Fright Nights: Part III

I'm sitting at school writing this during my plan.  Those idiots unblocked blogger. How am I ever supposed to get any papers graded or lessons planned? Good grief. We all know I don't have that kind of self discipline.  Blogs come a callin and I answer with open arms.  Oh well. 

Also. I'm wearing my "livin' life in 6D B" glasses as you may have seen in previous posts because it is spirit week. In addition to Superhero Day, Camo Day, Wear Red Day and Spirit Day, we also have dress like a nerd day.  Actually it started out as Nerds v. Jocks day, but apparently that was offensive and not representative of our desire to have a unified student body. So then we were supposed to cancel the nerd all together, and have jock/dress your favorite decade day. But then the kids were so hacked off they were fearing riot, so nerd day got reinstated, but this time with the removal of the vs.  This is how pretty much everything around here goes.  Keep up fools.  Regardless, I find myself in my Science Heroes T-Shirt, turtle neck underneath, in capri pants with cat socks and chucks, wearing red suspenders with my hair on top of my head.  Here's a visual. 

Anyway, I thought it might be time to update you on Fright Nights again.  It is going splendidly.  I say that because I haven't been there the four busiest nights of the season (Twice because of the plague, twice because I was in Indiana celebrating college, which is I guess what homecoming is?).  Apparently it's brutal. 

I've taken a true love for watching the goings on in the building before we get the party started.  These people are HILARIOUS. 

First of all, I am one of 5 people (out of approximately 75 total) that don't smoke.  I'm probably going to suffer the ill effects of smoking from the intense amount of second hand. Between that and my diet coke addiction (or cancer juice, as one of my students likes to call it), I'm probably headed for an early grave.  I'm forever being asked for a lighter or a cigarette, neither of which I have.  (They don't think it's funny when I offer to light it with the heat I emit from my body because I'm so SMOKIN hot in my Ghillet suit)

Mostly I keep to myself.  I have a select group of people I am willing to talk to, but much past that and I start to get concerned for my life.  Yesterday a guy wielding a broken baseball bat (which I heard him say he broke himself during a fit of rage) comes up to me and we have the following encounter:

Broken Bat Man (also wearing scary, messed up mask): Dang girl, you ain't talk much.
Me: I'm tired and I don't have a lot to say.
Broken Bat Man: Wow.  I'm glad to hear you have a voice...I wasn't for sure that you had one.

What I actually wanted to say: NO! Of course I don't talk much you crazy! You're weilding a broken bat, you are missing 5 teeth and I've heard you talk at least 3 times about your parole officer!

There is also an extrememly high turnover rate at this place. As in every night, 50% of the staff is completely new.  Which makes for an interesting situation and a plethora of new people to watch at all times.  Yesterday, one girl thought it would be a good idea to just bark at everyone who passed by.  Solid.  I'm all for that. For the record, she was not dressed as a dog or any variety of dog.  Just wearing pretty normal clothes.  I like. 

I'm starting to get creative with my free time in the woods as well.  I've started a nice regimine of ghillet yoga and laps around the clearing.  Exercise or bust.  That's my life motto...HA!

Anyway, it seems that the crowds get weirder and weirder the closer you get to Halloween, so I am sure tonight will have many fun adventures in store. 

Until next time,

Peace, Love and Pepper Spray,
Claire

Some Things to Consider:

1.  Yesterday, one of my students informed me (in all seriousness) that the United States was developing methods for creating Zombies.  Are we really prepared for this?? He is.  He's been learning the art of zombie killing.  I know who I'm going to for advice when the Zombie Apocolypse comes.  Do You? I suggest you start thinking about it. 

The Plague

Well. It has happened.  I knew I couldn't avoid it for much longer.  I have come down with the plague.  I'm going to go ahead and blame the germ infested little miscreants I welcome into my room with open arms every day. And you wonder why I don't hug people...

As it stands, I am sitting on my couch, wearing 19 layers of clothes, under a down comforter, with a space heater rolling because in addition to being sick, my heat doesn't work.  It's a really sweet situation.  You're jealous, I'm sure.

Being the trooper that I am (not really, I'm a huge pansy about being sick), I decided to go to school yesterday, but I left half day because I decided I was probably going to die in the near future.  So naturally, I went to seek medical help. After being shot down by my own doctor, and not having the energy to fight the good fight and needing find someone to tell me I wasn't knock-knock-knocking on heaven's door, I went to a walk in clinic.  Mistake.  First of all, it cost freaking $50.  Holy macarooni.  Apparently being shunned by your own doctor comes at a high price.  So now I'm rejected and poor.  They really know how to make a person feel good.

To the walk in clinic's benefit, it wasn't crowded and I didn't have to wait very long.  After having my vitals taken to prove I'm not dead, and being asked for the first time if there was any chance of pregnancy, I made my way to a delightful exam room.

5 minutes later a man practically runs in the door, screams his name at me and demands that I tell him what is wrong.  I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not.  Also, he was talking so fast with a very thick accent. I could barely understand him.  I tell him my symptoms.  He asks me if I'm pregnant.  I have no idea where he got the concept that sore throat means pregnant.  I mean...I didn't go to medical school, but somehow I doubt the two are related.  He asks me another long series of questions, so fast I barely have time to respond before he's on to the next question.  He asks if I'm tired.  I say yes.  He asks if I'm  pregnant, again.  Then he asks if I've had mono.  I guess I'm at an age where you think pregnant first, mono second.  Man, it used to be the total opposite.  I guess I'm getting old.  He felt around, checked my heart and lungs, then he goes to feel my stomach and asks AGAIN if there's any possible way I could be pregnant.  Now this was just getting to be a little much, and had I been in my right state of mind, and not wallowing in self pity with how bad I felt, I would have yelled at him.

He says, "I'm going to check your tests."
I heard, "I'm going to check your breasts."

This is how bad the accent was and how creepy and weird this doctor is.  He comes back and tells me I am negative for strep.  He swabs my throat again to double check, but proceeds to tell me that I have a cold.  Baller.  I just got creeped on and degraded AND payed $50 to be told I have a cold.  I ask him if there is a possibility that I have a sinus infection since I get those pretty frequently.  He says no...it's not a sinus infection until 7 days.  I think, "great, I get to feel this way for 7 more days." He says he'll give me an antibiotic if I want it...I feel like this is bad medical practice.  I tell him no. I don't believe in the overuse of antibiotics.  I'm really thinking, this weirdo would probably poison me anyway, I'll just wait the seven days and see my normal doctor.  THEN. Old boy says this, "You don't seem very happy with me."

I'm thinking: NO!! You're right. I would actually go with down right pissed off.  You accused me of being pregnant FOUR times.  You practically molested me and you are rude and I just paid $50 for you to yell orders at me and tell me I have a cold. On top of all of that, I feel like crap and there's nothing you can do about it!!

What I actually said: "This is a doctor's office.  People are sick.  It's not exactly joyous.  I don't feel good."

Oh mylanta.  THEN i went to Kroger to get some drugs.  I had to jump through like 8765 hoops to prove I wasn't going to make meth out of my cold medicine.  GO figure.

Ah well. I feel a little better today, but definitely not up to par.  Give it 7 days and we'll try again with this whole doctor situation.

Peace, Love and a gallon of orange juice,
Claire

Fright Nights: Part II

Well friends. It has begun.  My life as a haunted trail employee has begun...and unfortunately (or fortunately...I guess) it has taken over my life.  Every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I haul my rear end into the woods and sit there waiting for my victims.  My role? Ghillie suit.  Oh yes. Here is a little visual for you:

If I was really serious about this biz...I wouldn't tell you who I am because it's supposed to be some big secret...but let's be real...I don't care that much. 

So. I squat in the middle of the woods, wait for a group to come and when they do...scare the tar out of them.  It is super effective.  

Things I have Been Called: 

- Sasquatch

- Big Foot

- Chewbacca (this is probably the most common...which makes my inner star wars nerd a happy camper) 

- Hagrid

- Moss Man

- Tree Guy

- B****

- N*****

- M***** F*****

- Yeti

- That guy from the Wizard of Oz??

- Swamp Santa Claus

Things I have made people do: 

- Cry

- Pee

- Hug another man

- Scream bloody murder

- Assume the fetal position

Also. I am getting my cardio on...holy cow.  I calculated that on a Friday night, the second busiest night to Saturday, I ran up and down the trail 90 times.  I am sore...I am sleep deprived...but I am very amused. 

There is more to come friends, because Justin has had even more hilarious things said to him.  Also to come: a description of the types of people that work at haunted houses...because THAT is interesting...

Peace, Love and Bush Man, 

Claire

P.S. I turn 24 today. I am feeling ancient...I won't lie...and a little emo...Sorry if my post isn't as funny as it could be...I'm sure I will be back to my normal self tomorrow.