I want to be a Ghost Hunter

I am a bit addicted to this show.

TAPS - The Atlantic Paranormal Society.

Jason & Grant are the kind of guys I want to go camping with. Can you imagine the stories they could tell over a roaring fire, deep in the skeery woods? Dream come true.

I just discovered their rad website.

They are coming to St. Louis on 10/20, lecturing at UMSL.

I am so there.

Yup - I am a TAPS stalker.

Seriously, I love me some spooky stories. I have a few in my back pocket, a couple that happened to friends, and one situation that happened to me.

I'll lay the first of these stories out as spookily as I can, while I attempt to dodge finishing my homework. Names have not been changed, and the details are laid out to the best of my recollection. I swear. No embellishments, just the facts as I remember them.

Story #1
The Turntable Antichrist

My friend Kurt Hassebrock, who I've known since we were 7, told me this story one night as we were closing up at Bonanza. He's a very solid, down-to-earth guy, and he would not josh me. So I know it's true.

When he was a young lad of 6, he came home from school and went to the basement to listen to records...Kiss, I believe. As he was rocking out to "Shout It Out Loud", he heard footsteps upstairs, and ran up from the basement to greet his mom, assuming she was home from work. Snack time!

When he got to the top of the stairs, tummy rumbling, the air was still. Deathly still. Not a sound. The house was empty.

Completely empty.

Silent.

Still.

So, not thinking much about it, he went back downstairs to continue on with his rockfest. "Detroit Rock City" rang out of the stereo console, and Kurt shook his grade-school booty playing air-guitar like a master. After a while, he heard the creaking of footsteps from above.

He walked up the stairs this time, not that excited but still craving a snacky snack and a little tired from his jam session.

Again, the stillness was palpable.

Nothing.

Nobody was home.

Or was there?

Now the tot was a bit freaked out, but went back downstairs to hang out and wait. When he got downstairs, he settled into the beanbag to listen to the soothing sounds of Peter Criss singing "Beth"...

"Beth, I hear you callin - but I can't come home right now. Me and the boys are playin, and we just can't find the souuuunnndddd..."

It was at that moment, into the first stanza of this rock-n-roll ballad, he saw something move over by the stereo. On top of the stereo.

It was a fluttering of sorts. Fluttering, although there were no windows to produce a breeze.

On top of the pile of records, something was shifting.

Lifting.

Moving.

Levitating.

Something was levitating above the stereo.

Anne Murray.

Holy crap. It was Anne Murray.

Anne Murray was floating above the stereo.

In Kurt's rock-n-roll basement.

Actually, it was Anne Murray's album, Danny's Song. You know, the one with "Killing Me Softly With His Song" on it.

Anne Murray. Killing me softly. Killing the rock and roll mood softly with a bit of soft-rock horror.

Anne Murray wanted to kill Kurt Hassebrock slowly. With her evil, cheesy song.

And so, it was official.

Kiss were not spawned of the Devil. No, not Kiss.

Anne Murray was.

Anne Murray was the Antichrist.

Kurt ran upstairs, and his mom had just gotten home. He tried his best, breathless and frightened, to tell his tale of terror, but who believes a 6-year old kid? Especially one who's been listening to Kiss?

No one.

And so, Kurt stayed away from his sub-level rawk haven for awhile, but as most kids do, they forget, and he eventually went downstairs again and got his metal on.

But he never forgot Anne Murray, and her message to him that fateful day after school.

Anne Murray. The original soft-rock Antichrist.

And seriously, is this NOT THE FREAKIEST ALBUM COVER EVER????????




Stick around, dear readers, as Story #2 will be coming sooooooooooonnnnnnn......


boo.

About Me...

A few things I thought I'd share with the universe...

I love all things scary - haunted houses, Halloween, Ghost Hunters, scary movies. What freaks most people out, I say, bring it on.

I like to fish. Really, REALLY like to fish. Put me in a boat with a loaded pole, a cooler of frosty beverages and the sun, and I'm a happy girl.

I feel like I discover musicians before most everyone I know does. I liked The Kills, Cibo Matto and Modest Mouse long before they became commercial. So they belong to me.

8 times out of 10, when I walk or drive past a street light, it goes out. I am magnetic.

My superior sense of smell makes it difficult for me to live what I consider to be a normal life.

It's difficult for me to understand what most men say when conversing via cellphone. It all sounds like "whaa whaa whaaa", you know, Charlie Brown's teacher-speak. I guess it's the tonality or something???

I don't have addictions to any substance. Never have. But I do have an obsession with Jimmy Stewart.

I go a little crazy-happy every autumn. The cool weather, smell of the leaves and burning wood, makes me gladly loopy. It's during this time I'm primed for big crushes and falling a little in love.

Some days I'm 5'7 1/2, some days I'm 5'8 1/2. And yes, I stand up straight every time. No shoes, no socks, no idea.

I'm a woman's woman. And I'm a man's woman. I don't put one sex on a pedestal over another - equality for all. Unless you're a jerk - man or woman, no points for you.

I think Denis Leary, Brendan Fraser, Illeana Douglas and Kelly McDonald are all highly underrated performers.

When I get stressed, running my hands under a faucet of ice-cold water calms me down. It's freeing in a weird way.

A fair-weather friend is a contradiction, and I have no time for contradictions.

Naked man ankles make me cringe. You know, like when men wear deck shoes/loafers and no socks? Cover it up, boys.

I have no desire to be a daredevil. Hang-gliding, sky-diving, white water rafting and motorcycle riding are not on any of my To-Do lists. However, I would like to drive an Indy car, go up in a hot-air balloon, and watch my brother perform surgery someday.

I think that athletes of certain professions should be paid a higher salary than others, and I base this on skill and the potential for injury. In order, highest to lowest, are:

- Hockey (major skill and mad-fast, icy danger)
- Football (major danger and skill)
- Basketball (mostly skill, some danger)
- Golf (skill only, 0 danger factor)
- Baseball (some skill, minor danger)

I have a love/hate relationship with Sundays. I love sleeping in, the Sunday morning NPR programs, and early afternoons, but after 5:00 I get that "tomorrow's a school day" feeling and with every hour that goes by, I get closer to having to be a responsible citizen.

Albums On My Turntable

My kicks as of late are coming from:

Sham 69 - If The Kids Are United
Throw Me The Statue - Creaturesque (thanks Jeff)
Juliette Lewis - Terra Incognita
Metric - Fantasies
Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix
Ida Maria - Fortress Round My Heart
The Blakes - The Blakes
Spinnerette - Spinnerette
Front 242 - Front By Front

THE SPOILED UNDER-30 CROWD!!!

If you are 30 or older, you might find this hilarious!!!! Or not....

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears
with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning...

uphill... barefoot...

BOTH ways...

Yadda, yadda, yadda!

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up,
there was no way in hell I was going to lay
a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it
and how easy they've got it!

But now that I'm over the ripe old age of
thirty, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my
childhood, you live in a damn Utopia.

And I hate to say it, but you kids today, you
don't know how good you've got it.

I mean, when I was a kid, we didn't have The Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and
look it up ourselves, in the card catalogue.

There was no email. We had to actually write
somebody a letter... with a pen!

Then we had to walk all the way to the steet and put it in the mailbox, and it would take, like, a week to get there. Stamps were 10 cents.

Child Protective Services didn't care if our parents beat us. As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick our ass.

Nowhere was safe.

There were no MP3s nor Napsters. You wanted to
steal music, you had to hitchhike to the damn record store and shoplift it yourself.

Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio, and the DJ'd usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up.

There were no CD players. We had tape decks in our car. We'd play our favorite tape and "eject" it when finished, and the tape would come undone.


We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting. If you
were on the phone and somebody else called, they got a busy signal, that's it.

And we didn't have fancy Caller ID, either.
When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school,
your mom, your boss, your Bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent... you
just didn't know. You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister.

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video
games with high-resolution 3-D graphics. We had the Atari 2600. With games
like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your guy was a little square! You
actually had to use your imagination. And there were no multiple levels or
screens... it was just one screen
forever!

And you could never win. The game just kept getting
harder and harder and
faster and faster until you died. Just like LIFE!


You had to use a little book called a 'TV Guide' to find out what was
on. You were screwed when it came to channel surfing. You had to get off
your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel, and there were only three of them, ABC, NBC. and CBS. There was no
Cartoon Network either. You could only get cartoons
on Saturday morning. Do you hear what I'm saying!? We had to wait ALL WEEK
for cartoons, you spoiled
little rat-bastards.

And we didn't have microwaves, either. If we wanted to heat
something up, we had to use the stove ... Imagine that.

That's exactly what I'm talking about. You kids
today have got it too easy.
You're spoiled. You guys wouldn't have lasted
five minutes back in 1980.

Regards,
The over-30 crowd.

Where art thou, Happiness?

Two long, hard, rough days. Not just for me, but for others I know as well.

So, I went looking for some happiness. Found it here.

And here.

And most importantly, here.

Long live the Chocolate Bunny.

Earrrrrly

I tried my best to sleep in this morning.

I did.

My plans were thwarted.

Yes, thwarted. Great word, and when I have cause to use it I take full advantage.

The evil villains who did the thwarting?

It was a group effort, although I doubt it was planned.

Villain #1 will remain nameless, because he will get an earful from me in the near future anyway.

Villain #2 is, of course, Oliver.

Can this girl catch a break? Do I have to rent a hotel room and kennel the dude to catch some decent Z's?

Guess so.

On the bright side, the sunrise is amazing, and I'll get to the park early today and get the pain over with.

Promotion Emotion

I just saw a TV ad for Old Navy. They are running their "$19 Jean" sale. Again. They just had one, two weeks ago.

Except this time, if you purchase a pair of jeans on Saturday, you get a FREEEEE graphic print T-shirt.

Groovy. I need some new sleepwear.