Did you put the socket in your toolbox?
Did you put the socket in your toolbox?
Oh hell yes I did. Free tools is free tools. I have two that travel with me, and this one for sure. I actually have one that doesn't leave my torque wrench because I can never find the berkeleying things.
Was the bouncer wearing a skirt or trousers?
Jeans. She was ready to go. She looked like she knew how to kick some ass. But had glasses too. I liked it.
Dear readers, yours truly has an update worthy of scribing for you. Sit close, as I spin a tale, of woe, confusion, joy, heartache, and fixing a Toyota in a funeral home parking lot. In the ghetto. In the dark. In dress clothes.
When we last left our intrepid adventurer (me), I was sitting on the couch, not doing anything but going to work. Little did I know, the world saw fit to help me along with things. You see- as it turns out, germs are rather prevalent in a setting where there is a lot of people in close proximity to each other. And wouldn't you know it, Purel is not a thing they stock at a metal bar. So- I got a cold. Or a sinus something. I don't know. All I know for sure is my face doesn't berkeleying work. And while I'd consider losing an arm a minor inconvenience and I walked on a broken foot for 3 months before even getting it looked at, I am a whiny little bitch when it comes to colds. I dislike them greatly. I have gone through record breaking amounts of cold remedies in the last week. Pretty sure I'm on the FBI watchlist for smurfing by now. (Smurfing is what they call it when meth heads go and buy up all the sudafed all over the place). So- I have had little to no sleep since about...Thursday. The weekend in and of itself was fairly uneventful. I made some EXTREMELY off color jokes about my grandmothers death (Including one where I made mention that looking at my Facetube and seeing as I put it "that berkeleying gargoyles face" was not the thing I wanted to see first in the morning"). We all cope differently.
Monday rolls around. Wake time. This is going to be interesting. I am rolling into a funeral parlor with the worlds most active 3 year old, chasing a sinus something that will not stop, coming off a work shift, and high as a kite on sinus meds. Plus I hate this funeral parlor in particular because it is where both my father and my grandfather's wakes were held. My fathers was an open casket for some stupid reason- and he was killed in a motorcycle accident. And wasn't wearing a helmet. You can figure that out. But- There will be family there and I'm being a good family member. So I roll in and immediately am greeted by demon spawn, also known as Izzy. Izzy is my cousin Morgans' 16 and pregnant mistake. And unlike the show, she's not trailer trash, she's actually loaded. Well, her parents are. Her dad is. THERES MONEY. So- there is absolutely no consequence anywhere, and Izzy as a result is the most unruly little troll on the face of the earth. And because my child is 3, he immediately thinks- man she is FUN I wanna do what she's doing. So he wants to go tear-assing after her, I'm trying to slow him down, it's a funeral parlor, I'm high on meds, and mommy is still at work. There's a reason there was Jameson in my car. (Come to think of it, that's still in my car. I should probably take that out before I get searched.)
Mommy rolls in, and she is looking like death warmed over. She has a chronic kidney condition caused by a potassium imbalance that results in her producing a mass amount of kidney stones. She has episodes that can last months at a time where she just feels like E36 M3. This is one of those times. Fortunately she understands (sort of) the gravity of the matter, and is trying to man our little tornado to the best of her ability. I figure she's better equipped, she has boobs. Other family starts to arrive. I look at my phone. It's 3:30. I've been here for 30min. It goes til 8. berkeley.
As people trickle in and out, I bounce back and forth, between trying to get my child to slow down, to keeping him occupied, to trading with mommy, to simply keeping him out of the "viewing room". Thank christ in this case there wasn't a viewing persay. I can do a lot of things, but dead bodies is not one of those things. My dad's funeral sorta berkeleyed me on that one for life. No one should be forced to see the mis-shapen corpse of their only surviving parent in a box. But, there's an urn, and a lot of flowers, and pictures, and a video playing, and basically a LOT of crap for him to knock over. And the last thing I want him to do, even though I really didn't care for the woman- was to knock over the ashes and pull a meet the fockers. That's just gross. Having to explain "You just spilled Grandma all over you". Nope. I DID get the chance to talk to the rich uncle, who currently owns... a Mclaren MP124C spyder, an M6, a GL65 AMG, and an SVT Raptor. He told me the Raptor's getting a supercharger next week. Only 650whp. Says it's slow as is. Given what he owns, I am not surprised. Flew up here in his own plane. Told me that the turbos sucked in some ice and popped the impellers not too long ago. Didn't know planes could do that.
The rest of the event is rather...un-eventful. Jesse Venturas' wife Terry shows up (My grandmother is Terry's aunt) and his daughter Jade. Neat. Used to see them all the time at parties. Time winds down, and it's time to go. I'm beat, and I hurt. man was not meant to stand in stupid dress clothes all day. Wife says she's out, and goes to load kiddo in the car. This is about as much fun as wrestling a greased up pig in a barbed-wire pen. He is not going easily. Or quietly. I'm pretty sure if any of the neighbors spoke english or weren't worried bout CPS being on their asses too (we're in the hood, remember?) they'd have called the cops. FINALLY she gets him strapped in. Then she turns to me and says..... "Will you replace the headlight in my car?" DAMMMMMMMIIIIIIIIT. I can't say no to this. It's a safety issue. She had the bulb. But it's dark as hell, the lot isn't lit for squat, and she has as screaming kid in the car. This was probably not the best time to ask.
But I did it anyhow. I learned something. I learned that you have to move the entire heater fuse assembly off the core support to get at the passenger side headlight. I also learned that there was a rubber grommet. I FURTHER learned that there was a retaining clip for the bulb. Why did Toyota do this? Silly Toyota, screw in, screw out. Easy peasy!. But noooo. And of course, I'm trying to get my wife to be flashlight monkey, and she might as well been berkeleying a football as helpful as she was. She was trying to tend to the screaming kid at the same time, so I can't be too mad, but still, it was damned frustrating. I'm looking at her like, CAN YOU PICK A WORSE TIME TO ASK ABOUT THIS? As I am walking back to MY car to retrieve a 10mm (I travel with a 10mm, and a 17mm deep) I bump her. My cell phone goes flying. Hits the ground. I pick it up, it's still lit. I hand it to her, and go back to the car. Everyone else is completely oblivious to what's going on over in my little corner, or they're choosing to ignore it. Wise money is ignore, I am the master of chaos and E36 M3-storms.
ANYWAYS- Covered in grime (the Prizm had a catastrophic oil leak for a while, I'm pretty sure the engine bay qualifies as an environmental hazard) in dress clothes, in the dark, I get the headlight working. She hands my phone back to me. This is when I notice something is amiss. No, not amiss, terribly terribly wrong. There are cracks across the screen. I frantically swipe my lock pattern, to no avail. It is not accepting it. I try to do an emergency unlock, nothing. The screen, and therefore my entire phone, is toast.LG likes to use capacitative glass, meaning the touch circuitry is in the glass itself. Crack the glass, you have a shiny new paperweight. This is heart-breaking for a multitude of reasons. #1- this is the first cell phone I have ever broken. Ever. I have never in my life needed a warranty. #2- We had literally cancelled the insurance on it a week before, in anticipation of trading it for a new phone at the end of next month. I want a nexus 6. #3- She's already demolished her spare/old phone, and mine is MIA and a pile of junk anyhow, because HTC can't build a handset to save their asses. #4 We don't have a home phone. #5 I need it for work. Literally I cannot get in to my work building without it. So safe to say this is important.
So here I am, standing in a funeral home parking lot, in uncomfy dress clothes, covered in engine bay grime, in the ghetto, in the dark, with a broken cell phone. I decide I need to fix the cell phone problem. I grab some baby wipes from the wife, clean my palms off so I can at least drive my car without berkeleying it up too bad, and break several laws trying to get to Tmobile before it closes. Make it there in RECORD time. Walk in, and there's an Indian (eastern, not native) gentlemen in front of me. He's trying to get some POS tracfone to work, and the Tmo guy is about as useful as a box of used condoms. Apparently someone in his home had bricked the thing by screwing up the passwords, and he needs to un-brick it. Tmo guy eventually figures it out, and Indian guy still balks with the total fee is like 10 bucks. Two more of them get out of the car to ask if the damn thing is getting fixed- like this phone is their child or something. Finally, with them out of my car- I explain to Tmo guy my story. He says I can have a new phone when I A- pay off my old phone (I owe 40$ on it, NBD) and we get our bill figured out. Our bill is north of 400$ for some reason. I walked out of Tmo with no new phone.
Walked in the door, at home, defeated, exhausted, sick, covered in grease, with no phone. Explain to wife that need new phone ASAP. Search for old phones ensues. No old phones located. I decide it's a good time to clean myself up a bit. Grab some soap. Soap's not doing the deal. Upgrade to dish soap. A little better. Finally said berkeley it, went full boat and grabbed the dish scrubby and went to work. Wife was mad. Apparently the scrubby was new. Not anymore. Sit down, swallow many cold pills, eat, play GTA, pass out.
The next morning......
I wake up, feeling even worse. Been up all night with stomach problems. Not sure if it was the burger, or the meds. I won't go into details but I needed to do a lot of laundry. Today is funeral day! Wife is still feeling like arse. Says she needs to go to the kidney doc. I need to go to the funeral. We agree that she will take the child and meet up with me at the luncheon. Pour myself into a clean set of clothes, scrub my hands some more, some grease refuses to berkeley off. I say screw it, and claim it's a tribute to my late father, who was a machinist and all around grease monkey. Haul ass down to the VFW. See a Porsche Boxster with the plate UDTSEAL on it in the lot. Interesting, I feel like I know that. Walk inside, sure enough, former governor, wrestler, E36 M3starter extraordinaire Jesse Ventura has made an appearance. They're busy talking about guns or some crap. He's a pretty big dude in real life, not sure how he fits in that car. Eventually, food is brought out. Now, MN based people will know this, but MN funeral food is boring. Cold sandwiches, salads, and bars. There wasn't even jello at this one. I was smart enough to bring my own cokes, or the drinks would have been even worse. I grab a little salad, a roast beef sandwich, and sit down. Izzy the bratwich is there, but strangely, Gibson is not interested in her. There's some cool old pictures around, and I get to looking at them. Show my wife the one of the Halloween party that my birth interrupted. Everyone is huddled around my aunt Annette, who's married to the rich uncle with the Raptor. I've sorta decided I'm done with her, because she puts on way too many airs and I'm not buying into the ass kissing culture. Take a look at my phone (well, my wifes' phone) and it's... 11:30. The burial isn't til 3. berkeley ME.
You can see it in everyones' faces. No one wants to be here anymore. Everyone hates to admit to it, but no one liked her. My uncle Greg is the only one that will admit to it. Him and I are sitting there, and he says "I wish we could hurry this E36 M3 up". In a moment of I just don't care anymore I say "Well, I got a shovel, I know how to dig a hole. We can make this happen." He bursts out laughing. For the first time in this whole process, I've found a real bit of levity and relaxation, and someone who is on the same level of lack of berkeleys to give as I am. But then we start to look around. Other than a few basic family members, and one or two blue hairs from the retirement home, there's no one left at the luncheon. And in an unexpected, and heroic move, my aunt Marilyn (This is a large family) goes to work. Next thing you know, she actually has the burial moved UP! You can tell everyone is just done with this crap. So now, we only have to go until 2pm before her ashes are in the ground.
It was about this time that my wife decides her and Gibson aren't making the burial. I am a little sad because it's at the same site as my parents, but I totally get it because who wants to chase a kid through a graveyard. No one. After a short thinking session, I decide you know what, I'm done. I've paid my respects by not getting totally blasted and saying just how horrible I thought she was in front of everybody. So I bailed too. Said a couple good-byes, said screw waiting for anyone else- and jumped ship. I don't even remember driving home. I do remember getting here and having to turn around and go back to the library to return 600 frickin books for my kid- and the return system only logs one at a time... so I can't just leave a stack and bail.
Where does that leave me now? Well let me tell you dear readers. I have some cool old pictures. I have some pictures that frankly I wish didn't exist. I have my Volare on my mind- which makes 3 cars that I have that are not directly in front of me. (This one is at least in the same state.) I have taken some of my anti-crazy pills because I am just done, and I can handle no more shenanigans for the day. My wife and my child have located me a spare phone, for free! I can take my time in finding a new one that suits my interests. I like the idea of the LG G3, because damn that screen is pretty, but that whole capacitative glass thing is a real boner-killer. Probably still Nexus 6 if it's truly a Halloween release. I just finished watching Clerks (Salsa shark!). I have written another chapter in the tome that is my life. And I have a lego pirate ship. Until next time.....
[URL=http://smg.photobucket.com/user/mndsm/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2014-09/IMG_20140922_174029_zpsvhucisbu.jpg.html]
[/URL]
I also have these pictures. This is the vinyl work on my cousin heathers truck. I will let the plate speak for itself. Her husband is even weirder.
[URL=http://smg.photobucket.com/user/mndsm/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2014-09/IMG_20140922_190051_zpsgxrahkuc.jpg.html]
[/URL]
I can only imagine the conversations online with Powar. Bottle that E36 M3 up and make a podcast out of it.
Interesting. I'm religious; but, I can't stand those shiny happy people that always try to push religion. Like if I could throat punch them I would. It also sounds like you need to find the gym to vent and release some of the anxious nerves. The gym always calms me down.
DirtyBird222 wrote: Interesting. I'm religious; but, I can't stand those shiny happy people that always try to push religion. Like if I could throat punch them I would. It also sounds like you need to find the gym to vent and release some of the anxious nerves. The gym always calms me down.
And see, that's the rub. I have no problem with religion. I have no problem with religious people. I don't care one bit. But if you try to get some on me, we have problems. Just as I respect what you do whether or not I agree with it, I expect the same. I got tricked into a haunted house that snuck religion up on me once, but that's another story in and of itself.
I got some much needed, but probably inappropriate, laughs out of this thread. That Ram is probably going to keep me from sleeping tonight. It's not only strange and completely hideous, but I'm also just kind of confused by it.
That's what this thread is for my friend- the laughs. I challenge anyone to have the life I lead. I've been touched by the gods of "dude, you're gonna deal with some crap". I've also been touched by the gods of "You're going to find inappropriate stuff funny as hell" and "you're going to be able to tell a damn good story". Put em all together and we have a recipe for me being able to spin a yarn that everyone should be able to enjoy. I may just keep sharing random stories in here if there's an audience for it. I enjoy writing them, and I have plenty to go around. I feel like the haunted house one should be worth a laugh or two.
sure …bring um on ….
THE LEGEND OF THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF DOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Keep in mind, these are all true stories, and this crap all actually happens to me. I can't make this stuff up.
Many years ago dear readers, our intrepid adventurer discovered a love for haunted attractions, and the Halloween season in general. I actually got married on Halloween in 2008, as an example. I love me some haunted houses, horror movies, all that business. Anyhow, one halloween, this had to have been 1999 or so a new haunted attraction came to town. I forget the name of it now, but it was a one word name like "The Haunt" or something. The website (as most were in 1999) was very austere, and left much to the imagination. There was no review information on it, no pictures, no anything. All it said was- you had to be 18- no exceptions. You had to sign a release so they weren't responsible if you got injured. And that it was the most shocking thing on the planet. Boy they weren't kidding. But for reasons entirely different than I expected, and reasons that would become clear later in the evening.
With my haunt going friend Kim in tow, we made our way to the event. Tickets and queuing for the event were done more than a mile from the site. They took you to the warehouse it was in by bus. This meant there was no way out. That ratcheted up the whole fear factor a little bit, which made it more awesome. We were in for a helluva ride. One helluva ride indeed. The whole bus ride was silent. No one on the bus knew what they were in for.... or so I thought.
Upon arriving at the site, we were greeted by a person having us sign the release form for injury and stuff, and someone with a metal detector wand. They didn't want us to have weapons? COOL! That means this place is going to be SO SHOCKING, SO JARRING, AND SO MIND BENDINGLY SCARY that I may resort to trying to knife my way out of the joint (I don't think CCW's were easy in MN yet, so It'd have been easier to cut a bitch). The line for entering the event was uncomfortably quiet, and there was a certain heaviness in the air, as if were may very well be marching to our dooms. One of the things I noticed- there was no way to bitch out. There was no emergency exit. THERE WAS NO ESCAPE. This makes this thing pretty dang amazing already, and I've not even walked in the door! The anticipation was palpable.
Finally, we're escorted to the staging area. Our group is relatively small, I'd say about 10 or so. One thing I notice is- there's no clear view of any path ahead. Most haunts, you can sort of see where you're headed. This one, this is like being locked in a large closet. There's VERY little light. It's just you, and whoever's been unfortunate enough to be in your group with you. Suddenly through one door, bursts what appear to be either SWAT, or New Order drill instructors. They're yelling at everybody. I don't recall what they were saying, but the gist of it was "Do anything any we'll berkeleying kill you". Ok...... WTF are we in for here? Is there going to be a live witch burning? Are they going to vivisect a monkey for our amusement? Have they brought back public shaming and execution? (dun dun DUNNNN! Foreshadowing).
Once Drill Seargent York and his compadres are done giving us the business, we're shoved through a door- and this is where we get our first taste of action. Once again, it's very dark, lit barely, and only in red. I notice we're standing on a metal grate. I look down, and whatever's under us is BOILING. That was a pretty neat effect. Appeared to be sort of slick like oil or tar. Clearly, they've spent some effort making this work. Some sort of very old chanty type music plays, and a druid or something is lowered from the ceiling on a platform. No one can make out what the druid says, but clearly it's ominous. I'm not scared (I don't generally get scared at these things, I'm usually trying to work out the mechanics behind the effects) but I am genuinely entranced by this whole production. Someone somewhere has put a LOT of money behind this. You'd think a large group that had a lot of backing put this on......
FINALLY, we're escorted to the first real haunt scene. It's a bit odd. There's a good portion of a house (possibly one of those models they have at like home depot to show siding) some bushes, a phone pole, a Chevy Beretta wrapped around the phone pole (yes, there's a full size car here) and snow all over the place. Fake snow. Yeah, it's MN, but it's not THAT cold yet. There's a couple dead bodies, one on the ground, one laying sort of out of the car. Lots of blood. Barely noticeable is some beer cans laying on the ground......
TO BE CONTINUED.
Where were we? Oh yes- the car accident.
So there's beer cans on the ground. I'm sitting here trying to process what i'm seeing. This is in no way, shape or form like any haunted attraction scene I've ever witnessed, but I have to admit, the production value is phenomenal. I'd never seen them stage an entire car like that for one scene before, and only seen a haunt use a car once before period, and that was for one small gag. Color me impressed! While I'm looking around at all of this an ominous voice (Noticing a theme here?) says something, and we're "escorted" to the next scene.
This one, wow. It's right around the corner from the first one, and it actually uses a part of the same house. It's snowy, and quiet. Appears to be the holidays. You're looking through a window into a typical suburban living room. On the TV plays the news? (I'm not 100% on this) or something to that effect. You see A girl, in her teens, in a rocking chair. She's in a nightgown. And suddenly..... the back of her head blows the berkeley off and the window is covered in blood. Clearly she's just punched a slug through her cerebral cortex. I'm aghast at this- this is a death tactic I've ever seen before. And there is a LOT of blood. Like (and this is a measurement I made up to describe how hungry I was) a Costco amount of blood. If they do this every 10 minutes all night every weekend... holy E36 M3. Just what the hell are these people on? I mean, these are some wicked death scenes, but man..... As I'm trying to figure out what the heck I just saw, and looking at Kim for answers (she's as confused as I am) we're quickly hustled off to the next room......
And immediately we're thrown against a wall by "gangbangers". They've done a good bit a research, because these are some quality looking cholos here. They're yelling and screaming at us, buncha gangbanger nonsense, when another group of bangers rolls up in a car. A fully working Caddy.... Eldorado IIRC. They hop out and we're treated to a near Hollywood level gun battle. EVERYONE DIES. There's the smell of gun powder in the air, blood everywhere, bodies strewn around, the whole bit. One cholo from gang A is left standing, and he starts boasting or some such nonsense.... and a not yet seen banger from gang B pops out and gives him the ol' sawed off to the chest routine. banger A's chest ACTUALLY BLOWS A HOLE IN IT and he flies back, dead. The overvoice plays, and we're shuffled off to the next area. I'm beginning to be a bit scared. Seriously. WTF is going on here, and WHY is that voice talking to me?
The next room... wow. I have no words. I just..... you know when you see something and you're just like "berkeley it, I'm out"? Yeah. That's where I was when I saw this. The scene is a crack house, or...room. It's probably 300sf or so, so decent sized. There's various dirty denizens and ne'er do wells in the joint, obviously all hepped up on goofballs. Trash, used needles, booze cans, live rats, dirty mattresses, the whole bit. I mean, this is a pretty well done flop house... but there's one particular person... Oh man. I just... goddamn. They've got a teenage girl, probably 15. She's obviously "pregnant". Well...she was. Or..is? I'm not really sure. She's lying on the floor, screaming. Legs akimbo. She has pants on so you can't see the goods- but she is very obviously bleeding profusely from her vaginal area and appears to be mid-miscarriage. What in the holy berkeley have I gotten myself into. It's about this time I am seriously beginning to fear for my safety. I mean I know this stuff is fake, but this is WAAAAAY outside the realm of stuff mndsm (or tom if you're not into the whole brevity thing) can handle.
And then it gets worse.
So obviously scared out of my mind, myself and Kim (who has this look of having just seen all of the killings at Auschwitz, at the same time) and the rest of our group are shoved off into... a cage. A CAGE. A...CAAAAAGE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? We're screwed. I'm gonna die. I'd have texted my loved ones if I had a cell phone and texted. There's just no possibility that what comes next will end with my survival. I'm next weeks soylent green. The cage lurches forward, and we're dragged to what must assuredly be a meat grinder. We're cattle on the way to slaughter. But for some reason- no one else is as scared.......
This next room is where things start to go off the deep end, for realsies. The cage rolls into what can only be described as a pit. Of..hell perhaps? And wouldn't you know it, all of our previous cast members are there. Drunk driver, suicide girl, abortion chick, the works. They're all in cages, pleading for help. Reaching out for the cage. WHY ARE WE IN THIS CAGE. I feel like a circus animal. The ominous voice finally reveals itself, and it's a....puppetmaster. Or perhaps a ringmaster. I'm not really sure. He/she has some sorta clowny makeup on reminiscent of the Crow, and a top hat. That's about what I remember- I'm too focused on getting out of this damned cage. A cage....of the damned? (yeah, ok I'm laying it on a bit thick here)
Finally the cage grinds to a halt. We're forced out, and into a very small room. The room is sparse, to say the least- it doesn't have a damn thing in it. A bit of music plays, and a sliding door opens, about chest height. There's some remains in there, wrapped in a shroud. A voice says something, but I don't care at this point. I want to get the berkeley out of dodge. I'm done. I'm scared. You guys win. (Cue Billy Mays voice ) BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!
The next room, this is where it gets weird. Ok I probably said this before, but this time I mean it. Because this room isn't haunted at all. At least not in the conventional sense. We first stop at a TV. Big ol rear projection number. Some dude on the screen with a shiny white smile lookin' all friendly like is talking. I can't quite make out what he's saying, but it's clearly not anything haunted housey. And he is clearly not the Ringmaster dude from before. He's some other entity entirely. Who is this man? Why is he a giant talking head on the TV? He looks suspiciously familiar though. I swear I've seen his face before. I have faith that i'll figure it out.
The second to last room is where things start to click. We're greeted with a church scene. Looks to be a Catholic church from the staging of it. Wooden pews, disinterested youth, sparse population, the works. Up at the altar, there is a priest of some sort- his vestments absolutely covered in blood and gore. Like we're talking Gwar would be proud here. And what is this priest doing might you ask? Oh nothing just..... WHIPPING THE EVERLOVING PISS OUT OF JESUS TIED TO A CROSS. Yep. This priest is pulling a The Passion a good 7 years before wackadoo Mel did it on the big screen. And it's live, right in front of us. I've never seen this much fake blood anywhere. And this priest is just WORKING this dude. And the dude is real. I'm trying to figure out how he isn't dead. However, I will have no time for this.....
Onto the final scene. It's another TV. The talking head is back, this time with a talking female head. NOW I REMEMBER. These two shining examples of family life are on a billboard right next to Circuit City! (remember that place?)And that billboard, what could it POSSIBLY advertise? A dentist? Family services? A car dealership? No no no no no. We're dealing with something faaaar worse.
It was the local revival church. Yep. I've just paid 25$ and wasted an hour of my life to.... see a scare tactic about going to church. They've staged this entire thing for todays disenchanted youth as a measure to get them to play right, not do drugs, and be down with Jesus. It all makes sense. THAT'S why all these scenes are like this! It's all the various sins you can commit! And that final scene? Yeah... that's a clear jab at conventional church, in how that it's become boring and the message of God has become lost. I found the analog to Catholic Church (I was born and raised catholic) VERY clear. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I've been had. All that buildup, all the effort into the effects, all that time, and it's a damn church. And as if THAT wasn't enough, they had one last knife to stick in me...
They wanted me to pray with them. Now again, I've got no problem with religion. But when you spend nearly an hour forcing a shock message on me, pull a bait and switch, and then expect me to get down with G-O-D? No sir. I politely declined (several times) and made my way quickly as humanly possible to the bus. The ride back, and the ride home, was in complete silence. It wasn't until the next day where I could finally ask "What the berkeley just happened?" To this day, I fear that I'll be ambushed by prayer people. And just the other day, I was... but you read that already.
EPILOGUE-
The haunt no longer operates in MN to my knowledge. HOWEVER- it appears to be a national attraction, or there's several clones of it, especially in the bible belt. I've run into a few people that have gone to it that had the same experience that I did, and they were just as shocked and appalled as I was.
http://nightmaretulsa.com/#home
That's a link to the Tulsa one. There's pictures and things out there of it, look at your own risk. I can't do it, the psych doc warns me of exposure causing PTSD.
After a word from our sponsor. BullE36 M3. I want the cake. I want it now.
Appleseed wrote: After a word from our sponsor. BullE36 M3. I want the cake. I want it now.
Rest of the story is up. Enjoy. I'm gonna go cry now.
That oddly reminds me of a time I went to go look at a Subaru Outback at a dealership.
Haha definitely a twist ending.
GameboyRMH wrote: Haha definitely a twist ending.
Yeah, let me tell you, with technology what it was back then, there was no way to tell what I was in for when we went. NOWADAYS I could figure it out easily enough. I mean, the Tulsa one has a Jesus crucified right on it, and there's reviews and videos on youtube and all sorts of stuff. But there was nothing that could have prepared, or warned me back then, and by the time I figured it all out, it was waaaaay too late.
Nixon- HOW does this remind you of test driving a Subaru?
Oh, I need to drink first before I can even begin to write this one.
You're in the land of beer. Get to drinkin' foo- I need this story.
Almost done!
Hooray!
I posted it in a separate thread, as to not derail yours.
I saw, and I am appreciative. What's really funny is I almost traded the prizm in the LAST story, to the guy I bought it from, who was the guy I sold it to (So that would make it twice each that we've owned it) for a Subaru Outback Wagon- rusty but with a new bottom end and rebuilt heads. Wife doesn't like the MPGs or the fact that it makes her look like a lesbian...... nor does it help that her lesbian cousin and her wife just bought...a Subaru Outback wagon. But then I remembered I swore I should have never sold the car in the first place, and I sure as hell shouldn't do it a second time.
You'll need to log in to post.
