Monday, August 29, 2011

'Twas Hainted!

Izaak here (duh).

     I recently spent the night in a haunted bed & breakfast, courtesy of my mama, in some undisclosed location (another dimension....) with my bff "L'chaimay". The plan was to see the ghosts we meant to see several years ago, when all we saw was a bunch of cops, banshees, phantasms, wraiths, a few shades, and three apparitions. So..... we decided to bring along the ol' bottle of absinthe to ensure their visitation.

     Upon arrival, we chatted with the owners "Poop" and "Madame Sparkle" about the history of the B&B and what there was to do in this probable other dimension. They told us that we could swim in a body of water and eat at "Giant Gut's Gloryhole". Appetizing. We swam, we ate at... that place, and we played cards until the sun went down. What followed was a pleasantly eventful night of frolicking about town THE OTHER DIMENSION and going back and forth between the two bars, rightfully named "Bar" and "Other Bar", that were positioned a delightful thirty feet from one another.

     After eating two bags of bar chips (up to interpretation) each and having light-hearted conversation with the most adorably horrifying small town otherworldly couple, L'chaimay and I decided to hit the hay that was conveniently located approximately two feet above what we perceive as reality.

BACKSTORY. I figure it's probably best to let y'all know what sort of things have happened to past guests of the B&B. The main tagonist of the B&B is apparently an elderly woman, who always wore a red cardigan, named Bertha. She had a heart-attack in the room we reserved and past guests had complained of: being sat on, having their arms stroked, and having the bed made by a ghost while they were in it. She is the most frequently sighted ghost. Other ghosts include the guy who yells "washington!" at people and disappears, and the gray-haired woman who glares at people and disappears (usually).

     We slept peacefully, after staring at all the pretty patterns decorating our room, and awoke in the morning feeling well-rested and slightly perturbed over having not been sat on, felt-up, or turned into a delicious sleeping-mortal burrito. L'chaimay claims otherwise, but she's fat.

     We went downstairs and were treated to Poop's delicious homemade breakfast of breakfasty things and Madame Sparkle's cynical rantings before once again returning to our haunted room for the last and best time. As we packed, we remembered that the B&B kept a journal in each room for guests to log about their stays and thoughts. We decided to take advantage of the situation and write the best (duh) and most informative (triple duh) entry that Poop, Madame Sparkle, and any past and future guests have seen and will ever see. I took the liberty of photographing the entry, but I'll just type it out for ya.

It goes as follows. VERBATIM (with some things changed according to my blogging policies).

8/28/2011

     "We are a young couple visiting from Missoula by request of the Montana Paranormal Society. We are both experts in our field: sleeping in haunted places. We were unaware of the challenging tasks that lay ahead of us. Upon arrival, we were greeted by Madame Sparkle and Poop who were very cordial and welcoming but mostly excited to have professional help. We were given the key to room 5, "The Haunted Room" and opened to door to a room full of very negative energy. We discussed out plan of action over dinner at Giant Gut's and walked around town to mentally prepare ourselves. We retired around 10:30 PM and our night immediately took a turn for the worst. 
     It started with a loud "THUD" on the bathroom door. Upon investigation, we found an elderly woman in a red cardigan face-down on the bathroom floor. We poked her with our patented "Paranormal Investigation Stick", but received no response so we closed the door and went back to bed. Approximately two hours later, around 1:00 AM, we were awoken suddenly by a loud shriek. The bed then began to shake violently and blood started oozing out of the walls. It was frightening, but we had survived World War II, we could make it through this. We told the spirits to "knock it off". They did. Around 3:00 AM, we were again awoken by the woman in the red cardigan. She lightly touched our arms, as if to say "I'm back". She sank back into the dark corner of the room and began screaming about how much her heart hurt. She stepped toward the bed and fell on it, torso up. She begged for our help as she sank slowly to the floor. We grabbed our patented poking stick and poker her in the eye. Ghosts are notoriously good actors. 
     We woke up around 8:00 AM to find that the walls had stopped oozing and the woman on the floor had gained about 200 pounds and a brightly-colored, floral-print muumuu. We had to call the authorities to have the body removed. Well played, Bertha. Afterward, we enjoyed a delicious homemade breakfast and some morning chatter with Poop, Madame Sparkle, and the other guests, out of which an obese woman had gone missing during the night. Our findings indicate that this bed and breakfast is indeed haunted. We rate its scare factor a 4.7/10 screams.
     Now we're off to visit the "Midnight Stabbings" hotel in Hellhole, MT. Our work here is done.

     Thanks for the hospitality, and happy hauntings!

- L'chaimay and Izaak"

We also drew some little ghosts at the bottom of the third page. Isn't real-life trolling fun?


"Raezak is a fabric which never fades, no matter how often it is 
washed in the waters of adversity and grief"

Raezak Am.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

On punching children in the face

Izaak here.

     I feel that it's safe to say celebrities are, at some point during the day, discussed, thought of, or seen by practically everybody living in The good ol' US of A along with many other parts of the world. Whether they be: Britney Spears, Tom Gabel, President Obama, Jesus, the fat, black girl who is ostensibly "sittin' on the toilet", or the stupid man from Lolo, MT who collects Santa figurines, it's hard to keep these famous individuals out of mind.

     I also feel that it's safe to say that, with the amount of our time that is taken up by these individuals, practically everybody develops some sort of emotional feeling toward the individuals themselves. I for one, know which famous people I would sleep with, which of them I would be friends with, which of them I would marry, which of them I would party with, which of them I would have as rich gay uncles (that's shouting out to you, Oprah), and which of them I would cut, stab, maim, torture, cuddle, and/or kill. As gruesome, horrific, or awesome as that may sound, it's just something that develops as I'm exposed to the individuals over time.

     Of all the celebrities in the world, none has received quite as much bad rep as Ms Rebecca Black did after releasing the power-ballad we all know as "Friday". I'm betting she received more hate mail in the course of one week than Hitler did during all of World War II (and we claim to be such altruistic patriots). I've had many a heated discussion about this acute hatred that united our world with my good friend, who I will refer to as Fursula (because she is sexy, full of fervor, and half-octopus).

     Fursula is extremely opinionated and stubborn. She will stand her ground with more pride than the brave soldiers who raised the U.S. flag during The Battle of Iwo Jima. Normally this is okay because her opinions are well meant, but on the subject of Rebecca Black she maintains, with extraordinary adamance, that she would punch the poor girl in the face on site. For those of you who don't know, Ms Black recently celebrated her fourteenth birthday. Fursula is a college student of appropriate age and maintains her defense that "it's old enough to know better than to make such horrible music!". Not good enough, you sick and twisted hot octopus woman.

    I don't think that anybody should ever even consider punching a child in the face and, after watching an old-as-shit trashy-as-shit man pummel a native man's face with a rock for several minutes, I feel that violence should never be the answer (unless you're in a zombie apocalypse or at Walmart on Black Friday. In which case, feel free to hack, slash, shoot, and trample to your heart's content).

violence ==> fear ==> hatred ==> violence

    (I hope that the flow chart helps to explain my reasoning behind not punching the next generation in the face, but I seem to have confused even myself because it's a ray rather than a loop. Oh well.)

     It might seem like experiencing an emotion on this flow chart can only lead to violence, but that's not the case. I'm horribly afraid of sharks, but I'd rather do a stand-up routine with one or fly to the moon on one than punch it in the face (it would eat my hand!). I also have within me a deeply-seeded hatred for one Rebecca Black, but I'd rather give her a stern talking to or lobotomize her than punch her in the face (it would eat my hand!). This just goes to show that violence can and should be avoided at all costs, lest you lose a hand.

    This rant isn't meant to rule out violence all together because some things can only be dealt with in violent ways, like mosquitoes and mountains, but I do hope it sheds some light on something somewhere.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: [voice comes out of nowhere] Luke. Luke!
Luke Skywalker: [weakly] Ben?
Obi-Wan Kenobi: You will go to the Dagobah system.
Luke Skywalker: Dagobah system?
Obi-Wan Kenobi: There you will learn from Raezak. Raezak am.
Raezak am.

PS - That said, I really want to punch Justin Bieber in the face (he's seventeen!).