It’s that time of year again. The time when I disappear from most social functions, don’t add a lot to the Hell Bus, and (according to my beloved spouse) become very difficult to live with. (Spouse, you have my undying love and devotion for putting up with me these past couple of months.)
As much as I love this volunteer job of mine, it does take its toll every year. I love the feeling of oncoming autumn, the cool days, the smell of wood and paint as we construct yet another floor plan and new sets. I love seeing the old veterans returning with just as much (or even more) enthusiasm for this business we call scare. I love the rush of Friday and Saturday nights when we have a huge line of people waiting to get their chance to be scared shitless or at least come out laughing. Either way, we’ve done our job. We entertained them.
But every year I return with a little more grey sprouting outta my skull. I worry about stuff way too much. Sometimes I set goals a little too high. And do I ever get stressed out. I go beyond the snapping point at least 5 times from June to November. Just ask the spouse or any of my friends about some of my outbursts.
And, as usual, I’ve had some let downs. I expect it every year. There’s always one person, one manufacturer, one incident or one state official who manages to fail us miserably. Some years it’s been one of each. This year it’s been a few of some, none of the other.
So yes, I’ve already had one good snap. One good primal screaming session. I just had to get it out before something physical popped.
But that was a couple days ago. Right now I’m fine. In moments of complete and utter breakdown I keep remembering the words of my predecessor and mentor (the guy who used to run the place before me):
“The House will run. No matter what happens. The House will open and run itself. The customers won’t know about all the bullshit you’ve put up with until this point. They won’t know how many people have bailed and left you hanging. They won’t know about the props that never arrived, got built or are already broken. You just put on your best make-up and give them the best show you can and they won’t know the difference.”
I also always have Plan B in the back of my skull. Every room in that house has a Plan B. Every prop that fails, every actor that quits, every promise made that goes unfulfilled... Plan B is filed away in the cabinet down the hall in the dusty corner of my brain. I have a back-up plan for everything.
Plus I have some absolutely amazing people who have gone way beyond the call of duty. My Artistic Director has taken time off from his real job and worked odd hours late at night on the house. This mad genius of a man has built some wildly freakish things for us that our little brains could never has conceived. Things that would cost thousands of dollars, this man made for a few hundred, sometimes even less.
Several of my veterans (D, M, L and E) have been there with me every single Thursday night, putting up with the heat, the dust, the filth and the 100lb+ props getting moved from room to room. Bless their little cobwebbed hearts. I love these people. My little worker bees.
And the staff has been good. My one special staff girl (you know who you are) has been wonderful at keeping my mood elevated and talking me thru all the shitty stuff.
So now we’re down to the final week and a half before we open. There’s still stuff to do but every time I walk thru that house, I’m really impressed at how much has been accomplished. Who knows, we might be finished with this thing before we open!
(Some of you have been asking about photos. Friends and neighbors, they’re already up.)
Last night I was leaving the Mansion's downstairs office via the Gift Shop and, as I exited the door, just happened to look up.
In the seven years I've been there, I've never looked in this one particular spot.
Directly over the door is a wood sign hanging by a metal chain at each corner that reads "Culbertson Mansion Dry Goods Gift Shop." When I looked up, I was looking at the back of that sign.
And I saw something furry. Very furry.
I thought, "What the hell is that? Is that some sort of cocoon? Is it a large Woolly Worm?" And that's when I noticed the little toes...
...hanging on the top edge of the sign.
I'm amazed he's been there that long. Especially with all the traffic and noise that occurs underneath that sign every day.
Oh well, he's cute. I hope he stays. Perhaps he's a good omen for this season.
I love the internet. I say that at least once a day. You can find anything and everything on the internet.
I’m constantly amazed at the number of people who have no clue how to access it, use it or even what they could find on it. The people I work with are a fine example. I’ve become the great and powerful know-it-all Internet Guru at work because nobody there knows how to search for things. As omnipresent as Google is, the majority of people I work with don’t know how to use it.
Case #1: Storm a-Brewin’ A: Dag, those clouds sure do look awful dark. Duranfan, what’s our weather look like? Me: (I go here and report whatever I see). A: Ok, thanks.
Case #2: Can’t get that song out of my head B: You know that song from the Geico commercial? The one with the caveman in the airport? Who does that song? Me: (Google: Type in “lyrics there is always something to remind me of another place and time”) The song is called “Remind Me” by a group called Royksopp. B: Cool. I need to get that off iTunes
Case #3: The Urban Legend C: (email received) “UPS uniforms have been stolen by terrorists!” followed by a message intended to scare the living shit out of you. Me: (in a reply) No, they haven’t. It’s an internet hoax. Go here are read for yourself.
(I’ve discovered if it’s too good or too horrific to be true, it probably isn’t. Go to snopes and look it up.)
This shit happens nearly every day. But I don’t use the Internet just to find out weird facts. I also use it for what many of our double-X chromosome population loves to do. I use it to shop.
Amazon is a favorite of mine and the spouse’s. Between the two of us, I don’t know who spends more money on books, music and movies.
I found my wedding dress here. I find all kinds of cool things from Japan here. I found some really funny and very offensive t-shirts here and here. And I found some wonderful perfume here. And socks! I love socks! I found a bunch of wacky socks here.
I also get a metric fuck-ton of catalogs, all of which has a website. So when I got the most recent What On Earth catalog and saw these, I had to hit their website and order. While I was there, I was browsing thru their clearance section and came across this.
Oh wow! Look at it! It matches our bathroom! It’s blue and transparent and it has shells and starfish and coral in it! And it lights up! Holy shit! I must have this!
So they came in two days ago. The wings are adorable. And it even came with a nose! A plush, black nose that your wire to your grill. This fall my little mom-wagon will be transformed into the BATFOCUS, serving as a moving advertisement for the Haunted House (we have magnetic door panel ads I’ll be sticking on the sides of the car).
And the toilet lid? Amazing. My friend Nicograph dubbed it the Disco Shitter. It was a bitch and a half to install (who knew changing a toilet lid would be so damn tough) but wow... it’s purdy. It’s blue and all lit up and sparkly and everything. It lights up the whole bathroom. So now, when we get those middle-of-the-night piss urges, we won’t get blinded by turning on the main light. Now we simply lift the lid and ta-da! Disco Shitter!
First off, does anyone know where I can find these? I’ve been hearing about them for a while and I’ve been all jonsin’ to try one.
I know a lot of people are gonna be thinking, “Peanut butter and banana?! Yuck!” Not so, uneducated one. Peanut butter and ‘nana is damn tasty. Maybe not in Elvis’s favorite sandwich form, but still, nothing beats a fresh banana sliced in half and filled with creamy peanut butter.
And yes, I said creamy. Crunchy is ok, but give me creamy any day. Ya know, way back in my single, lonely and bitter days, when I actually tried out the whole on-line dating thing, that was one of my conversation openers: Peanut butter: creamy or crunchy?
But back to the topic. Peanut butter, yes. One of the greatest snack foods ever. As a kid I lived on peanut butter. On toast. With jelly in sandwich form. On crackers. With bananas. With honey (also know as Honey Bunkin among us hillbilly types). Sometimes even just a heaping tablespoon of the stuff all by itself. And of course, with chocolate.
“You got peanut butter in my chocolate! Hey, you got chocolate in my peanut butter!” Yes, now shut up and eat it. It’s good. Really good. Chocolate and peanut butter is one of the best PMS food combinations ever. What a great comfort food. I can’t tell you how many times a large bar of Hershey’s Special Dark and a jar of Reese’s returned me to sanity after a job loss, a break-up or a bad bout of cramps.
(Another great yet weird snack food combo is M&Ms and Cheeze Whiz. Try it sometime and tell me what you think.)
Speaking of PMS food, I discovered another wonderful treat this weekend. The spouse and I were running around Saturday and decided to stop at a Popcorn Station on the way home. I’ve driven by this place nearly every day and have been wanting to go in and grab something. And am I ever glad we did. For behold! I have discovered perhaps the greatest snacky food since the afore mentioned peanut butter and chocolate...
Chocolate. Cherry. Popcorn.
No shit. And all you people making yucky sounds, shut the hell up. You haven’t tried it yet. Popcorn that’s been candy-coated in a nice sugary, cherry-flavor substance, then drizzled with chocolate. Honey, it don’t get no better than this.
Or maybe I shouldn’t say that yet. I gotta try the Elvis Peanut Butter and ‘Nana Reese’s Cup first. Now I just gotta find one.
Last night I was watching reruns of Ghost Hunters while the spouse was doing his Tae Quan Do thing. And, as with many nighttime TV watching ventures, a snack is present. Sometimes it’s popcorn, or cheese and crackers (love me some Brie), or maybe ice cream. But last night’s choice was chips and salsa. And not just any old ordinary salsa, but some super, duper, burn-your-face-off salsa.
The above reference is commonly known as “foreshadowing.”
This particular salsa is so hot that I have to dilute it with boring old store-bought stuff. Even for a pepper-head like me, I can’t take it straight.
So I had finished my snacky-poo and was in the process of cleaning up. From here on out, I’m going to slow everything down so you, too, can fully appreciate the trauma that is about to unfurl.
I had scooped up my dishes, the bag of chips and the jar of referenced salsa when the lid of the jar came loose. I thought I had tightened the lid but apparently had not done such a good job.
I was aware of the jar coming loose and I saw it falling toward our nice, light taupe carpet. In an effort to stop the eminent catastrophe, I dove down in an attempt to catch the open, plummeting jar (you can just see this in 'bullet-time,' can't ya?)
But being not as young and spry as I once was, I was not quick enough and the jar hit the carpeted floor. And it hit at such as angle that the salsa did not go sideways and spill, but rather flung straight up.
Straight up. Like a perfect 90 degrees straight up. Into my eyes.
Into my eyes.
My eyes.
MY EYES!
I actually saw the chunks of salsa as they zoomed towards me. And, once again, not being super-human fast, I was unable to shut my eyes in time. I felt the coolness of the tomatoey, gelatin-like substance flood my face. And before the pain even started I knew I was doomed.
I dropped whatever remained in my hands and ran for the bathroom, yelling the whole time. Please note: At this point the pain has still not started yet, but I'm yelling because I know what's coming. I grabbed a bath towel, went to the sink, turned on the water and started splashing. That’s when the pain started.
Pain. Oh pain. Pain pain pain.
I’m soaking my face in water, splashing like crazy. I have to get my contacts out but I can’t even open my eyes. I’m also sobbing and yelping.
Speeding things back up to real time, this went on for about 5 minutes. The pain is so bad I can no longer stand and am now on my knees, still with my hands and head in the sink, trying desperately to open my eyes and get my lenses out. During all of this violent washing of the water my right lens has already escaped. Whether it got stuck to a towel, landed on the floor or went down the sink, I don’t know.
All this time I’m thinking, “Is this an emergency? Do I need to call 911? Dan won’t be home for another hour. What the hell should I do? The water isn’t working fast enough. What else can I throw at my eyes to make the pain stop? Am I going to have damage to my eyes now? Will I wake up tomorrow with my eyelids glued together and my eyeballs seared and blind?”
I was finally able to open my eyes, but only for about one second at a time. The pain is worse when air hits my eyes. Finally, after an additional 5 or so minutes, I was able to get the left lens out. Not that it matters. Those poor bastards are toast as far as I’m concerned (thank the gods for disposable lenses).
My poor eyes are beyond red. And swollen. And I can only keep them open for a few seconds at a time. But, after several more minutes (if you’re keeping track, it’s been about 15 total) I was able to put on my glasses and venture back to the living room and inspect the damage.
Which, strangely enough, wasn’t that bad. The splattering was in one small area and, after some vacuuming, application of stain remover, some more vacuuming, and then a good sessions with the rug shampooer, you’d never know the accident had occurred.
Greeting the spouse an hour later and relaying the story was fun. He was very comforting and helped tremendously with the rug shampooer.
And as of today, you’d never know the Great Salsa Disaster ever occurred. The carpet is perfectly clean and my eyes are no longer red or swollen (although the skin on my arm that got a lot of the splatter is still a little tingly).
Well, after seven years, I finally got to experience something kinda spooky at the Mansion. It’s not much, but it’s a great story...
I’ve been hanging out at the Culbertson Mansion now since 2000, mostly doing Haunted House stuff, but in the more recent years I’ve been helping out with other events. I’ve come to really enjoy my time over there. I love all the people involved and I love that house.
With any old house come the obligatory ‘hauntings.’ Whether the house is really haunted or not I couldn’t say, Until last week, I was of the mind it wasn’t. I never felt any presence anywhere in that house (although the 3rd floor creeps me out - that’s only because it’s the only part that’s not restored yet). Hell, I’ve even slept in the Mansion for a few hours (in the master bedroom no less) and nothing happened.
Being a huge fan of Ghost Hunters and other paranormal shows, books and whatnot, I’ve been really hoping to see or experience something during my time roaming the enormous place. But nothing so far... until last Thursday.
Thursday nights are Work Nights for the Haunted House this year. Every Thursday after work I head across the river to New Albany, gather my little volunteer worker bees together and assign them projects, from moving props to painting, construction to set design.
Last Thursday around 4:30 I was down in the basement office, sitting with the Assistant Curator, Jamie, going over the Haunted House ‘To-Do’ list and new floorplan when...
WHOOP WHOOP!!! WHOOP WHOOP!!!
I’ve never seen that girl move that fast. She was up in a nanosecond, running for a cabinet, flinging it open to reveal a Fire Alarm System. We both watched the monitor as the warning scrolled across:
“ALARM PULL... 1ST FLOOR... FORMAL PARLOR...”
Alarm pull? Oh, shit! Someone pulled the fire alarm! Jamie did about 90mph running up the stairs to the Formal Parlor. A couple of minutes later she came back downstairs, puzzled.
“Well, that monitor says we have an alarm that’s been pulled, but the alarm in the Formal Parlor hasn’t been touched. Nobody pulled it. And the only other people in the House right now are a tour group on the third floor... Old Corny, she’s at it again”
(Cornelia was one of two wives to live the Mansion and is reputed to be the culprit of the strange goings-on.)
Jamie continued, “That’s the third thing to happen this week. Couple days ago the bell on the Gift Shop door rang but the door never opened and there wasn’t anyone outside trying to get in. Yesterday morning we heard someone walking around upstairs and the house was empty except for us in the office.”
(Seems that when strange stuff happens at the Mansion, it all happens at once, then everything goes quiet for weeks or even months.)
Ok, so it wasn’t a GREAT ghost story, but it was pretty damn exciting when it happened... although it wasn’t nearly as thrilling as my experience with ‘Stoney,’ but that’s another story. If yall are nice, I might repost it sometime...
I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of thoughts right now. My spare time has been balanced between devouring books and Haunted House construction (yes, I know it's only July but we've been tearing down and building up now for over a month).
But I still have some juicy tidbits of web goodness to share. Hope yall have the time, most of these are videos...
Another great time-killing game... but this one actually improves your typing skills.
Attention Clan Geek Members! I expect to see one of these on each of your respective doorsteps this October.
What do you get when you cross ICanHasCheezburger and Gorey? This.
Yeah, it'll leave a stain, but this is still damn funny.
You won't be seeing these in the U.S. anytime soon... #3 is my fav.
Ok, a little history. Way back in the day, there was a show on USA Network called Night Flight. This amazing program ran from about 10pm to about 3 or 4am, Friday and Saturday nights. They showed everything from old horror movies to music videos, short animations to film outtakes, interviews with famous people and other oddball eye candy.
I saw this film back in the mid 80s, sandwiched between a heavily edited Andy Warhol's Flesh for Frankenstein and Blood for Dracula. I was blown away. I was lucky enough to capture it on VHS and since then, have shown it to dozens of people. Not having the hardware or technology to convert it to digital format, I've been waiting not-so-patiently for this to pop up on the web. Fortunately, some wonderful sould has done just that.
I now present "The Contraption." (Trivia: See if you can guess who 'the man' is.)
One final video... the spouse recently discovered iMovie and spent ALL DAY Saturday composing this little number. Be gentle, it's his first real film.
It’s that time of year again. The time when I disappear from most social functions, don’t add a lot to the Hell Bus, and (according to my beloved spouse) become very difficult to live with. (Spouse, you have my undying love and devotion for putting up with me these past couple of months.)
