Let it be said up front that I don't do scary. I love surprises and roller coasters, but I'm a total wimp when it comes to traditionally-scary stuff like blood and scary movies. I'm so much of a wimp that I a) can't even look at someone else's paper cut and b)had to stop watching Ghost Rider in the first ten minutes.
But it happened the the first-ever haunted house on campus took place in the boy's dorm, and Lee-sister needed someone to go with because she had friends who were taking part. It took place in the boys' dorm, you had had to go into the suites of rooms, then back out again. At some points it might have been the intention that you were so scared you would run out. I'm not entirely sure.
*Silent creepy man points into first suite*
Me: Lee, I can't see. Can you see?
Lee: I think that's the point.
Girl in creepy makeup: *Silently walks right into me trying to stare me down
Me: Nice mascara.
Girl: *Looks askance*
Girl in next suite: SCREEEEEAAAAAAM
Lee and Me: Our ears are bleeding, if that was your goal.
Strobe light: FLICKER FLICKER FLICKER FLICKER FLICKER
Guide to next floor carrying lamp: *Walks quickly*
Me: There is a real fear that I will slip and kill myself because I cannot see the stairs anymore, Mr. Quickfeet. Do you want another exhibit, huh? Do you?
Fake blood on the closed-in maze walls that is not dry: We like your fancy coat!
Me: Crap.
Man with chainsaw: *chases*
Lee and Me: *walks*
Man with chainsaw: Man, they weren't even scared.
Chainsaw Man gave up after ten feet of rrrrrwwwwww-ing two inches from our backs, and his comment made everything worth it.
It was a well-put-together event, and I'm pretty sure that people who have normal brains reacted the way they were supposed to because I heard a lot of screaming and giggling and at least once group just screamed and ran down the hallway without even getting to the parts where they actually try to scare you.
And that's how I learned that Kayt > haunted houses.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
How I Almost Blew Up My Car, But Not Really
Technically, I didn't have a "first car," in the sense that the Roadrunner belonged to my parents and was mainly designated the "college car"--i.e., for use by the children in college. On the other hand, I was the only kid in college, and watching my sister drive it when I was home on breaks was an exercise in self-restraint because my precious is in the hands of another.
The Roadrunner, so named because of its pathetically wimpy "meep meep"-sounding horn, was a 2002 Toyota Corolla. Prior to its acquisition, I was of the strong opinion that I would prefer to drive a minivan (which I learned to drive in) for the rest of my life. That went out the window when I discovered the tighter turn radius made a three-point turn into no more than two points.
The Roadrunner was awesome. My school was an 11-hour drive from home, more than 1300 miles round-trip, and I could get nearly 40 mpg on the freeway for most of that. Gas milage, quickness, room for friends...it had only one downside: it ate oil faster than college students eat, well, anything. It didn't leak, but I was having to put in two quarts a month, at least, and made sure I did about a week or so before one of the breaks my freshman year.
Something that doesn't seem related, but really is: I can be very forgetful. For most things, I keep a planner and so life doesn't generally go awry, because the planner keeps track of definite things AND things that are only a possibility AND how to do everything associated with them.
So it's once again time to trek home. Over 600 miles, but I make it. The car is used for normal around-town trips, and it's several days later that I notice it's starting to smell funky. Dangerously funky, in a burned kind of way. I'm afraid that driving five miles from the craft store will be time enough for the engine to blow up and kill me.
Ready to duck and cover if this somehow sets off an explosion, I open the hood.
And discover the oil cap sitting on top of the engine while everything surrounding it is covered in a fine layer of black.
I've been driving around for two weeks without a cap on the oil.
Despite the fact that ten more minutes driving home will probably not do that much more harm, all things considered (re: 11-hour drive home), this calls for a minor freak out in the craft store parking lot the involves lots and lots of paper towels from the store's bathroom and calling my dad on the phone, because dads fix everything.
When I was reassured that so long as the car had enough oil (it did, though it ate it like a speed demon soon after) and I'd cleaned up what I could (there were not enough paper towels in the world), then the smell would linger but it was just the excess oil burning off and was harmless. Yes, harmless. Yes, that means no harm. It's safe to drive and will absolutely not blow up, Kayto, you are fine and stop being a wimp.
And that's when I started checking every gauge on my car obsessively forever after.
The moral of the story is obvious: even if your car is awesome, it will still find ways to mess with you because cars are like cats that way. They even start with the same two letters.
Also like some cats, the Roadrunner came to an untimely, crunchy end, but that's a different story.
The Roadrunner, so named because of its pathetically wimpy "meep meep"-sounding horn, was a 2002 Toyota Corolla. Prior to its acquisition, I was of the strong opinion that I would prefer to drive a minivan (which I learned to drive in) for the rest of my life. That went out the window when I discovered the tighter turn radius made a three-point turn into no more than two points.
The Roadrunner was awesome. My school was an 11-hour drive from home, more than 1300 miles round-trip, and I could get nearly 40 mpg on the freeway for most of that. Gas milage, quickness, room for friends...it had only one downside: it ate oil faster than college students eat, well, anything. It didn't leak, but I was having to put in two quarts a month, at least, and made sure I did about a week or so before one of the breaks my freshman year.
So it's once again time to trek home. Over 600 miles, but I make it. The car is used for normal around-town trips, and it's several days later that I notice it's starting to smell funky. Dangerously funky, in a burned kind of way. I'm afraid that driving five miles from the craft store will be time enough for the engine to blow up and kill me.
Ready to duck and cover if this somehow sets off an explosion, I open the hood.
And discover the oil cap sitting on top of the engine while everything surrounding it is covered in a fine layer of black.
I've been driving around for two weeks without a cap on the oil.
Despite the fact that ten more minutes driving home will probably not do that much more harm, all things considered (re: 11-hour drive home), this calls for a minor freak out in the craft store parking lot the involves lots and lots of paper towels from the store's bathroom and calling my dad on the phone, because dads fix everything.
When I was reassured that so long as the car had enough oil (it did, though it ate it like a speed demon soon after) and I'd cleaned up what I could (there were not enough paper towels in the world), then the smell would linger but it was just the excess oil burning off and was harmless. Yes, harmless. Yes, that means no harm. It's safe to drive and will absolutely not blow up, Kayto, you are fine and stop being a wimp.
And that's when I started checking every gauge on my car obsessively forever after.
The moral of the story is obvious: even if your car is awesome, it will still find ways to mess with you because cars are like cats that way. They even start with the same two letters.
Also like some cats, the Roadrunner came to an untimely, crunchy end, but that's a different story.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Is this the real life?
♫ Is this just fantasy? Too much homework to escape from realityyyy. ♪
And that's why, in a nutshell, I completely disappeared for a couple weeks. For the week and a half before my fall break, I had something due every day, and a couple things sprung on me at the last second (note to professors: assigning four essays two days before they're due is not going to garner you the best-written results, especially if it's midterm season. Just sayin').
Luckily that's over now so I can continue to furnish you with videos made by people of questionable sanity because it's time for Friday Ephemera!
Sit through the entire thing. I promise it's worth it.
And then you have two variations of the same thing:
Personally, the second is my favorite, because nothing can beat the sight of "pikachu" riding the "pidgey" near the end.
It wasn't intentional, but these all ended up being about Pokemon, which admittedly has some epic (interpret as you will) fan videos. Are there any I've missed?
And that's why, in a nutshell, I completely disappeared for a couple weeks. For the week and a half before my fall break, I had something due every day, and a couple things sprung on me at the last second (note to professors: assigning four essays two days before they're due is not going to garner you the best-written results, especially if it's midterm season. Just sayin').
Luckily that's over now so I can continue to furnish you with videos made by people of questionable sanity because it's time for Friday Ephemera!
Sit through the entire thing. I promise it's worth it.
And then you have two variations of the same thing:
Personally, the second is my favorite, because nothing can beat the sight of "pikachu" riding the "pidgey" near the end.
It wasn't intentional, but these all ended up being about Pokemon, which admittedly has some epic (interpret as you will) fan videos. Are there any I've missed?
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