SNICK or Treat?

My husband and I creatively collaborated for a sixth time! I introduced him to another one of my childhood favorites; the kid’s horror anthology TV series from the O.G. ’90’s SNICK (short for Saturday Night Nickelodeon) channel called Are You Afraid of the Dark? It’s a re-imagined take of Twilight Zone, slapped with a G rating, infested with young Canadian actors, and a thrilling, chilling rollercoaster ride! We utilized this show for his new-ish magazine called: Rob’s Video (you can purchase it here).

The street lights have just come on, so go ahead and tie your favorite flannel around your waist, put on your slap bracelet, grab your boombox, and get cozy by the campfire for a secret hangout with your BFFs. “Submitted for the approval of The Midnight Society, I call this story [sprinkles powdered non-dairy creamer onto the flames]: The Tale of the _____________.”

The following throwback Nickelodeon’s Are You Afraid of the Dark? episodes are my top five picks, in no particular order, are relatively safe to introduce to any of your youngsters who may want to tiptoe into the horror genre:

First up, The Tale of the Pinball Wizard: a teenage kid persuades a crotchety, pony tailed mall store owner to let him cover his lunch hour. The rebellious youth abandons his post, breaks one of the rules, goes behind the curtain, and plays the new, forbidden pinball machine. A persistent call bell brings him back to reality. DING-DING-DING! A customer! And not just any customer, a pretty teen girl! She asks if her gold throne music box is ready yet; he isn’t confident that it’s fixed, so she says she’ll come back later. The flashing, beeping game beckons to be played again, he indulges by inserting quarter after quarter, he loses track of time, and finds himself.. alone. The mall is dark and empty. Or so it seems.

Just as the teenager discovers he’s locked in, a faraway payphone rings, he scrambles to answer it, and a mysterious voice asks: “Got an umbrella?” With a flash, it begins to rain.. quarters! The nearby fountain is filled with silver. The greedy teen jumps in, ankles deep, and stuffs his pockets to feed his gaming addiction. All of a sudden, he notices a shady figure walk by.. are they friend or foe? Wouldn’t you like to know?!

Next, The Tale of the Midnight Madness: two teenagers work at a failing vintage movie theatre, where they reuse popcorn buckets, and soda cups. [Ewww..] One teen even starts a campaign to try and save the historical landmark. An hour before opening, a long gray haired, bearded, cloaked man who goes by Doctor Vink, a self-proclaimed former filmmaker, makes a proposition they cannot refuse as “it won’t cost them a dime.” If they show his unique, black and white, silent, vampire horror film, he promises that it will bring customers in by the droves! Once the theatre has assured success, his only request is that they show one of his other films one night a week. The manager half-heartedly agrees with a scoff. Sure enough, Doctor Vink’s prediction comes true, and the owners decide not to close due to its newfound success!

What happens when the disgruntled manager doesn’t honor the deal he made with Doctor Vink?! How does the silver screen villain invade the technicolor real world and terrorize the staff?! Who lives to tell the tale and sweep up the mess they didn’t make?!

Next, The Tale of Cutter’s Treasure: this two-part story is so major it’s told by the best of the Midnight Society members: Frank and Gary. A little behind the scenes fun fact: after four seasons, the AYAOTD creators quickly realized that two actors were too stupendous to appear in just one episode; therefore Sardo (played by Richard M. Dumont) and Doctor Vink (played by the late Aron Tager) became recurring characters in half a dozen episodes each.

Around the 17th century, a ruthless, greedy pirate’s ill-fated loot wreaks havoc into the next millennia to come; his relentless, evil spirit still guards his bountiful fortune. Magical mayhem meets two modern-day, feuding brothers who have a few tricks up their sleeves for this ancient villain. A teen is blackmailed into buying his pesky kid brother a magic set from a shop downtown so he can be left alone with his crush all weekend since their parents are out of town.

The kid brother keeps himself occupied by playing with a seemingly “busted” nautical spyglass that his older brother accidentally “won” by opening an “impossible” locked chest at the magic shop. The shop owner, Sardo, oddly pressures him to take home his “prize” because that was the chest owner’s explicit instructions: whoever opens the chest, must take all of its contents (not just the spyglass), so Sardo can collect his five thousand dollars.

The kid brother confesses to his older brother that the spyglass is possessed, spinning and rolling around on its own, and that a skeleton hand tried to pull him under the bed. The big brother doesn’t believe him and berates him for ruining his date. That night, big bro has a nightmare: he’s in a cemetery, he meets a wary ghost, and a skeleton hand touches his shoulder. This startles him awake. He looks through the spyglass once again and now he sees himself in the cemetery.. just like in his dream! Talk about déjà vu dude..

Big bro returns the spyglass to Sardo and runs away before the chest owner, Doctor Vink, expresses no concern about the boy’s departure. He instructs Sardo to send the boy to him when he returns and teases him with a large money roll as motivation to follow through.

The younger brother ventures into the night outside by their lake house, upon the dock, the nautical spyglass magically reappears; in the foggy distance, he sees a figure rowing a boat. Inside the lake house, big bro investigates a suspicious noise coming from the closet and finds an old piece of parchment stabbed into the door by a knife: “This is no dream. The boy is mine.” He runs outside to find his brother staring at a skeletal boat rower. Flesh grotesquely engulfs the rower’s body and threatens to take the boy. The brothers try to run away but they get cornered by the rower.. and his pirate pal. The spooky scallywags were true to their word, they took the little brother, and disappeared into the foggy night.

Just as Doctor Vink predicted, big bro went back to Sardo’s, which led him to the Doctor’s doorstep begging for help. A brief history lesson reveals that big bro is the descendant of the original chest owner who unsuccessfully tried to defeat the dreadful pirate. The contents of the chest were empowered by the victims’ souls: a spyglass, a dagger, and a rusted key; tools to help the “champion” fight this destined battle.

Doctor Vink leads big bro to the real cemetery that is shown inside the spyglass. Big bro is on his own, he’s armed with the tools, he uses the rusted key to unlock / enter the mausoleum, and falls down a trap door into a dark, overgrown tomb. By the skin of his teeth, he makes it through the booby-trapped maze into the pirate’s treasure room; where he finds his brother locked in a cage. The fired-up pirate ghost demands a grand battle! Ready or not, here he comes, sword-a-swinging!

How does the big brother escape: does he fight the pirate alone or does he gain unsuspecting allies?! Does he change his selfish ways and learn the importance of family?!

Next, The Tale of the Dead Man’s Float: it all started in 1954, a distracted, horny lifeguard neglects his duties, professionally, and brotherly. His tween brother was found at the bottom of the high school indoor swimming pool. Three deadly drownings later and the School Board closes the pool indefinitely. Forty-one years later, a chemistry geek strikes a deal with the popular swim team captain; tutoring sessions in exchange for swimming lessons. Sounds simple enough, except the nearest pool is an hour away. Or so they thought. They discover the long forgotten, hidden, closed pool, and successfully petition for it to be re-opened.

The ol’ timer custodian who saves the two teens from an overturned raft, confesses his lifeguard past, and offers a theory of the haunted pool: built over an old cemetery, an invisible, forgotten spirit seeks revenge on the living that disturbs its slumber. The chemistry geek devises a plan to unveil the putrid, impenetrable creature with none other than.. chemicals! Will the scholastic trio defeat the pool phantom or will their hare-brained scheme fail miserably like “Mystery Meat Mondays?!

And last but certainly not least, The Tale of Station 109.1: two completely opposite brothers: the eldest is an aspiring mechanic doing odd jobs around town and this week’s project is a.. hearse! The youngest just so happens to be obsessed with.. death! He wears all black, sleeps in a suit and tie with his hands across his chest, surrounds his bedroom with candles and funeral floral wreaths that read: “Bon Voyage.” He even buries his shrimp dinner into an early mashed potato grave and tops it with a carrot cross.

As most siblings do, they like to pull pranks on one another; so the little bro takes the bait and ventures into the back of the hearse. And just as he’s laying comfortably, eyes closed, and solemnly reciting his own eulogy.. big bro locks him inside and jump starts the hearse to go haywire: windshield wipers going, horn honking, and radio tuning into.. “Station 109.1 radio for the dimensionally challenged.”

Little bro investigates this “new radio station” on his home computer, finds a last known address, and heads into town. He invites himself inside an unlocked rusty steel door and discovers a waiting room filled with people: some seated and others standing in line. Numbers eerily echo from an overhead speaker. The curious young fellow cuts to the front of the line, knocks on the window, and is startled to find a boisterous man pop out and scold him for knocking and skipping the line. He falls victim to the stereotypical case of “mistaken identity,” chaos ensues, and the final countdown begins! “Ever wonder where the term “your number’s up” came from?” He’s about to find out!

How does the little brother escape: does he go it alone or does his big bro come to the rescue?! Does he change his dark, macabre views on life and death?! Find out on a streaming service near you.. or if you’re feeling adventurous, take a road trip in a DeLorean to watch it LIVE on cable! Or if you’re feeling nostalgic, dust off that VCR, and pop in a SNICK VHS! 

Be kind, rewind!

“The end. I declare this meeting of The Midnight Society closed [extinguishes the flames with a nearby pail of water].” Better book it home before your folks actually pay attention to the PSA: “It’s 10pm, do you know where your children are?” and find you outta bed! 

Until next time, pleasant screams! HEY DUDE, it’s been totally unreal. Booyah! You’re ALL THAT and a bag of chips. As if! Ugh, talk to the hand. Sike! Peace out. Whatever.

‘Twas such an honor that Jaimie asked me to collaborate with him, again, on his creative project, Rob’s Video ‘zine! As I mentioned in my Vintage TrollingIntergalactic PalsImaginary Frenemy, Sob Storyteller, and Booger Lips blog posts, we were originally inspired to create vintage good/bad movie posters whilst watching the documentary: 24×36: A Movie About Movie Posters (highly recommend). Jaimie decided to take the lead on the overall design of the movie poster, however I formatted the movie title, advertising slogan, and billing block. Per usual, we will not color this movie poster because we will eventually display it along with our other black and white movie posters in our living room as an interesting conversation piece for when people visit!

It’s a Gift and a Curse

I categorized this blog post under “Inspired By” because I wrote it as a piece of fan fic·tion (noun): fiction written by a fan of, and featuring characters from, a particular TV series, movie, etc.

Until that day, fear had been an idea, a concept. Now it was real: a feeling I would carry inside me for the rest of my life. The day began innocently enough, with the buzzing of my alarm clock. Sharona, my nurse, should be on her way over soon. She does my grocery shopping, but I do the cleaning and laundry. I’m very particular about how it should be done. I spend quite a bit of time at home. It’s comfortable, familiar, safe. The outside is.. well, it’s a jungle out there.

I hope Sharona remembered the wipes. We’re scheduled to report to a crime scene this afternoon. I’m a Consultant on cases that the San Francisco Police Department needs help solving. I used to be on the force, as a Detective. I was the best there was. Maybe ever. I hope to be re-instated. A steady income would be nice to have again, but I’d still have to pay Sharona. I wonder if she’d get her own badge? I’ll ask the Captain.

Today is bittersweet. My wife, Trudy, she died five years ago. I visit her grave every year with a bouquet of her favorite perennial flowers, Viola Irish Molly. With each passing year, I find myself visiting her whenever I’m lost, which is becoming more often. I still celebrate our wedding anniversary, but that’s a happy memory. I keep a photo of her in my wallet. She’s my motivation to never give up. Her death is the one case I haven’t been able to solve.. yet. Maybe because I’m too close to the victim? Is it clouding my judgment? Am I blinded by all the possibilities? I now understand why Detectives aren’t allowed to work on cases involving family members or friends. It can complicate things. I’ve been ruled out as a suspect so that’s one positive. That just leaves a slew of negatives that I have to connect.

A knock at the door snapped me back to reality and a familiar voice called out, “ADRIAN! Adrian, open the door! This frozen yogurt is melting.. through the bag.. onto your doormat!”

Booger Lips

My husband and I creatively collaborated for a fifth time! I re-introduced him to another one of my childhood favorites; the movie called Ernest Scared Stupid. It’s an in your face, larger than life picture that warms your heart with an innocent, loveable, unconventional, goofball hero! We utilized this flick for his new-ish magazine called: Rob’s Video (you can purchase it here).

We shall be revisiting the terrorizing troll trope with one of my faux frightening* festive favorites: Ernest Scared Stupid! I know what you’re thinking: “But Halloween’s over!” Well, technically, you’re right, but when I wrote this, it wasn’t Halloween yet so.. suck it up, buttercup! “Know what I mean, Vern?” 

Bonus points to anyone who read the quote: “But Halloween’s over!” in Mike TeaVee’s whiny voice from the ’71 Willy Wonka movie. He actually says: “But Easter’s over!” Double bonus points to anyone who knows who Vern is in the Ernest movies! Do you know? No? Give up? Alright, well, I guess I’ll tell ya.. Vern is Ernest’s “best friend,” but is never shown on-screen.

Those that do grace the silver screen are: Ernest P. Worrell, our dimwitted yet honorable protagonist, who is portrayed by the late Jim Varney. Triple bonus points to anyone who’s noticed that Ernest P. Worrell’s outfit resembles Ernest T. Bass’ from The Andy Griffith Show! Ball cap, light colored long sleeve shirt, dark vest, and jeans. They say: “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Other cast members are: the legendary late Eartha Kitt, who’s best known as Catwoman and singer of “Santa Baby” (or for you young folk: Madame Zeroni from Holes) plays the crotchety Old Lady Hackmore. Get it? Hack More! Haha.. The Tulip Brothers, Tom & Bobby, played by the late John Cadenhead & Bill Byrge, recurring characters who resemble a classic comedic duo: Laurel & Hardy (or for you young folk: Jay & Silent Bob). The lead boy hero, played by Austin Nagler, this is his only movie credit because he was relentlessly teased for his kissing scene by his peers when this movie premiered that he retired from acting and never looked back! Well, technically, his female co-star kissed his cheek, but still.. kids are like totally harsh! Not cool, my dudes.. not cool.

This scary* spooky* silly slapstick flick is a scream! And the screams are stellar, so watch at your own risk! You can expect the following and more: Classic horror movie scenes slideshow intro (ranging from 1922 – 1960). Vague time caption: “Long ago.” Animated facial expressions. Elaborate, colorful monologues. Self-dipping mops. Baby doll face smashed in mechanical gears. Electrocution. Compressed garbage block. John Wayne impressions. Ablaze junkyard. A flame torch. Long, shrill screaming. A wrecked haunted house. An over-jacked rusty ol’ truck. Hysterical perspective aka multiple personalities: Roman military tribune with a mellifluous baritone voice. A frenzied tribal warrior. Dramatic neck-brace-wearing Great Aunt. Eccentric, rural cowboy with a Southern drawl. Stuck-up fashionista. Smudged-faced pilot. Overdressed lumberjack. Said over-jack slingshotting itself into the Mayor’s car window. Slappin’ trees. Bird poo facial. Rolling fog in the woods. Hammer licking. Steampunk goggles. Rock throwing. Heavily armed tree house. Cat food catapult. Pizza flinging. Literal pizza faces! Fishnet, rope, potato sack, and metal chain BDSM. Snotty noses. Wooden dolls. Ooey gooey hanging cursed “brussel sprouts” pods. Oversized “Troll and Other Tree Devils” book. Dramatic lighting with a confident: “[I am] the Great Redneck Hope!” with a supportive “Hallelujah!” singing in the background. Loud, frantic bullhorn warnings whilst running amuck throughout the neighborhood. Homemade One Stop Salvage Shop commercial recording. Corny sales pitch jokes followed by comedic rimshots. A pooch named.. Rimshot! $1,749.98 + plus tax worth of troll extermination supplies. A giant album with every Troll Love Song ever written. More rolling fog in the woods. Fingers smashed by a dumpster lid. Breaking the fourth wall. Pooch disguised as a “yummy little child” aka “troll bait.” Pitching tiny tents. Gigantic rusty steel claw trap. CB lingo: “Blue Leader, this is Troll Fighter. C’mon back now, how about ya? Roger that! What’s your 20? Over and out!” Ankle biting. More breaking the fourth wall. Writing lines on a chalkboard, nails on a chalkboard, and a teacher smacking a kid in the back of the head. All the rolling fog in the woods. Truck door smack to the face. More snotty noses. Truck roof stabbing. Truck door dismantling. Skull belt buckle. Truck driving pooch. Sword vs hedge shears fight. Nunchucks. Pulling against an accelerating 200 horsepower truck. Bumper sandwich. Roaring a windshield to pieces. Using a super size can opener to free someone from a pinched 55 gallon steel drum. Another pizza face. Crashing a Halloween Gala’s Costume Contest. Mistaken public intoxication. More ankle biting. Chocolate vanilla swirl ice cream facial. Cultural appropriation costumes. An angry parent mob. Eye gouging. Shooting baskets with a bowling ball. Unnecessary acceptance speech. Breaking all the fourth walls. Writing lines on a chalkboard again, nails on a chalkboard again, and a teacher smacking a kid in the back of the head again. All the snotty noses. Game of Duck, Duck, Troll. A Sheriff handcuffed to his own cruiser. Troll swallows bullets and becomes a spit shooter. Milk squirt guns. Operation Dairy Drop. Melted, bubbling entrails. 2% milk facial. Turn-that-frown-upside-down clown is nailed to a tree by his shoes. Mustached safari guide. Hairspray facial. Camera film consumption. Blue flying specter demons. Wiggly worm-like antenna. Miracle-Gro black and yellow claws. Devil facial spikes, horns, and tusks. Quaking flame pit. Slow-troll-dancing. Sloppy snotty snogging. Serious seizure head explosion. High-pitched flatulence.

I put the asterisks * after the words: “frightening,” “scary,” and “spooky” because the director, John Cherry, later admitted that he made the troll, Trantor, too scary and that it frightened kids, thus hurting the box office. Ernest Scared Stupid had a budget of $9.6M and grossed $14.1M, therefore it made a measly $4.5M profit, which is interesting considering it premiered in October of ’91 for the Halloween season. There have been numerous correlations made about Ernest Scared Stupid’s storyline paralleling Disney’s Hocus Pocus, however it premiered in July of ’93. They’re both live-action Halloween themed family films, they were both glossed over in their original releases, but each have a big cult following nowadays. Looking deeper into the films, the creepy historical introductions are followed by classroom scenes with someone narrating about the unpleasant events and its curses against the villagers. In addition, both lead hero boys meet up against their school bullies before facing their paranormal foes: the troll and the witches; they need the souls of children to become invincible or eternal youth. Both main characters inadvertently resurrect Trantor and the Sanderson Sisters.

The movie poster, VHS, & DVD covers have Ernest screaming whilst popping out from inside a pumpkin with a cemetery behind him, which is interesting because there are no cemeteries shown in the entire film. There was a rumor of the Troll originally digging up dead children to feed off of and Ernest was a caretaker for a cemetery, however there is no evidence of this theory and yet it seems likely. Although the story takes place on Halloween in Missouri, there’s no fall foliage or real pumpkins because they shot in the spring. 

Rotten Tomatoes gave Ernest Scared Stupid a rating of 17% and its Audience Rating is 50%. Just goes to show ya that viewers aren’t afraid of dumb funny flicks! Those lame, serious “movie reviewers” just don’t know good, clean, fun silliness! 

This is one of my childhood favorites because this movie goes a hundred miles an hour! There are so many layers: jokes, pop culture & historical references that you discover a NEW one every time you watch it! In preparation for writing this review, I caught numerous clever pokes that my head is still spinning. The genius that lived inside Jim Varney’s brain is on another level. His theater background required him to memorize abnormally long lines of dialogue. His impersonation skills equipped him to be a comedic legend. I’ve heard of this combination before with the late Don Knotts, for instance. Both men were classically trained professionals who found fame in the comedic realm. Serious actors who brought serious laughs. They knew the scientific formula to create magic on stage, which translated on-screen too. 

I recommend Ernest Scared Stupid to be a relatively safe introduction movie for your kids, young niblings (nieces/nephews), and grandkids who want to tiptoe into the horror genre. This little gem is the gift that keeps on giving, really. Passed down from generation to generation, just like the Worrell clan; from Phineas to Ernest P. I can relate (no relation, haha) to Ernest because I, too, always try to do the right thing yet.. sometimes I mess up and somehow it all turns out to be okay in the end with a little help from your friends (The Beatles or Joe Cocker, haha). Even if some of your friends may be youngsters, old biddy hermits.. or covered in fur! Friendship holds no boundaries. Regardless of your BFF’s DNA, IQ, DOB, or BMI! Check out this silly, not-so-scary cinematic sensation that every member of the family will enjoy. The variety of humor will be sure to tickle everyone’s funny bone.

‘Twas such an honor that Jaimie asked me to collaborate with him, again, on his creative project, Rob’s Video ‘zine! As I mentioned in my Vintage TrollingIntergalactic PalsImaginary Frenemy, and Sob Storyteller blog posts, we were originally inspired to create vintage good/bad movie posters whilst watching the documentary: 24×36: A Movie About Movie Posters (highly recommend). Jaimie decided to take the lead on the overall design of the movie poster, however I did initially suggest including Earth Kitt, but it seemed heavily uneven so we ultimately decided to forego that idea and utilize that space with a moonlit sky to balance out the treehouse in the background. Jaimie did end up redrawing Earth Kitt’s character, Old Lady Hackmore, as additional imagery to feature in his ‘zine. I formatted the movie title, advertising slogan, and billing block. Per usual, we will not color this movie poster because we will eventually display it along with our other four black and white movie posters in our living room as an interesting conversation piece for when people visit!


We recently celebrated Ernest Day at a modern-day souvenir shop called KY4KY in Lexington, Kentucky; which just so happens to be the hometown of late Jim Varney who played Ernest P. Worrell. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing multiple people in costume, hilariously designed items, and special guest Justin Lloyd, a local biographical author who just so happens to be Jim Varney’s nephew. Of course, I bought his book and had him sign it. I’m looking forward to reading it and learning more about the comedic genius! Justin informed us that a Jim Varney documentary will be premiering soon, which I’ll be keeping tabs on when and where. Check out our weekend road trip here!

No Strings Attached

I prefer to work behind the scenes as a Puppet Mistress because I’ve had my fill of being controlled. Yessir, up to ‘ere, I tell ya! I’m only a meter and a half high so that’s a bloody lot! No more headlining in Freak Shows for me.. full time anyways. Gotta start somewheres, I guess. I’d rather create me own fantasies than live in this depressing reality, as a freak. Ya see, I was born with a facial deformity and bowed legs, which me own Mother capitalized on by sending me away to a traveling Circus Freak Show when I was a wee lass, just six years of age, for a whoppin’ two shillings! Me Mum never looked back, I only remember seeing the back of her bright blue and yellow floral sundress and wide brimmed straw garden hat as she strolled away from the railroad station.. away from me. I wonder if she ever missed me, her one and only daughter?

The Ringmaster took me in as his own, but he’s a businessman at the end of the day and I’m not the only orphan in the Circus Freak Show. His time’s spread thin with booking shows, breaking down and putting up tents, traveling here and there, everywhere really, kissing audience members’ arses, wrangling the performers, hiring and firing the crew, refereeing quarrels, and of course.. putting up with us freaks. The Ringmaster, we call him “Burly Burke,” he’s the closest to kin I’ve had for the past two decades. Even though he’s the lad in charge and I’m just one of his many workers, we get on just fine. I can’t say the same for the naughty kids, they call him “Burke the Jerk” behind his back. I don’t believe any of their hogwash about Burke being a jerk though. I choose to believe this unsavory nickname came about because Burke is always chewin’ on beef jerky.

One day soon, I hope to be promoted from Puppet Mistress (like an Apprentice) to Puppet Madam; I just gotta prove my stuff first, impress Burke and Gertrude, win over the audience, and not muck up too much. If I do all that, I just might transfer from Freak Show to Puppet Show. I’d have more creative responsibility as a Puppet Madam: writing scripts and crafting the puppets, which is much better than untangling the puppet strings. What a shite gig! Seriously, a monkey could do it. I mean, we do have a thirty-three year old chimp named Marmalade, we call her Ol’ Marm, she doesn’t seem to mind, as long as you don’t look her in the eye. Her full time job is being the Ringmaster’s right hand. She follows Burke around carrying a satchel with anything he may need. Rumor has it that Ol’ Marm is a retired undefeated boxing champ. I cannot imagine Burke putting her in the ring with a drunkard for three shillings a round! Well, I guess if this is all true, that would make her Burke’s unofficial bodyguard too. I read in a mustard stained, ale soaked National Geographic magazine that I found in a bin that a chimpanzee has 1.35 times the strength of a human being.

Reading seems to be the only escape I can get from this place. The Puppet Madam, Gertrude, begrudgingly taught me how to read and write a couple years ago. I think she saw potential in me because she’s never taught anyone else before or since. Crippling arthritis robbed her ability to write Puppet Show scripts and craft the puppets. Her previous illiterate pissants were able to memorize the scripts from her dictation. She still dictates, but now I’m beginning to write for her. I’m still learning how to craft. Gertrude has quite a few strict rules. Top of the list is: “No Improvising” as she thinks it mucks up the whole production.

“Bloody hell Deirdre! What’d I tell ya?” Gertrude demanded while stomping her cane with one hand and wiping her twisted fingers across her face with the other. “Rule number thirteen: “Do Not Be Seen.” We’re meant to be invisible to the audience because it creates a sense of believability that the puppets are performing on their own.”

“S-sorry M-mum,” the new puppeteer, Deirdre, quickly apologized, avoiding eye contact and shuffling her feet, ready to retreat. “A-anything else before I g-go?”

“No child,” Gertrude softened with a tight lipped smile. “Off with ya,” as she waved her moth eaten handkerchief and plopped down on an uneven footstool. Deirdre vanished before Gertrude finished her second syllable. I don’t blame her because when an elder comes at you like that, we expect to be beaten, and if you can outrun ’em.. You might as well give it a go.

“Brilliant show tonight, Mum,” I said while pouring two cups of hot tea and handing one to Gertrude.

“Eh. We still have two more to go,” she muttered with a sip and a yawn. “I don’t think I can muster through.”

“Oh, w-well, I-” I began, gathering all the courage to continue. “Y-ya know, I-I could take over for ya so you can r-rest?”

“That’s awful kind of ya,” Gertrude breathed with a sigh, her wrinkled face relaxed as she leaned against a splintered tent post and closed her eyes; teacup still in hand.

I carefully wiggled the warm teacup out of her tight grip and tucked a frayed quilt around her. She started to snore and drool, which were signs she was out. Over the years, I’ve learned the saying: “The wise man doesn’t poke a sleeping bear with a stick.” Wonder if there’s a story behind that? Maybe someone published their unpleasant experience in an issue of National Geographic? Which reminded me that I needed to rummage through the bins later for something new to read.


“Well done, mate,” I said, patting Deirdre’s shoulder as we both stood from kneeling on footstools for what seemed like hours.

“Thank ya?” Deirdre hesitantly replied, motionless, waiting for more to come.

“I mean it,” I continued, handing Deirdre the puppets and props one by one. She placed each of them into a steamer trunk. “I think you’re gonna fit in here. Don’t worry about Gertrude. She’s a tough ol’ broad, but she grows on ya.”

“If you say so,” Deirdre replied, locking the trunk and sitting upon it. “So, what’s your story?”

“M-me?” I asked, not expecting the conversation to turn. “Oh, ya know, um, classic runnin’ away to join the circus story. I heard something about you stealing some bread from one of our tents? Couple weeks ago?”

“Yes’m, I’ve been on the streets for as long as I can remember,” she reminisced while twirling her short greasy golden locks between her stubby fingers with one hand and pocketing the steamer trunk key with the other. “This traveling circus gig seems to go with my nomad lifestyle, so we’ll see how it goes..”

“So, you’re a gypsy?”

“More or less.”

“More of a thief? Less of a gypsy?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” Deirdre said with a quick grin. She shifted her weight to the edge of the steamer trunk and her shiny penny-less loafers rhythmically tapped the ground. “Anything else before I go?”

“Uh, aye,” I started, clearing my throat, and leaning against a tent post. “Those are some nice shoes ya got there.”

“Thank ya?” Deirdre questioned the compliment, as she crossed her legs and arms.

“Lookit, I live in a grey world,” I put my hands up in surrender. “I was just gonna ask if ya could maybe be on the lookout for a size three and a half for me?”

Deirdre uncrossed her arms, leaned back resting her palms on top of the steamer trunk, stretched her still crossed legs out, and squinted her blue eyes up at me.

“I-I’m way overdue for a new pair. I g-gotta hole in each sole. These damn bowed legs need b-better s-support. W-whenever it rains, I c-catch a cold. I can’t a-afford losing anymore work.”

“What’s in it for me, eh?”

“I’ll put in a good word for ya with Gertrude and Burly Burke?” I proposed while absentmindedly thumbing through the puppet show scripts in my burlap apron.

And teach me how to read?”

“Think you’ll be around long enough to learn?”

“I’ll see to it that I do. Haven’t had nothing to look forward to in- -,” Deirdre trailed off, averting her gaze, and quietly chuckled to herself. “I’ve never had nothing to look forward to.”

“Got yourself a deal,” I agreed.

“Aye,” Deirdre leaned forward to her feet and extended her hand towards me.

I slowly lifted my hand out of my pocket, Deirdre firmly shook my hand, and I instinctively winced.

“You okay?” Deirdre loosened her grip and looked me in the eye. “Didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

“O-oh, n-no, um, it w-wasn’t t-that,” I began, voice trembling, and letting go of her hand. “I-I, uh, d-don’t have a lot of p-physical c-contact.. with a-anybody.”

“Not even Gertrude? Y’all seem friendly,” Deirdre’s assumption prompted me to shake my head. “Burke?”

I slowly shook my head again, feeling uncomfortably awkward.

“I’m sorry,” Deirdre whispered, grabbing my hand again, and squeezing it gently.

“Blimey! Look at the time,” I blurted to end the lingering silence, disconnecting our hands. I fumbled to open my cracked pocket watch and closed it in my jittery hands.

“Are you turnin’ in?”

“I think it’s best. I’m knackered,” I excused myself in a hurry and stumbled out from behind the dusty maroon velvet curtain into the twilight air. “Oi! Watch it,” I exclaimed as I bumped into a wee lass.

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” the toddler screamed, her eyes wide as saucers. “A-a m-monster!”

“Oh, bugger.. I’ve been called worse,” I mumbled under my breath, as I attempted to bend down to her level and comfort her. This only made matters worse. She shrieked again and scurried off towards a woman wearing a faded blue and yellow dress and tattered straw hat. Safe to say, her Mum.

“Aw, what’s the matter, love?” the woman calmly asked her distraught daughter while tenderly stroking her hair. The wee lass hid behind her Mum’s leg, peering out with one eye, and pointing her index finger in my direction. The Mum locked eyes with me, she tilted her head, mouth agape.

“Apologies, Miss,” I stepped forward. “Didn’t mean to give her a fright- -,” I trailed off as I witnessed the Mum guiding the wee one away from me towards the exit. Thrice, the woman glanced over her shoulder back at me before she disappeared amongst the crowd.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” Deirdre flew to my side, checking her surroundings, wondering what the commotion was all about. “Thought you turned in?”

I didn’t hear her. I was lost in thought. Replaying what just happened. That woman’s bewildered face.

“She looked familiar,” I murmured as I stared after the departing visitors, hoping to catch one more glimpse of her. “Vaguely, and yet.. still familiar.”

“What are babbling on about?” Deirdre beseeched, still looking around for any clues to piece together.

“I accidentally bumped into a kid and when she ran screaming to her Mum- -” I cut off, remembering where I’d seen that dress and hat.

“Then what?” Deirdre pressed, holding onto my shoulders and trying to make eye contact.

“I-I t-think,” I sputtered, repeatedly blinking and my knees began to buckle. Deirdre caught me before I tripped over myself.

“What? C’mon, spit it out,” Deirdre demanded, repositioning her hands on my shoulders, not letting go.

“I think that w-was m-my M-Mum,” I said, my mind whirling with uncertainty, but my gut gurgled with assurance.

“Did you really?” Deirdre asked, unsure how to respond to such monumental news.

“A-And m-my s-sister,” I stated, surprising myself, finally putting the pieces together.

“Wicked!” Deirdre celebrated, patting me on the back with one hand, and resting the other on her hip.

“N-No, no, it was h-horrible- -,” I divulged, deciding whether to share my past with her.

“Oh, so, uh, those weren’t screams of a happy reunion, then?”

“No, no, definitely not.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon then, let’s go for a pint,” Deirdre insisted, while putting her arm around my shoulder and we walked side by side.

“Don’t be daft! It’s almost curfew.”

“Bollocks! Curfew, shmurfew.”

“What?”

“It’s Gibberish or Pig Latin,” Deirdre chuckled, while bumping her hip into mine.

“You’re thick. Those aren’t real languages.”

“Rubbish! Says who?”

“I, for one. And I’m sure everyone at the pub will agree,” I stated matter-of-factly as we entered O’Sullivan’s.

“You’re on,” Deirdre declared with a wink and squeezed my shoulder as we approached the bar.

“What’ll it be lasses?” the bartender asked with his back to us.

“Two pints, please,” Deirdre said, holding up her thumb and index finger.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” the bartender stated, now facing us, taking two coasters from.. Ol’ Marm who popped up out of nowhere from behind the bar!

“Burke?” I asked, while positioning myself on top of a sticky barstool. “What brings you two here?”

“Oh, well, y’know, when somebody’s a no-show; we gotta pick up the slack,” Burly Burke expressed with pride while gently petting Ol’ Marm’s head. Like an assembly line, Ol’ Marm filled two pint glasses and she handed them to Burke. He slid one full pint glass across the shiny walnut bar top into my hands. Then to Deirdre.

I smiled while lifting my sweaty pint glass in agreement with him. Burke half-smiled back at me and was off in a flash to take the next patron’s order.

“That chimp’s a cheeky bastard,” Deirdre teased in a hushed tone. She abruptly cleared her throat and raised her glass towards me. “Cheers, mate!” We clinked pint glasses, took long sips, and “aahhh-ed” with satisfaction.

“So, what’s your real story?” Deirdre craved for the full scoop on my life.

“We’re gonna need another pint,” I admitted, while downing the rest of my beer. “Burke! Fill ‘er up?”

“That good, eh?” Deirdre followed suit.

“Settle in. It’s gonna be a long night,” I burped and we both burst into laughter.

Side Hustle & Bustle

I joined a new writing community called The Narrative Method (TNM), which is a nice change of pace in regards to agenda, structure, timing, and group dynamic. Whilst in the Zoom waiting room, a silent short video played on a loop explaining TNM’s mission statement, rules, and what to expect. The TNM Host was engaging, intelligently versed, and to-the-point. The one hour Zoom session was thoughtfully planned out to maximize the literary and interactive experience.

The TNM Host promptly commenced by greeting as many attendees as possible, then they quickly summarized their mission statement, rules, and what to expect. They briefly shared their screen with an image as inspiration (I was fast enough to take a screenshot for my reference), then they verbally announced the first writing prompt (as well as writing it in the Zoom chat) and we wrote silently for seven minutes. Once time was up, the TNM Host verbally announced the second writing prompt (as well as writing it in the Zoom chat), we again, wrote silently for another seven minutes. The TNM Host separated us in small Breakout groups, of 3 or 4 people for about 15mins, to share with one another.

We re-joined the entire group (of about 45people) and I believe the TNM Host stated that whomever would like to share the first sentence or their favorite sentence from their writing could do so by “raising their [Zoom] hand.” I didn’t hear this possible announcement or instruction, most likely due to technical difficulties, time delay, &/or because I am hard of hearing.

The first person to share asked: “Can I cuss?” and the TNM Host replied: “Fuck yes!” which tickled me more than it should have, haha! Another person who shared said: “I noticed my writing turned dark and I became uncomfortable so I just stopped writing, reading.” The TNM Host replied: “It’s okay that you felt that way! I, personally, like the dark because the depths is what’s real and rich. Embrace who you are!” Later the TNM Host said: “Share what’s inside you, if it offends someone.. [shrugs] ..oh well!” This was refreshing to hear because while I do understand the reasoning behind giving “trigger warnings” before sharing, I feel this somehow “censors” and prohibits creatives to fully express themselves. We should be able to create and share without boundaries. Without judgment. Let’s just color outside the lines! If you can’t be yourself here or there.. then where?!

The TNM Host was also open to hearing feedback in regards to suggestions to improve The Narrative Method writing sessions. There were quite a few attendees who commented on how the below inspiration photo was pixelated, fuzzy, blurry, difficult to decipher, etc. I quietly wrote in the Zoom chat that this added to the mystery of the corresponding writing prompts. This unclear image forces you to fill in the blanks. Some agreed with me. Others were neutral, I suppose. I wasn’t trying to sway anyone in particular, because everyone is entitled to their opinion. As a graphic designer, I totally understand, however sometimes clarity and high-quality imagery isn’t always obtainable when it comes to a.. free writing workshop. I did however, give some suggestions at the end:

"You could include the prompts on the image (in lieu of verbally repeating & writing in the chat because when others write, you have to scroll to see the prompt(s)), however I recall the TNM Host mentioning they didn't want to have the image on the screen the entire time (~14mins of writing prompts).

Another suggestion could be creating a Google Slide deck (or Microsoft PowerPoint presentation) with three individual slides showcasing:

1st slide = Image
2nd slide = First writing prompt
3rd slide = Second writing prompt

This may help those who are hard of hearing, like me, and eliminate the scrolling up and down in the Zoom chat to see the writing prompts."

The TNM Host seemed to appreciate my suggestion(s) and replied something to the affect of: “Oh, not to make light of your hard of hearing, but you have made me see the light!” something like that, I can’t remember exactly what she said. It was funny that she didn’t seem to take herself too seriously. I could see she thoroughly enjoyed interacting with a diverse group of creatives. This group seemed to be courteous of others’ time and brought it to the TNM Host’s attention if they skipped over someone by mistake.

The TNM Host briefly shared the above image as
inspiration for the below prompts

Prompt #1: What secret past is unknown to his colleagues that they’d never suspect? (~7mins of writing)

In the Muggle world, he’s a Concierge at a four star hotel in downtown London from June to August. In the off season, he is the Caretaker of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. His name is Argus Filch and no.. he’s neither Witch or Wizard. He’s a Squib, he was born to at least one Witch or Wizard parent, however he cannot perform magic. A dud, if you will. Nonetheless, his scholastic wage barely covers living expenses so he needed another job to make ends meet.


Prompt #2: What one small slip breaks his cover? (~7 mins of writing)

On a long, dark, and stormy humid summer night, Argus was escorting two hotel guests from the lobby; his 48th trip during his double shift. “Merlin’s beard! Ten more minutes to go and I’m off,” Argus thought to himself with a yawn as he ascended the last step and turned the corner into the hallway. The tall slender lady handed her portly gentleman companion something from her pocketbook and he handed it to Argus. They tipped him Muggle money for carrying their luggage to their room.

“Yessir, thank you, Headmaster,” Argus automatically replied, pocketing the tip.

“H-hang on, w-who?” the male hotel guest replied, glancing to Argus, and then to his lady.

“Oh, a thousand apologies, s-sir,” Argus blurted, he slowly realized he slipped up, and attempted to recover. “I-I’ve m-mistook you for s-someone e-else.”

“I know very well who you mistook me for- -,” the middle-aged man sternly stated, unwavering, stepping closer to Argus.

“Ahem,” the lady interrupted, tip toeing in between the two men, resting one hand on her companion’s shoulder, and the other on the hotel room door knob. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”

“Yes, Mum,” Argus whispered, with his head low, eyes fixed on the floor. As he slowly backed away from them, he heard the man make an indistinct remark with a grunt.

“C’mon Vernon, Mummy needs to be oiled and spoiled!” she squealed, while pulling his necktie like a dog leash toward her.

“Oh, Petunia!” he pleaded, panting and whimpering; they disappeared behind the hotel room door.

Bloody Muggles! It’s time to clock out,” Argus thought to himself with a sigh of relief as he began to descend the stairs to the lobby.

Sob Storyteller

My now husband and I creatively collaborated for a fourth time! I re-introduced him to another one of my childhood favorites; the movie called Cry-Baby. It’s a raunchy spoof sprinkled with a classic charm! We utilized this flick for his new-ish magazine called: Rob’s Video (you can purchase it here).

We’re taking a time warp to 1954! No, not to Rocky Horror Picture Show, but.. you’re getting warm, haha! Alright, so, just picture it: a high school gymnasium with two long lines of teenagers anxiously waiting to be stabbed with a giant needle, which I presume to be for the polio vaccine. There are two distinct cliques: Drapes and Squares. Drapes are provocatively and darkly dressed, greased back haired guys in jeans and black leather jackets, girls in form fitting, short dresses, high heels, and with heavy makeup. Squares are conservatively and brightly dressed, guys in zoot suits, girls in cardigans, poodle skirts, saddle oxfords, with minimal makeup.

A Drape falls in love with a Square at first sight. The pair later discover they’re both orphans; the Square, Allison (played by Amy Locane), her folks died in an airplane crash. The Drape, Wade “Cry-Baby” Walker (played by Johnny Depp), his folks met their demise in Old Sparky. Cry-Baby’s sister, Pepper, is a pregnant teen mom who “can fight like a man,” played by John Waters’ Hairspray lead actress, Ricki Lake; she gives birth to baby #3 in the back of a car that’s playing chicken. Guess the adrenaline rush induces labor, haha! The bloody crazy punk rocker OG, Iggy Pop, plays Cry-Baby’s & Pepper’s uncle. Former underage porn star, Traci Lords, plays a Badass Drape Bitch, who uses her “bazooms as weapons” to ward off creepy, predatory geezers. Her “Mrs. June Clever” mom is played by none other than Patty Hearst, a former convicted felon (bank robber) whilst under the influence of a terrorist organization who kidnapped her. Another Drape gang member named Hatchet-Face plays a mean saxophone. I mean, who can resist a sexy sax?! I know I can’t, haha!

In my first two movie reviews, 1986’s Troll and 1988’s Mac & Me, they each had random musical/dance numbers that had no relevance to the storyline whatsoever; however this 1990 flick is a.. ♫ MUSICAL! ♪ This flick is where Grease meets Jailhouse Rock, minus the authentic singers. That’s right, Johnny Depp lip syncs every number in Cry-Baby! Even though Depp can sing.. he has provided vocals in the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie in a drunken duet ditty of “Yo Ho a Pirate’s Life for Me.” Years later, Depp reveals his singing chops in the musicals: Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street and Into the Woods. Johnny Depp is in touch with his musical side, he’s played guitar in a couple rock bands: Rock City Angels, Pink Grenade, & Hollywood Vampires. Johnny Depp doesn’t dance either, however John Waters somehow talked him into briefly cutting a rug with his fellow juvenile delinquents. Depp has openly admitted that he has two left feet. Even his Mad Hatter’s Futterwacken dance in Alice in Wonderland was CGI! I’m sure the bone bending moves and 360° head spinning had a little to do with it, haha!

This provocative parody packs a punch! And the punch is spiked, so watch at your own risk! You can expect the following and more: Unwanted panties thrown onstage. Licking a lover’s lonely teardrop. Graffitied cars with sugar poured down their gas tanks. French Kissing Lesson 101. A blown up jukebox. Unforgiving noogies. An inflamed, runaway motorcycle. Obnoxious, too-much-tongue-makeout session. A flat tire on an iron lung and then being jacked up to put on a spare. Dropping a trio of F-Bombs, two of which are comedically bleeped so they could keep their PG-13 rating. A glass jar filled with overdramatic, low-spirited tears, and drinking them. An inmate’s ass unexpectedly smacked by a guard as he hops up on a top bunk bed. A boosted helicopter. A three story dumpster dive. Repeatedly pressing personalized license plates of the same name: “Allison.” A needle prick prison tattoo of a lonely teardrop. A pair of tighty whities scooting through a manhole. Giggling vermin. Faux Siamese twins on display in a painted freak show circus glass cage. And a ziplining bunny.

Cry-Baby had a budget of $12M, it grossed $8.3M domestically by the end of its theatrical run, making it a box office flop; even though it was shown in 1,000+ cinemas — an unprecedented number for a John Waters film. Rotten Tomatoes gave Cry-Baby a rather high rating of 73% and its Audience Rating is 77%, which I think is quite generous considering these “professional movie reviewers” seem to despise the majority of my childhood favorites. This one may be the exception. I believe the reason why Cry-Baby resonates with me is because.. sure it’s a silly parody; however, it cleverly pokes fun at the ridiculousness of cliques, colorful language, and anybody who’s.. different. I can relate to not fitting in with the crowd and ruffling feathers along the way just like the Drapes do. I can proudly say I am the only person in my family with a mohawk who went to public school. On a personal note, everytime Cry-Baby says Allison’s name, I swoon and imagine Johnny Depp is speaking to me. He can press my license plate anytime! Check out this crazy camp cinematic tearjerker. I’ll be damned if there won’t be a dry eye in the house.

‘Twas such an honor that Jaimie asked me to collaborate with him, again, on his creative project, Rob’s Video ‘zine! As I mentioned in my Vintage Trolling, Intergalactic Pals, and Imaginary Frenemy blog posts, we were originally inspired to create vintage good/bad movie posters whilst watching the documentary: 24×36: A Movie About Movie Posters (highly recommend). Jaimie decided to take the lead on the overall design of the movie poster because I was drawing a blank on any suggestions or critiques. I was struggling with how to situate the two main characters that made sense for the storyline and to think of an original idea. Of course, it hit me like a bolt of lightning! Right before Jaimie was going to print, I had a last minute suggestion for a entirely new composition! Jaimie was a good sport, he begrudgingly went back to the drawing board, and created the final concept I pitched to him. Luckily, he’s a quick illustrator. I formatted the movie title, advertising slogan, and billing block. We may not color this movie poster, because we think it stands on its own in black and white. We have officially displayed our four movie posters in our living room. We finally made some wall space! Feels good to have a collaborative display piece that you can brag about when guests visit!

Through Thick and Thin

Well, a lot has happened in the past year. I’ll try my best to give you the SparkNotes version. Last May, I proposed to my partner on our 4yr anniversary. If you click the previous sentence that is underlined (hyperlink), it will direct you a website showcasing how I proposed.. and his answer.

Nine days later, I had an unfortunate misstep and injured my ankle and needed surgery, however my temp job did not want to give me time off to do so, therefore they let me go.

I found myself.. having a lot of time on my hands so I could heal, recover, and reevaluate the direction of my life. Literally, one step at a time. I took the advice of my therapist(s): redirect my negative thoughts into productive, positive thoughts/actions and.. start wedding planning. Every girl’s dream! Well, almost every girl, haha.. I’m a simple gal who has been a bridesmaid in a few weddings and I know I’m anything but traditional.. including the groom-to-be.

In preparation of proposing, I had an inkling that Jaimie would ask me if I had a date in mind. I thought a year engagement would be sufficient, so I looked a calendar year ahead, and discovered the day before our 5yr anniversary was.. Friday the 13th! It just so happened to be.. Jaimie’s favorite horror film, his favorite number, he has the number 13 tattooed on his forearm, and his previous cat’s name was named Thirteen. Plus, it was close enough to our anniversary date to where we didn’t have to remember two different dates. Just a day apart. Not bad. Without even realizing it, we had our wedding “theme.” Most people predicted I would have a Disney themed wedding, however I didn’t have any real expectations or preconceived plan or elaborate dream wedding in mind. I knew I wanted our day to be a collaborative event. Representative of both Jaimie and I. Jaimie not only said yes, but he was on board for the Friday the 13th date and theme. I mean, I knew he would be. How could he not be intrigued? I also knew he’s not a fan of weddings, in general, so it was effortlessly easy to entice him with a fun concept!

I knew Jaimie was the one on our first date. Not exactly “love at first sight,” but I had a gut feeling that our chemistry had potential to be off the charts. I later discovered this feeling is called:

This overwhelming feeling drove me to do some pretty presumptuous things.. such as.. buying a wedding ring for Jaimie.. after dating for only a year. I was helping a recently engaged friend of mine pick out a wedding ring for her future husband at a jewelry store near where we just had brunch. This jewelry store was having a sale. A store closing sale. Up to ninety percent off. My friend chose a ring. The ring she didn’t choose, but I had liked, I asked the sales clerk how much it was. She said it was originally five hundred something, but it’s sale price was less than fifty. I couldn’t believe it. Seemed too good to be true. I consulted with my friend and before she could answer, an older gentleman overheard us and interjected: “If you were proposing to me, I’d say Yes. Go for it!”

I let my folks know of my recent purchase and my half baked future plan to propose with no further details. They insisted that I ask for Jaimie’s parents’ blessing. I shrugged off their suggestion as it was an outdated, old fashioned tradition. And yet.. I couldn’t shake the thought that his folks are old fashioned, so it made sense to ask them. They laughed.. and.. laughed. Ultimately, I did not get their blessing. And I didn’t blame them. We had only been together a year, so I understood their hesitancy.

This minor setback did not deter me from purchasing my wedding dress a couple months later. I was on my way to the produce section at Meijer, I had to pass the women’s clothing dept, all their new Easter/spring dresses were out.. there I saw.. the perfect little white dress.. I grabbed it, bought it, put it in the back of my closet, and forgot about it.. Couple weeks later, I was putting laundry away.. in the back of my closet.. and I saw that perfect little white dress.. which reminded me, I needed to try it on. I hung it up on the back of the bathroom door, unbuttoned it, and noticed.. Well, let me preface by saying Jaimie doesn’t usually sign his artwork. He signs: “As you wish.” A quote from the movie The Princess Bride, which means “I love you.” So, I noticed the dress tag said: “As U Wish.” The company name is what Jaimie signs on his artwork! Like I said, “perfect little white dress.” I just didn’t know how “perfect.”

I knew I wanted to propose in a creative way.. since Jaimie and I are both artists in our own ways. I had numerous ideas: custom photo puzzle of us with a comic bubble coming from my mouth, “Will you marry me?” Or a photo slideshow of us throughout our relationship, maybe even recruit our family members and friends to contribute with their approval of our relationship by spelling out “will you marry me” in each photo. I also knew I wanted to propose on our anniversary. Originally, it was going to be on our 3yr anniversary during our vacation in New York City, however COVID threw a wrench in that plan. We cancelled our trip. Also, I had lost my job of 5.5yrs. I was in between multiple temp, freelance jobs and I did not have the confidence to follow through with my proposal plan(s).

Luckily, with the encouragement of a dear friend, he told me: “Just go for it because love doesn’t wait for the right time.” I decided a week before our 4yr anniversary to make plans to propose. Once everything was ready, I asked Jaimie’s folks again for their blessing and this time.. they did not laugh. His mom happily cried and they gave their blessing. Whew, I couldn’t believe I had sat on that ring for 3yrs! I asked Jaimie the biggest question I had ever asked.. Anyone. Ever. Click here to find out how.

I designed our wedding invitations, I created a Facebook event, for those who weren’t on social media, I texted them or emailed them.

Our friend was kind enough to offer his services as our officiant. He was dressed as a Camp Crystal Lake Counselor: polo shirt, short shorts, tube socks, whistle necklace, ball cap, sunglasses, and clipboard. We collaborated on the wedding ceremony officiant script. If you click the previous sentence that is underlined (hyperlink), it will direct you to it.

We sprinkled the spooky throughout: our attire, accessories, shoes, props, décor, food, even my hair! See if you can spot ’em all!

Our hockey masked flower girl was Jaimie’s 11yr old niece who did a fantastic job of creepily stalking about the park. Speaking of the park, I had researched multiple local parks that would compliment our Friday the 13th theme. A lot of them were connected to the city or county and they wanted thousands of dollars for five minutes, which was crazy! I finally found a park, Lindner Park Nature Preserve, that did not have a website, only a phone number that they never answered; nor was there a way to leave a message, thus I deemed it.. the park. We decided since we couldn’t ask permission for having our wedding ceremony there, we’d have to go Guerrilla Style.

Click here to see more of our wedding photos & videos synced with music.
*killer photography by: Bird & Rose
Click here to see our photo slideshow that played during our reception.
Click here to see our honeymoon in Salem.

Imaginary Frenemy

My fiancé and I creatively collaborated for a third time! I introduced him to another one of my childhood favorites; the movie called Drop Dead Fred. At surface level, it’s a complete ridiculous bonkers film.. yet it’s deeply and colorfully good! We utilized this flick for his new-ish magazine called: Rob’s Video (you can purchase it here).

A doting mother reads her sweet daughter, Elizabeth, a wholesome bedtime story. The youngster asks: “Did they live happily ever after?” The mother replies: “Of course, if the beautiful, young girl had been naughty; the Prince Charming would’ve run away.” The little girl’s natural response was: “What a pile of shit!” Kids say the darndest things! And.. cue the early 90’s animated opening credits sequence! That’s how ya know it’s the start of an awesome flick!

The little girl, Elizabeth aka Lizzy, grows up to be dumped by her cheating husband, her car is stolen, along with her purse.. all on her lunch break! She returns late to work and.. she loses her job too! She’s forced to leave her apartment she shares with her douche husband because her overbearing Mother demands she come home with her. Elizabeth sleeps in her childhood bedroom where she finds her forgotten, closeted childhood toys, and one of them starts to play a musical tune in the middle of the night. As she opens the taped up Jack-in-the-Box, an orange and green puff ball poofs out, bounces about the room, and rolls under the pastel pink twin bed. Lizzy investigates this mysterious dust bunny and is startlingly reunited with her long-lost playful imaginary friend named.. Drop Dead Fred! He wreaks havoc.. and chaos ensues! You gotta check this flick out to see how!

Drop Dead Fred is not a movie for children, yet the trailer paints it to be quite innocent. How misleading, I know! This could be the reason why my folks let me watch this movie as a kid. It has a PG-13 rating, where the Mother is referred to as “The Mega Bitch” a couple times, however is later referred to as “The Mega Beast” so they could keep their PG-13 rating.

The brilliant portrayal of Drop Dead Fred was played by the late Rik Mayall, an English stand-up comedian, actor, writer, author, narrator, voice actor, and stage performer; the majority of his credits are from British productions. This is his only American role that I remember seeing him in growing up. Rik Mayall’s quick wit, comedic timing, and slapstick is the best I’ve seen next to the late Robin Williams, which makes sense as Williams was initially offered the role of Drop Dead Fred, however he chose to play Peter Banning in Hook instead.

The mousy Lizzy aka Elizabeth aka Snot-Face is played by the 80’s hottie Phoebe Cates best known from Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Gremlins. Lizzy’s best friend, Janie, is played by none other than.. Princess Leia! Ahem, I mean.. the late Carrie Fisher; she originally auditioned for Lizzy, but she was considered “too old.” Ugh, how rude!

In my previous movie reviews, of 1986’s Troll and 1988’s Mac & Me, they each had random musical/dance numbers that had no relevance to the storyline whatsoever; however this early 90’s flick, Drop Dead Fred, doesn’t have any of that. It’s unusual and immature all on its own! The humor is as lowbrow as it gets with picking of noses then wiping snot on faces, purposely walking in dog shit then stepping on freshly shampooed white carpet, looking up women’s dresses, brief male bare bottom nudity, and serving steamy mud pies for breakfast and dinner.

There are numerous special effects (for its modest budget of $6.7M = £3.6M) such as Drop Dead Fred pinballing around rooms along with cartoon sound effects (Boink! Aoogah! Splat! Zoom!), appearing/disappearing with a magical twinkle, a head being smashed by a fridge door, being run over by an oncoming fire truck and leaving only a pair of bright red shoes behind in the middle of the street, a deflated car whizzing about like a balloon, a magical tree growing out of a staircase, a body engulfed in flames, a set of eyeballs bulging out, and steam blasting out of some ears. Drop Dead Fred grossed $13.8M over its entire theatrical run and £1.7M in the UK.

I believe the reason why Drop Dead Fred resonates with me (still, after all these years) is because on the surface, it seems like a silly comedy; but it’s deeper than you can imagine! This movie is about embracing your inner child, using your imagination, and standing up for yourself even if no one believes in you. Speaking of “not believing,” Rotten Tomatoes gave Drop Dead Fred a rating of eleven percent (super lame), however it has an Audience Rating of seventy-seven percent, which I think speaks volumes to the mass of dedicated Drop Dead Fred fans who are more open-minded to this amazing dark fantasy screwball dramedy cult classic! You should give this one a try. It’s a goodie with a hilarious, fun loving baddie! I pinky promise you won’t be disappointed!

‘Twas such an honor that Jaimie asked me to collaborate with him, again, on his creative project, Rob’s Video ‘zine! As I mentioned in my Vintage Trolling and Intergalactic Pals blog posts, we were originally inspired to create vintage good/bad movie posters whilst watching the documentary: 24×36: A Movie About Movie Posters (highly recommend). Immediately after viewing the movie, Drop Dead Fred, we brainstormed the overall design of the movie poster: Fred popping out of the jack-in-the-box toy/prison, picking his nose, and wiping it on Elizabeth. Our final concept paints a clear yet disgusting picture of what kind of film this is: immaturely fun yet brilliant! Jaimie drew our ideas to life and I formatted the movie title, advertising slogan, and billing block. We will, for sure, color this movie poster, because it’s the most interestingly fun illustration we’ve conceptualized thus far. We will absolutely display it somewhere in our home. We just gotta find the wall space.. Ugh, haha!

I’m looking forward to collaborating with Jaimie again soon for his next issue of Rob’s Video! Please stay tuned. You don’t wanna miss it!

Kaiju Crew

From a distant planet named Kerfuffle

Where it always snows, but never sticks

Many asteroids, many moons, and many stars ago

A strange creature arose from a steaming pile of…

LAVA!

That’s how Nosilla got her fiery red locks

Perfectly quaffed in a stripe on her head

She smashed her way around the village

Making waves amongst everyone she encountered

Nosilla seems like a villain

But she’s not

She always cleans up her messes

She makes peace with all the villagers who got a bad first impression of her

What Nosilla lacks in gracefulness

She makes up for in her super power of creativity

To solve the unique challenges Planet Kerfuffle has to offer!

Dish-ish

If you brought a dish that represented "you" to a dinner party, what dish would you bring and why?

Deviled Eggs

Pooped out by a fowl creature

Made

Not born

Boiled from the inside out

Guts and all

Cracked out of my delicate shell

Strategically dissected, disemboweled, and separated from myself

Whipped with a creamy sauce

Stained with a yellow squirt

Seasoned with a dash of black pepper and a circle of salt

Sprinkled with paprika

A little spice and everything nice

A spiritual invocation sung upon my final phase

Hail Satan for I am Deviled Eggs!

CAUTION: INGEST AT YOUR OWN RISK