I’m moving to a haunted house. I won’t get into all the specifics about how I KNOW it’s haunted, that’s for another day; this is just an intro post to what might be a new series on my blog called, “My Haunted House”.
Some people don’t believe in spirits which their prerogative but I also think it’s a little strange when someone doesn’t believe. They will say things like, “It’s never been scientifically proven.” to which I usually reply, “Science is simply the quest to answer unanswered questions. Things that weren’t proven 100 years ago were no less real then than they are now. So, it’s just a matter of time.” And if science NEVER “proves” the existence of spirits; that’s okay too because I have enough of my own experiences to draw a very solid conclusion.
We are set to move at the end of September so here’s hoping for peaceful coexistence!
After blowing K away with my awesome rap skills to Salt n’ Pepa’s “Shoop”, I asked if he loved me more now that he knows I can rap.
He said, “Yes. If we ever find ourselves in the ghetto and need to rap to save our lives, you’ve got it covered.”
Amy is made of lipstick, family, and Mother Nature. With a dash of Picasso.
I also tried it using both my first and last name and got: Amy R***** is made of Trance, papers, and Justice. With a dash of porn.
I think they hit the nail on the head.
A facebook message to my best friend last night after the bar:
Accidnetley wasted and I refuse to fix any tiph=so Itpups (typose) you know what i’m trying to say.
So K and i are bored and we decided to go down to main street because they have the harly shoe in town this wekned so we wer gonna go down and chek out some bikes and live music etc. this was around 7 pm but then it started to pour so we changed plans and decided to go to the bar on saint george st called Plan B (geniusly named because it WAS actually our plan B in this cae)
Anyway! 7 pm. I was only planning to have OBE little drink because I have to wrk in the am so that ws the idea… anway, we get there and i order a Long Isalnd Iced TEa and the bartender has bthis deer in headlights look on his face for a second because he’s the day time bartender and is only used to serving beer aprarently. He was really sweet tho.
So he confers with this other girl that works thatre and there’s 2 ways to make it. one is with all the separate liquors which would make a really expensive drink and the other way is to use the mix which is the stuff I alwyas buy. So i say the mix is okay but i think he thinks the mix is just for flavor because he asks me what type of alcphol I want in it. I said Gin was good so he gives me my drink, i start drinking it and it is STROMG!!
LSter on, i gk;ance over at the bar to see them looking at the bottle of LIIT mix and laughing becaus they realize that stuff is 38%. He comes over to ask how my drink was and I’m a third of the way through it and already drunk. I say it was good but i need some more pop to top it off. He tells me he found the recipe for it after the fact and put ALOT more alchol in it than he sould have. No shit!! He put the LIIT mix PLUS gin on toip of it. So, yeah, i finished most of it and can’t feel a fucking thing an hour later.
I have this idea that the people that live in the house in front of us are hoarders. They’re the kind of people that keep old mattresses and junk in their yard all year. Their blinds are broken and all the screens on their windows are shredded. They keep their crappy air conditioner (that looks like it’s going to fall out at any moment) in the window all year, even in the winter because in my head they can’t get past all the junk to take it out.
And they may or may not have a dog. I’ve seen a little dog stick his head out of a second story window and have seen him outside their yard a few times. Every time he’s let out he escapes under the fence as if to say, “FREEDOM!!!!” like Braveheart, but aside from those FEW times, I never see him out in their yard, like to pee or play or anything. So either they have visitors occasionally who have this dog, or they own the dog and he pees/poops on maybe not imaginary junk piles.