So there I was, right?  Just sitting there, at my desk, trying to
decide what to write about.  Not much physical straining going
on.  Just sitting.  And then, all of a sudden, I felt an odd
sensation on the back of my neck.  Like...wet.  So I put my
hand back there, and guess what?

Blood.  All over the back of my neck.

Now, I cannot figure out where this blood was coming from.  I
can’t even find a HOLE.  It’s like I just sprung a leak.  Either
that, or it isn’t my blood, but seeing as I’m the only one here,
that explanation sort of falls flat.

Of course, now that I realize that I am bleeding from...
somewhere, I guess – I hurt.  Badly.  PAIN, everywhere that
could potentially be a candidate for the bloodletting.  My neck
– ouch!  My head! Ow ow ow!  Even my hair hurts now.  Oh!  
My poor hair.

But then, because I am neurotic and paranoid, it occurred to
me that maybe the blood was dripping
onto me.  From some
horrible creature crouching right above my desk!  With red
eyes and long fangs!  And that eats Miss Doxie!  Oh, horrors!

So, guess what my dumb ass did?  Very casually, and without
looking up, I stood, turned around, and RAN LIKE HELL out of
the room.  Like the scared little girl that I am.

Pathetic.  Especially when I turned around after I exited the
room, to see what was up there.  And of course, the answer is
“not a damn thing,” but that means nothing to me, because
don’t y’all know that monsters can be invisible?  Well.  They
can.

Anyway.  I write this (tie it in, Miss Doxie!)  to give you some
background as to just how paranoid my imagination can make
me.  (And also to ask if any of y’all know why my neck is
bleeding.  Is there some spontaneous bleeding disease I don’
t know about?  Like, some strain of Stigmata?  Of the neck?  
Anyway.)  My brain goes to strange, strange places.  And
why?  Is it the steady stream of crappy television and horror
movies that I constantly impose on my system?  Is it the
endless nights of playing “Light as a feather” with my
friends?  (Seriously, you guys, I could always totally make up
the best stories for Light as a Feather.  You want to die a
gruesome, gruesome death, you just talk to a nine-year-old
Miss Doxie.  There were
beheadings, y’all.)  What IS it that
makes me so convinced that behind every corner, and on the
other side of every closet door, is some hideous, Miss Doxie-
eating thing?

And furthermore, why is it that I have
no idea what it is that
scares me?  If you were to ask me, all logically, what I’m so
scared of, I’d just shrug and look petrified.  Because frankly, I
have no fucking idea.  I have sort of an odd feeling that
whatever it is, it’s green.  Why is it green?  No clue.  I think    it’
s because...well.  I'm not sure, actually.  Maybe because slimy
things are green?  Who the hell knows.

So anyway.  What with this overworked imagination and all, it
might be NICE if the universe would stop playing these mean
little tricks on me.  You hear me, Universe?  Kindly DISPENSE
with the MIND FUCKS.  I can fuck with my own mind perfectly
well, thanks.  


Know what the Universe did to me not too long ago?  Oh, let
me tell you.  Please.  El Dukay and I watched the Ring.  This
was...a poor idea.  Truly.  I really shouldn’t watch horror
movies.  I love them, in that stupidly indulgent way you love
something you damn well
know is going to hurt later on, but
that you can’t stop loving.   Like eating a whole pie.  In one
sitting.  This would be a good example of something that feels
so right, it just CAN’T be wrong, but then you realize that it
certainly, certainly was.  Wrong, that is.  Not that I have ever...
done that.  Anyway!

So we watched this movie, and I cursed out loud on several
occasions.  Like, becoming so alarmed that I began
screaming profanity at the television.  Because, I’m sorry.  It
fucking SCARED me.  I don't really know if the movie sucked,
and yeah, it was probably poorly made and box office drivel
and whatnot, but I DID NOT NOTICE this because I was too
busy having a HEART ATTACK and the bodies were GREEN
and FUCKED UP, PEOPLE, and then the bitch came OUT of
the TELEVISION, which is a PROBLEM because I happen to
have a television in MY OWN HOUSE.

And I couldn’t even articulate the fear this movie made me
experience.  It was just so...illogical.  Primal, even.  I couldn’t
explain it.  Even when a very, very famous person El Dukay
and I occasionally talk to (and who you would totally know and
be jealous of me if I told you who it was) asked me why the
movie scared me so bad, I had no response.  This was our
conversation:

Very, very famous person:       So, you guys saw The
                                              Ring?

Self:                                             Yes...oh.  Eeee.

Very, very famous person:       What did you think?

Self:                                             It...Scary.   To me.  Scared
                                             of.

Very, very famous person:       Really?   Why did it scare
                                             you so much?

Self:                                             Gah.  I don’t...GAH!  Scary!

Very, very famous person:       Riiiight.  But what,
                                             specifically, scared you?

Self:                                           GIRL COMES OUT OF TV.
                                            GIRL COMES OUT OF TV.
                                            OH MY
GOD THE GIRL
                                            
COMES OUT OF THE TV.


See, there’s just no logic there.  And I like to think of myself
as a fairly logical person.  But when scary things are involved,
my logic?  Gone.  Bye.  

Which brings me back to the Universe, which only likes to
provoke me, because apparently the Universe thinks that this
is fun.  So after we saw the Ring, which obviously scared me
into a pre-verbal state, or at least a state where I am
incapable of forming complete sentences, I was all alone at
home.  And there was a thunderstorm outside.  And I was
ALONE.  Did I mention this?  No one home.  Just me.  By
myself.  With no one else there.  

And I went into the basement for something, and THERE.  In
the middle of the hall.  Next to the TV room.  Was an
enormous puddle of water, just sitting on the stone floor.   

(People who have not seen the Ring!  You are not following
this entry at all!  Okay, there’s a...GAH.  Girl...! Comes out of
television...and there’s...horses, and...she...WATER ON THE
FLOOR BEFORE SHE KILLS YOU. WATER ON THE FLOOR
BEFORE SHE KILLS YOU.)

Anyway.  

Oh, I hear you.  “It’s obviously the rain,” you’re thinking.  
“Duh.”  Well, let me just clarify, then.  The water was sitting in
a perfectly formed puddle
in the middle of the floor.  Not
touching any walls, which were dry.  Not coming from the
ceiling, which was also dry.  Not coming from anywhere.  Just
THERE. In the ROOM.  With ME.

So who freaked out?  Oh, I freaked out.    I ran my ass
upstairs, I locked myself into a television-free room and
turned on the security system.  And called my Daddy.  
Hysterical.  I’m such a little girl.  Honestly.

As it turned out, the puddle was not from a murderous
television apparition, but rather a natural spring that
randomly, and without provocation, decided to be a spring in
our basement.  Up through the stone floor.  And which my
parents cursed repeatedly, because that meant they had to
spend a fortune having the place sealed and drained and
everything.  I think they would have preferred if it had been
the scary Ring girl.  Less expensive.  And ultimately, drier.

And this is not the only time the Universe has decided to
mess with me.  Hell, no.  There was also the time I decided to
watch the Amityville Horror.  Alone.  Because if you didn’t
already notice, I am a damned MORON.  

But it was a Sunday afternoon, and sunny, and it was on TBS
or something, so I figured that all the scary parts would be
kind of edited, and also, it’s sunny outside, and who gets
scared when it’s sunny?  Besides me, I mean?

So I watched it, and I was kind of, “meh, whatever,” about
most of the movie.  Then they got to the blood-fills-all-the-
sinks bit.  Ew, but not necessarily scary.  Boring, actually.  
Until I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Oh, you knew it was coming.  I turned on the faucet.  RED
WATER. RED, CHUNKY WATER.  

I screamed.  I ran from the room. I passed by the bathroom,
glancing in the toilet.  RED.  Filled with RED.

So, I bolted for the door.  Hysterical.  Until I made it outside,
and realized that it was neither (1) the ghosts from Amityville
spontaneously deciding to relocate to a warmer climate,
namely the one within my home, nor (2) the apocalypse, but
rather (3) the Georgia pipe and water people, who had just
accidentally busted open the sewer line to the street, causing
everyone’s sinks and toilets and bathtubs to fill with mud.  
Specifically, to fill with Georgia red clay.  Thank you, sewer
people!  Thank you, Universe!  Nice fucking timing!

I’m sure there’s more.  But it’s getting dark.  And I have to go
upstairs now and make sure that all the lights are on, and all
the doors are locked.  Before the Universe comes after me
again.  

I wonder if there’s anything good on TV?

The Universe
Attacks. And
Miss Doxie
Cries.

Home

About

New Tricks

Old Dogs

Speak!

My guard dogs.  Look at them, guarding me.  Don't fuck with
them.  Seriously, because they're sleeping.  You're
supposed to let sleeping dogs lie, you know.  

Special love box!

The following people are the
coolest.  For varying reasons.

Sarah B. protects others from
hot grease, but not hot water.

Lauren feeds her sister mud.  

Coleen only dates men with
golden eyes.

Allison knows where to find
rock stars

Hannah Beth has way more
willpower than I.

Amy's vices look like mine.

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People!  Do you know web design?  
Clearly, I do not.  If you have an excellent
idea about how Miss Doxie should look,
and if you know how to make Miss Doxie
look very excellent but still remain
usable for someone like myself who is
an idiot, please email me.  I can pay you
real money.   

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