yet more ponderings which reveal my trash tastes
So, it's Halloween night, not even midnight yet, and I'm sitting here eating popcorn with the dog and watching Ghost Hunters while Mr. Zilla is out getting cornmeal for the upcoming Dia de los Muertos feast. I often become addicted to trash tv during times of stress. Like when I realize that, yes, I am indeed 30-snarf-something and suddenly (somewhat) unexpectedly pregnant with a second child during a period of some political and financial unease and with a year to go before finally grasping that Master's, a year which is only half in the lecture hall, so that should be interesting, being completely unemployed for the other semester and wrangling two kids while student teaching and yes the incredibly long run-on sentence is a clue to the fact that I'm about to hyperventilate, thank you very much. So, yeah, Ghost Hunters. And I'm wondering how long they can actually get away with this. I mean, if you're hunting ghosts, in a haunted house where stuff is supposed to float around...why do you point the camera at the one other live guy in the room? Why not at the room itself? Don't get me wrong, I too want to believe. But really...it's awfully convenient that every time something goes bump in the night, all I can see is Jason's surprised Little Rascals look.
I used to smoke and drink drinks that smoked, on Halloween. The dog won't eat burnt popcorn.
I used to smoke and drink drinks that smoked, on Halloween. The dog won't eat burnt popcorn.