaahhh. XD).

Princesses like to turn their music up really loud. They also sometimes like to roll down their windows and wave their hands out of them to call attention to themselves.

The Chick Fil A was freaking crowded.
The princesses got stared at a lot. Belle and Ariel liked this.
Cinderella and Jasmine are kind of chickens, so the princesses decided to get their food to go (Also, there was a little girl from the camp they just taught who was waving ecstatically).
Because Belle is a speed demon, the princesses arrived back at the studio in three seconds flat.
They had a picnic in the dance studio, and watched a wide variety of Youtube videos, ranging from "Malk" to "I Just Had Sex".

And they lived sexily ever after.

The last camp of the day went well. Nothing terrible happened, and nobody died. After camp, my sister came and took pictures.

So, sleep deprivation aside, it was a good week. I like working with the kids, I get paid, I get free lunch, and cupcakes.

I didn't even have to clean up the studio much, because The Boss had her granddaughter with her, and they just wanted to go home (And I'm certainly not sticking around if I don't have to. Though I'll help if she plans a work day, of course).

Now if you'll excuse me, Imma go sleep for a week.

They Just Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Today, I visited a local antique mall. I love antique malls. Some things are really excellent, and I want them.
But most things...most things are really not. These things should never ever have existed.

And here, for your viewing pleasure (Or to kill some time and fight off boredom) are pictures of some of these creepy, creepy things that they fortunately do not make like they used to (Or at all, which is even better).

 
This is a triangular clown, ummm...thing. It has no arms. It has no pupils. It has no legs. It has no soul.
Why anyone would wish to purchase this, and then display it in their home is beyond me.
But maybe that's not what it's for.
Maybe you are supposed to buy a bunch of these in bulk, and leave one on the doorstep of your arch-nemesis every Wednesday until they go mad (Should take about three Wednesdays).

 

This is perhaps one of the more alarming objects I encountered.

Got children who are too old to believe in Santa, yet still stubbornly cling to their belief that somewhere out there, a jolly man sits Ho-ho-hoing and making them gifts, because he loves them and is kind?
Show them this.
They may still believe Santa exists, but at least they won't insist on leaving him cookies every year.

 

These are clip-on earrings.
Shaped like crabs.
Yes.
Crabs.
"Hey honey, want to see my crabs?"

Yet another wearable horror.
This is a vest.
As if vests weren't bad enough already.
It's quilted. And has a 3D chicken on the back, with it's little chicks doing some sort of creepy-ass pagan dance around it.
WHY DOES THIS EXIST?
Who would wear this?
And on what occasion?

These are some little glass shoes.
The shoes I think are pretty cute.
But I was getting this creepy vibe the whole time I was looking at them.
Kind of like someone/something was....watching me.

If that first Santa picture wasn't enough, send this life-size-to-a-small-impressionable-child Santa figurine after them.
They will never require Christmas presents from old Saint Nick ever again.
I was trying really hard to smile for the camera, but no smiling is possible with this Santa in the immediate vicinity.

These babies were in a glass case.
They appear to be saying, "Please take us out of this case. Take us home, to be with you forever."
For the love of all that is good and  holy, do not take them out of their case, for God only knows what horrors would follow.
And wassup with that pervy looking owl back there? I believe he is a salt shaker.

I really really hope that whoever gave this thing a face was trying to be funny.
But I kinda doubt it.
I pride myself in my ability to be creepy, but I could never match the creepiness of this disembodied head.

I don't know why, but it took me a couple seconds to realize what was wrong with these candles (Aside from the fact that they are plastic, and terribly made).

This is a man with an impressive mustache, and appears to be wearing a sarong.
He also has a lei wrapped around his ankles.
A shopping companion of mine commented, "He got lei'd."
I lol'd. If you didn't, you must not have said it right.

Someone please explain this painting to me.

There two boys, who look like they're heading to a funeral.

The chunky one is looking straight ahead. The other dude is staring straight at you.

They are carrying around a blindfolded angel.

Okay.

This unnerving clown picture was supposed to be last, but since blogger is retarded when it come to posting pictures (Unless you know HTML, which I really don't) it decided it wanted to be here, and if I try to move it, it messes up the alignment of everything.
So anyway.
This is a clown figurine.
Holding sausages.
And he appears to be cutting his tie in half with scissors.
And there's another perverted looking figurine eyeing him suggestively.

I think maybe this is a fountain.
That child looks possessed.
And he's wearing a hat.
And I'm kind of afraid to know what exactly he is doing to that jar.









"LOL, I'm feeling a little bit tipsy, how 'bout you, babe?"
"LOL, yeppers!"








Needless to say, I won't be sleeping well tonight.
There were even more pictures that I didn't show you. I was merciful, and decided that this stuff is probably already way more creepy-spookiness than any human being should be able to take in within a 24-hour period. I also noticed that there were a lot of boobs everywhere. There were seriously a LOT of boobs. So that was kinda creepy too, but I didn't feel the need to document it.

Sooo...yeah.
Sometimes, it's a really good thing that they don't "make 'em like they used to".

Otherwise, we'd all have clowns in our houses.

The Great Kibble War of 2011

My sister Jenni took this picture.
How she got Candy to sit still long enough for this picture
remains a mystery.

This is my doggy.
Her name is Candy.
Candy, like most other dogs, eats doggie kibble.
I assume that she thinks it's moderately tasty.
I don't really want to know. I licked a dog treat once to see what it tasted like, and it didn't really taste like anything. And since those are the TREATS, I assume the normal kibble REALLY tastes like nothing.
That is possibly why Candy gets much more excited over stuff like old turkey, and leftover baked potatoes. (I'll get that bitch a potato. Bitches love potatoes. [SEE WHAT I DID THERE??* And it's even okay that I said bitch, because CANDY IS ONE. :D])

But birds like dog kibble.
BIRDS FREAKING LOVE KIBBLE.

 The doggie dish is right up against the window-y side of the glass dining room door, so it took a while for the birds to become brave enough to sneak over and take kibble, when they thought no people or cats were looking. For a period of time, no one really cared, because the birds didn't steal kibble often, and half the time a cat would get excited to see a bird so close, and SPLAT themselves against the window, scaring the feathered thief away.

 But our wily little birdie nemeses (Yes, I had to Google the plural of nemesis. That's good. It means I rarely have more than one nemesis) were growing braver.
 They still become spooked by splatting cats, but they come straight back. We started hitting the window to scare them off, but the second we turned away, back they would come, and would resume shoveling kibbles down their little birdie throats.

Now, one might think Candy would chase the birds away from her dinner. After all, she is a dog. They are taking HER DINNER.
One thinks wrong.
Candy is much like me, and doesn't really care much about food, though delicious treats are EXCELLENT.
And even if Candy DID love food, she still wouldn't actually defend her Free Kibble Rights. But Candy is a big apathetic chicken. She won't even play fetch. You throw a ball, she just stares up at it, like, "Ooooh, look at the pretty flying spherical object! I think I'll just sit and watch it from afar." Then she resumes walking around your legs and rubbing on you like a kitty. Everything scares her, from sudden loud noises, to other dogs, to the satellite guy.
If someone tried to rob us, she'd go hide in her doghouse (But on the plus side, our current mode of Kibble Defense would probably scare away any intruder. Read on).


 Grandma has been saying for a while that she'd get us one of those creepy motion-sensor owls, designed to keep unwelcome critters off of your lawn, but she hasn't done it yet, and since she's been rather preoccupied with eye surgery at the present, I doubt she will be shopping for creepy bug-eyed hooting owls anytime soon.


My younger sister Kimberly designed her own ant-kibble-theft device. She got a red piece of construction paper, cut fringe along the edges, and then attached big paper googly eyes to the front. She then affixed it to the front of the doggie dish.
It kinda worked. The female birds would just stand and yell at it, while the male birds would just march past it (LIKE A KIBBLE-MUNCHIN' BAWSS) and gleefully munch their ill-gotten dinner.

Clearly, something more needed to be done.
And ohhhh yes, something more has been done.

Today, my dad returned from Wal*Mart with THIS:

Isn't he unnerving?

It's an inflatable bird-scaring device.
I don't know if it truly scares birds, but it sure as hell scares ME.
It's got eyes on all sides.
I believe this is what Pac-Man looks like when stoned.
It had been hanging in the far corner of the patio, away from the window, but apparently Dad found that to not be very effective, and he moved it.
Right over the dog dish.
And directly in front of the window.

So now we have stoned Pac-Man staring in at us.

Suddenly, the fact that we rarely get to sit down to dinner, all together in the dining room, is not bad. Not bad at all.

Bunny only appears undisturbed.
I'm sure he was shaking in his boots.

Operation Stoned Pac-Man so far appears to be a success. The soldiers have not reported any more attacks, and I certainly haven't seen any. Not that I've been looking.

In the Great Kibble War, we seem to be winning.
But as the enemy grows accustomed to seeing Stoned Pac-Man lurking over the coveted kibbles, they may begin to launch their attacks with renewed intensity, and we may find ourselves immersed again in the throes of battle.

Give us kibble, or give us death.

Although I'm sure Candy would just prefer a baked potato.

*If you do not in fact see what I did there, don't feel bad. You just don't hang out on Memebase enough.