Ghosts
First of all, let's talk about atheists. My mom says they all torture dogs like Michael Vick. WHOA! That's definitely a strong view, even though she was partly laughing when making it. The subject of religion popped up at Crazy Chris's family stronghold after a commercial for "Ghost Hunters" came on.
The show is a crock of shit in my honest opinion. A team of people, who maybe minored in science at a community college, go out to haunted locations across America in search of fuzzy video clips and vague sounds that could be interpretted as being supernatural. OoooooOOOOoooooo! Spooky... if by "spooky" I mean "lame"... and if by "lame" I mean the biggest waste of time on television.
These assclowns never catch anything on camera that is even remotely strange or unusual. Yet they always act like something weird is happening just outside of the camera's view or beyond the range of their audio equipment. The Hunters will also talk about how some parts of rooms feel really cold.
Hey look! It's some kinda shadow or vampire over where we aren't pointing the camera!
No shit? The rundown, abandonned mansion from the 1700's has some cold spots? Call me crazy, but in my very unhaunted apartment in Georgia, it can get a bit chilly if I leave a window open in the dead of winter. Maybe the drop in temperature isn't from the weather outside! Maybe I'm haunted by my devilishly high electric bills. OOooooooOOOOooo!
But really, if I moved into a house where a ghost was residing, I'm not gonna call any ghost hunters or priests or voodoo witch doctors or TV psychics. According to famous psychic Sylvia Brown, all you have to do is get the ghost in your house to go to the light. Yeah, they can go to a light already... the light of my match as I burn that haunted piece of bastardized shelter to the ground.
Enjoy being homeless, ghost, because if I can't have the house, your ass sure won't be enjoying it! Fuckin' bum ghosts, squatting in homes legally owned by others. I don't care if you died waiting for your husband to return after World War II... go light a candle in the window of a home you have a legal title to.
Ankles
Well we're done with the topic of ghosts... for now. As for ankles, my mother broke hers over a week ago. One of her dogs accidentally knocked her over, and the ankle broke in three places. Youch! She's pretty much outta commision for the next 5 weeks, bound to a wheelchair. After that, she'll be able to get around with an air cast. Good times. Or uhhh... bad times.
A Fair
My "no petting zoo" policy was shattered this past Friday, laying on the floor about as broken and humiliated as an Iraq exit strategy. Going to the Georgia State Fair in Macon, I willingly entered the smelly realm of smelly petting zoo animals.
But there was a good reason: kangaroos. The very small petting zoo actually had some live kangaroos just standing there. Standing and staring with their big kangaroo eyes saying, "Pet me, Chris. Pet me."
Maybe that last part sounded creepy, but C'MON! It's kangaroos! I never thought I'd see one of those bouncing bipeds upclose unless I physically travelled to Australia. So I got in close and actually touched one. Yes, the smells of the petting zoo were nigh unbearable. Sure, I threw up a little in my mouth. Of course, I probably contracted a million diseases both bacterial and spiritual. But I got to pet a kangaroo, and that, my friends, made my fucking day.
I was careful with my decision though. Kelly and I were feasting on an elephant ear (the delicious pastry kind, not the African herbivore kind) when we spotted the marsupial spectacle standing within the caged confines of the zoo for petting. Kelly was ready to go over right then and there, but I let irrational fear of animal musk guide my mind when I replied, "Hold on there... those things smell, and they very well could be covered in sweat. If I touch the kangaroo, I'm not eating another piece of finger food tonight. Let's devour first, and pet second."
Think about it. How often do those petting zoo animals get washed? My guess is never. Not only do they have natural grossness that comes from being wild animals, but they've also had a few thousand human hands fondling them as they travel across the state of Georgia. I'm thinking about the safety of my health and the health of future Chris and Kelly children (when such a day arises). People will sometimes sneeze into their hands without cleaning, and those people are often called "children". And studies prove that 96.3% of all petting zoo patrons are in fact... children. You know what other disease children carry? Leprosy.
And I'll be damned if my end is gonna come at the hands of some filthy, flesh-rotting, kangaroo-petting lepper.
