Yeah I’m one of those…

I don’t believe the people that say they aren’t afraid of death. The same people who claim to be OK with the fact that at any second they could cease to exist, will  claim to fear clowns, spiders and heights. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard  something like “I’m not afraid of reaching my expiration date, I mean it happens to everybody… but put me in a room with a rabid tiger and I’ll shit my pants.”

While I can admit that the image of a giant cat foaming at the mouth with Cujo eyes scares the bejeezus out of me, what I’m really afraid of is what’s going to happen once those demon teeth crunch my body in half. Even though I’m a little scared of the pain that this situation is going to inflict on my sensitive skin, what really concerns me is what will become of me after it’s all said and done. It’s death.

A couple of years ago I came up with this theory that every fear- no matter how minute or irrelevant it may seem- is actually a manifestation of a fear of death. If a person says they are afraid of spiders, they are actually afraid of getting stung and dying. When person is afraid of “flying,” what they’re actually afraid of “crashing and dying.” When someone says they are scared of rotoscope animation, they’re are actually afraid that the anxiety that those rotoscope freaks of art gives her is going to cause her to have a heart attack and subsequently die.

Even as a kid I was obsessed with all things “scary.” My mom got me fixed on horror movies at the ripe age of five.  ”Fixed” really is the best way to describe it, because it becomes an addiction, doesn’t it? When I wasn’t sitting Indian style  in front of the television watching Child’s Play or Pet Cemetary 2  for the thirteenth time, I was in my room in the dark, willing myself to really believe that there was a giant slug  like creature under my bed, just waiting for me to let one of my limbs make it’s way over to the side of the bed so it could slurp me up with it’s giant snake like tongue.

Looking back, it wasn’t really the “slake” that I was afraid of. At that age, I wasn’t yet jaded enough to assume that every ugly creature was bad. I’d seen enough film to know not to  judge a monster by his appearance. I mean really. The filmmakers of my youth were really quite obsessed with pushing my generation to fall in love with the monster. They taught me that a shriveled, turd-like alien could end up being my best friend. They taught me that that a fire breathing Luckdragon might just be my ride to safety. They taught me to be aware that if I ever came across a deformed giant while searching for buried treasure, he was more likely to crave nut-filled candy bars than my own flesh and guts.

But for all of the monsters Hollywood has taught me to love, it also taught me that for every Gizmo, there are 500 Spikes.

Which is precisely why I never let my legs hang over the side of the bed. I didn’t know whether or not I could trust it. I was scared of getting eaten to death.

 I still crave fear, but my fears have shifted over the years. While the idea of monsters and ghosts  still get my blood pumping, I no longer have to leap five feet to get out of my bed in the middle of the night just to avoid coming Slake’s dinner.  Gone are the days when I would push the pee out of me as fast as I could and run back to bed without wiping or flushing for fear that if I sit there long enough, the toilet monster will chomp me up until I look like the result of bad hangover.  What used to scare me, now excites me.

Now I spend my time thinking about more grown up scary things that might lead to my demise. I fear that all those doodle bugs in LA’s bathroom are a sign that a brown recluse is living in my house, just waiting to kill me. I’m scared that I’ll get eaten by a shark if I go out too far into the ocean. I fear that a tornado will come and rip me to shreds and scatter me all the way to Wyoming. And I’m scared that a man in a mask will come and shoot me death when I’m walking to my car at night. (Especially that last one since it almost happened. )

But mostly I fear everyday not-always-scary things. Every time I go to push an electrical cord into a socket, I fear that I have forgotten that I have just washed my hands, and that I’m about to turn myself into bacon. I can’t step out of the shower without imagining myself slipping on a puddle and hitting my head on the toilet, then I somehow manage to catch myself with the shower curtain… but when I grab it I slip again and the shower curtain wraps itself around my neck and I strangle to death. Every time I prepare to walk down the stairs I just know that I’m going to slip and fall, coming to a skidding halt at the bottom of the stairs where my head will hit an unforseen giant nail and I will lie there slowly dying in my own pool of  guts while my roommate’s Bassett Hound gnaws away at my legs because she’ll eat absolutely anything.

Actually, that last one about falling down the stairs almost happened last week. It wasn’t the greatest fall I’ve ever taken, but it was the greatest fall I’ve ever had without an alcohol shield.

I was carrying a load of garbage downstairs before work, and was still wearing my so called “no slip” footies when I lost my balance at the top of the stairs. I hit my head on the first stair, and on every stair that followed. As I fell, I had one of those moments they have in the movies when your whole life flashes before your eyes. I swear. I saw my parents, my dog, my sister, my 9th grade Science teacher and a grilled egg and cheese sandwich. When the momentum of the front door halted my tumble, I lay there in complete quiet for a few moments to access my situation. I couldn’t tell if I was dead or if it was just dark because it was 5:30AM and I hadn’t turned on any of the lights yet. I was afraid to try to move bcause I didn’t want to find out that my soul was no longer connected to my body.

Death I tell you, it really gets to me.

But alas, it turns out I could move. My head wasn’t bleeding and there was no dog eating away at my spilling guts. Besides a few bruised ribs, I wasn’t even hurt at all.

Since I survived, I figure I should tell you my near death revelation that discounts my whole “every fear is actually a fear of death” theory.

While I was lying there, I realized that there was something that I feared that wasn’t a fear of death itself per se, but it was more of a fear of what would happen happen the fact.

I thought, If I’m dead, and Shelby gets full before she eats every bite of me up, and the Dexter people are able to figure out that I died after taking a great fall down the stairs… then all of my friends are going to get to say “That Carissa, I always knew she’d die falling down the stairs. HAHA oh that Carissa.”

I am in serious awe at the speed that this year has flown by. It feels like just yesterday I was getting tasered on the Fourth of July, and now it is officially the second day of November. If the Mayan’s are correct,we have approximately 3 years left before the shit starts to hit the fan. Which means I really have to get my ass in gear if I want to reach my goal of completing AFI’s 100 years 100 movies list. Though I am well on my way.

But back to more exciting things, like my past weekend.

Halloween is my absolute favorite holiday, and this year was definitely no exception. LA and her roommate threw a party this year to celebrate both of their birthdays, and of course Halloween. After hosting the party last year, I had an idea as to how crazy things could get- but what ensued surpassed any of my expectations.

I now present you with the highlights.

**I am having an extremely difficult time writing anything today. My entire body is bruised, can’t feel my butt, I can’t turn my neck, and I’m missing skin on my elbows and thighs. Why you ask? Because this genius decided that stair-surfing on an ironing board would be an awesome idea! AND IT WAS!!! At least until LA and I rode together and experienced what will now be known as the Great Crash of 2009. I wish I had footage, because it was soooooo worth this pain.

Friday night, a group of us got together to start decorating the house and carve pumpkins. I didn’t actually carve any myself, (because the last time I tried I ended up with a bloody finger and a pumpkin that resembled Sloth from the Goonies) but I somehow ended up with the task of scraping the goo out of everyone else’s pumpkins. I still have orange underneath my nails.

Doobie-lantern??

How old are we?

all in a row

Moving on to the party. Turns out there are some pretty crafty things you can do with food. Someone even tortilla chips in the shape of ghosts, cats and other scary creatures.

chips, how crafty.

egg devils. I wouldn't have had the patience.

My awesome contribution. Whoever said I can't cook?

Most importantly, you must see our costumes. Heed the warning above.

GHOULS GONE WILD

LA and I close up. have I told you how much i love making this face?

The most interesting man in the world.

"muff diver" was the technical name of his costume.

Eventually got tired of the signs. FAKE BOOBIES!!

Nothin but teeth.

Bill and sookie

???

Kiss

Overall? Definite success.

bent down to pick it up,

I noticed its head was showing

So I thought I’d have good luck.

I put it in my pocket

and headed on my way

but on the road I walked by a man

who said “its not your day.”

With gun in hand, he took my purse

and searched it for some cash-

He took my money, cards, and watch,

that’s when I saw his rash.

As he walked off I had to puke

For then I did realize

that his bumpy, red and oozing arm

had grazed across my thigh.

I rushed right home to take a bath,

but when I rose from bed-

I felt the bumps and wished that I

had found a dime instead.

One year it was my birthday

I hadn’t got a call

I sat depressed, that’s when I felt

I had no friends at all.

But then I heard a knocking

from someone at the door-

I thought with glee that Someone cares!

my day I can restore.

But when the door was open

I found that they had flown-

but left a box that clearly said

“Happy Birthday” from “unknown.”

Too dumb to feel suspicion

I looked what was inside

“What luck!” I thought “A rabbits foot!”

I couldn’t hide my pride.

With my ego now repaired-

I went out on my own

to a pub right in my neighborhood

and sat up on a throne.

The beers went down like water,

the liquor fogged my head-

Got up too quick to use the loo

and tripped on my own leg.

The world was dark for quite a while

but soon I knew the truth-

my mouth was filled with streaming blood

and not just from one tooth

A hand reached down to help me up

I saw to my surprise-

It was my love from long ago

a man who I despise.

I sobered up real quickly-

not from pain but from my grief

For who was right beside him?

his new wife with all her teeth.

One day as I sat reading

I found a clover leaves of four.

I thought I must be seeing things

so I counted them once more.

I pulled the clover from the ground

and pressed it in my book

If I had known what it would bring

This clover I would not have took.

I then resided reading

but only for a while-

I heard a rustle in a bush

that made me jump about a  mile.

I breathed in deep and clutched the book

that held my good luck charm

for what was running towards me

was a reason for alarm.

It was a man all clad in green

I froze in my appall

at the speed which he was moving

For he was only three feet tall!

I turned and started running

away from my nightmare

but the little man was at my heels

I quickly said a prayer.

Soon the lad did trip me

and snickered as he said-

“I must cut off all you hair now!”

and he took me by the head.

I tried to make a protest

and I tried to get away

but the little mite had quite a grip

and snipped with no delay

He left me there alone and bald

ashamed to tell my friends-

that all because I took a plant

and failed to make amends

A leprechaun took all my hair

my worth and dignity

Oh how I wish the that clover had

only leaves of three!