3500 Salem Witch Murderers Can't Be Wrong

Here we are again: Halloween! It is my favorite holiday. Brit and I had a huge day (Halloween parade and showing off at Dad's work) so I have no time to post a scary description about my gypsy family and our gift...perhaps a post Halloween post tomorrow? But to tide you over, here is the most adorable chilli pepper on earth...and her adoring parents.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Bite Someone. Did anyone else get the Salem Witch Trial reference?

...But Mostly Pampered Chef

These things are overrated:

Photo Studios
Gouchos
Churches
The Military
Home Videos Of You And Your Partner
Gwen Stefani
Bulemia
Camera Phones
Pampered Chef

That Damn Peacock Ponytail Thing That Everyone Does To Their Hair

Flavored Water

The Chicken Dance
Pink
Hurrican Relief Efforts
Owning A Home
High Heels

You Better Check Yourself...

There are a few apologies I must make before I die. I decided to start with this weekend.


Brian: I'm sorry for drinking a lot of your vodka...a lot. I'm sorry for giving your new wife a 30 minute lap dance. I'm sorry I called you a nasty santa which I didn't even know until I saw the tape. You're not nasty at all and I don't think you look a bit like Santa, but if you did it wouldn't be a nasty one.



Dave: I'm sorry I said you posed the same way every time. (the thumbs up) because its obvious here that you have other poses. I'm sorry I spent more time filling my drink than talking about your adorable son. Tell your wife I'm sorry as well. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her, not
that I would have remembered it.

Although, you DO like the thumb.


Ray: I'm sorry that I let you make my drinks. I'm sorry that I let you tape me when I'm drunk. I'm sorry to you personally for telling you that you weren't as lucky as Brian in the member department. Your size is just fine and Kristen is quite happy.




Toni: I'm sorry I gave you a lap dance 5 minutes after I met you. I realize now that this is not the greatest first impression to make on someone outside of a strip club. I really wish I could remember the conversations we had but I only know you take some sort of martial art and you're a green belt.....

although you weren't wearing it that night. I also realize I don't even know how to correctly spell your name. I hope we can meet up again sometime because what I can remember was I enjoyed your company and you were a very good sport.



Kristen: I'm sorry you had to put up with the drunk Tam. Although you say you like her, I'm sure you're just being nice or you were drunk yourself. I'm also sorry I gave your puppy daddy a lap dance while you were outside on the porch viewing it from the window. I myself don't remember that moment at all but more than one person has told me it happened.

Christie and Tom: I'm sorry that after more than a year since we've seen each other, the only words we exchanged were "Spicy Latina" and how Tom only drinks one kind of beer. If I were sober when you arrived I would have told the both of you how happy I was for your recent nuptials and that you finally moved closer and joined civilization again.

Amy: I'm sorry I went out on your porch with my huge British shoes and did a noisy jig in order to wake up or disturb your skinny neighbor upstairs...not to mention your entire neighborhood. I'm sorry I ate all the cheddar cheese and just let the swiss out to dry up. I'm sorry I hid in the bathtub while your husband went potty. I am sorry I didn't charge you for the 30 minute lap dance.

Matt: I realize now that this is the face you wore almost the whole evening...that "I'm pretending I'm not be upset about the 5 lap dances, 4 falling on the floors, 3 attempts at getting someone peeing on camera, 2 loud, obnoxious and hurtful digs on her fiance' and one glass that held many rounds of vodka and pomegranite" face. The red eye glare is about right as well. I'm sorry I acted the way I did. I'm sorry for forgetting about you until the end of the evening when you started filling my glass with water. I'm sorry I spent Sunday morning puking instead of hanging out with you. I apologize for EVERY LITTLE, OBNOXIOUS, UNFORGIVABLE thing I did Saturday night. But I really don't think we should be over. Since you've blocked my emails and won't take my calls, I wanted to try and apologize here. I think we can get through this and move on. I think you should come back home. Britain misses you. I miss you. It feels so empty here without you, in the house AND my heart. I'm begging you. I love you. Please come back to me.

I promise I'll be good.

Love Means Never Hitting Someone With A Shovel

My latest adventure in babysitting happened Tuesday. I was making macaroni and cheese (story of my life) and the kids were outside in the front yard raking leaves, well not so much RAKING as SHOVELING leaves because they couldn't find the rake. Soon, I heard a blood curdling scream from Payton: "TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM! TAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM!" I thought for sure someone had been hit by a car, fell out of the tree, broke a nail...something horrible. I ran outside and Payton seemed to be ok, just very distraught. I soon figured out the problem when Julia (the 5 year old OTHER little girl I nanny) was coming at me with blood gushing down her face. It was like a scene out of a horror film (those really big budget ones with those up and coming actors from the WB). I realized that head wounds gush and tried to remain calm. Apparently, Payton hadn't seen Julia was behind her and whacked her with the shovel, all The Shining-like. After trying to stay calm, keeping everyone else calm and putting enough pressure on her head to finally stop the bleeding, I assessed the situation and could see that Julia wouldn't need more than one stitch, if that. I obtained a medical degree since I've posted last. I called her mother right away and told her she'd be alright,but she might want to come pick up her daughter who only wanted her mother. I understand how Superman feels.

Julia before the attack.

I called that night at 10pm and Erin, her mother said she was doing fine...they had tried waking her up but she was in such a beautiful deep sleep that they didn't have the heart to wake her. Concussions will do that.

Ghost Busted II

Alright.

I don't know what's going on and I'm really freaked out and ready to board up my basement. I hadn't heard the pool balls in months. Then I post that story about it Sunday and last night all hell breaks loose! I came home yesterday to the sound of pool balls. But not just any game! It sounded like one intense game of cue! Crack after crack after crack. I had my camera with me because I had taken pictures of the girls bowling that day and I ran downstairs all ready to capture whatever might be down there (as Mike suggested). Call me crazy, but I think I got something.

Scroll down. You have to look close. To the left of the pool table. IS THAT NOT ..........

The first post is absolutely true though. We've heard someone playing with our balls, it just will probably NEVER be documented.

Ghost Busted

I believe in 4 things that no one has been able, in my opinion, to PROVE to be true: evolution vs. Adam & Eve, Gypsy runs through my veins, karma, and ghosts.

When we bought this house, we were left:
*a few odds and ends in the garage
*an entertainment center that, unless you took it apart, wouldn't fit through the dormer bedroom upstairs so there it stayed
*and a pool table almost as old as I am...definitely older than Matt.

The people that lived here before us lived here for 20 years. In fact, the reason they moved was because HE was building HER a new house for their 20th wedding anniversary. Their first big purchase was the pool table, that sits down in the basement. Its not in too bad of shape and I liked the fact that it had character. They didn't feel like taking it apart if we wanted it because they said they were just going to throw it out anyway.

But it didn't take more than a few weeks for me to question why they might have REALLY left it. One night, I was washing dishes in the sink and Matt was home as well. The door to the basement is in the kitchen and I could hear Matt playing pool downstairs, just messing around. After washing up the last dish, I went to throw away the gunk that was left in the sink trap into the garbage can, which sits by the basement door. I noticed the light in the basement wasn't on. I wondered how Matt could have come up without me noticing. Although, sometimes when I clean, I get in my own little world. Still, I did think it was peculiar that he didn't even stop by and give me a swat on the butt or a kiss on some other body part. I thought nothing else of it until a few months later.

Matt started working 2nd shift shortly after we got pregnant. I was home alone for an hour or so at night until my brother, JR (living with us at the time) would get home from work as well. I started to make myself some dinner one evening and heard the pool balls hitting each other again. I thought perhaps JR could be home early and I hadn't noticed his car. As I turned the corner for the basement door, I realized AGAIN that the light was not on. I quickly switched it on and investigated, but nothing. I thought for a moment that our younger, more frisky kitty Simon could have been knocking around the balls but the pool table was exactly as we had left it, pool balls in pockets and all cue sticks in their place. I chalked it up to pregnancy brain and superstition, so I kept it to myself when JR came home.

Since that night, I've heard that same sound a handful more times and waited at least 3 or 4 instances to tell Matt. Although he hadn't heard it at the time I told him, he DID hear it one evening when we both were home. It was AGAIN a time where I thought he was in the basement. We both were a little freaked out, but still didn't tell anyone else.

I haven't heard it lately, but I have to wonder if the couple who lived here ever had a similar experience. The woman came around only a few more times (dropping off extra keys, grabbing stray letters and packages, etc) and then didn't call or come back after that, even though she DID still have something for us (a microwave part that was being repaired and she was picking up).

Did they leave the pool table for a reason?

Has anyone ELSE had an encounter with a ghost or spirit?

I DO have some other stories as well but don't want to put all my balls in one pocket HA!HA! ha (clears throat) I will say, these strange occurrences that have happened to me just solidify my belief that my mother, who is adopted, came from a group of traveling gypsies. That wasn't sarcasm, Kristen. I DO believe this. My mother, sister Michelle and possibly my sister Theresa (as well as myself) all have "the gift". I'll save the strange happenings that each of us have experienced for another blog entry closer to Halloween.

But what to do with the pool ball shenanigans? Perhaps some poor ghost might have lost big time at a pool game and he's still pissed about it. He's trying to get something through to me. And he just keeps practicing and practicing and practicing and....

3 Cans Of Soup And A Roll Of Film

Why do I always attract the crazy strangers? Half of the reason is because Britain's usually with me, either in her carseat in a cart in front of me or she's attached to various body parts of mine. The other half is I just don't know how to get away from these people once they have their crazy clutches on me. This morning at Giant Eagle, while picking up salad ingredients, a looney old lady spotted me in one of the first few aisles. She had wild, shoulder length, grey curly hair and really big eyes...CRAZY eyes! Her eyeliner was smudged and at least a week old and her lipstick was possibly named putrid pink. I immediately put a protective hand on Brit.

"This must be a little one." One would think it was obvious Britain is still little considering she's in an infant seat and still has no hair, but when you're off your meds...

"Yes, she's three months." I made sure to put the emphasis on SHE to save further questioning or calling her "he".

Britain immediately begins to get freaked out by this woman (who had only 4 things in her cart, 3 cans of soup and a roll of film...to feed her kidnapee while she took pictures?) and she started to fuss. This endearing woman who will now be playing the part of "Myrtle" reached over and tried shoving Brit's binky in her mouth. First of all, please don't touch my child or anything my child puts in her mouth. Second of all, your psychiatrist called and she wants to be let out of your basement. I sweetly but firmly informed Myrtle that Britain is not one for the binky unless she's really hungry or tired...not because you are scaring the shit out of her with your deathray stare, and took the binky into my own hands. I later shoved it way down in the diaper bag to burn later.

She then gives me a once over asks straight out "How old are you?" I DO get this question a lot, mostly in bars, movie theaters or from my clients on Friday nights.

"I'm 27. I realize I look younger"...and approachable to mentally ill, psych ward escapees.

"Well, how old do you think I am?" Myrtle has a tooth missing on the bottom and one almost rotting off on the top.

While my ice cream is melting as well as my patience: "Um 39!?"

"I'm 66!", which amazingly is the same amount of pills she is prescribed to take each day. "My mother was the same way. And now, so is my daughter. It only runs in the female side, you know?" Mrytle, PhD then proceeded to tell me her life story. I inch my cart along the aisle as she follows. I pretend to have a shopping list on a piece of paper I have and I'm trying to give her the hint that the small talk has now crossed the line over to a creepy conversation about her mother in law and dead birds. An elderly couple a few cereal boxes down gives me a pity look. I mouth "HELP" but they do not. FINALLY she has finished with her tale and starts heading in the other direction. I'm so out of there.

Until the paper products aisle.

I was looking for a tall kleenex box to fit in a tissue holder I just got and she snuck up on me. "She really IS adorable" she said while looking at Britain with an I-could-probably-starve-her-only-a-few-days-before-she-became-too-weak-to-react-to-my-torturing look. Then, as only delirious people would, she asked me if I knew where the ramen noodles were. Why in the hell would you be looking for ramen noodles in the paper products aisle? I told her WAAAYY over there in the soup aisle, far far away from my child and myself. She then started in on another story and I cut her off after only a few sentences with "Wow, I better check out! I'll be late for work!"

"Where do you work?"

"Have a nice day," I said over my shoulder as I was literally racing to pick up the last few items and taking a mental picture of Myrtle for the police.