Tuesday, October 4, 2011

stop collaborate and listen…

Yesterday it was “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips.  Today it’s Ice-Ice Baby.  I wonder what pop hit from 1990 will be in my head tomorrow…

The scab from my butter knife injury has finally fallen off.  And yes, I am more than likely going to have a nice little scar.  It will serve as a forever reminder that though they are often overlooked, butter knives are definitely a dangerous form of cutlery.  

Be careful, friends.  It’s a dangerous world out there.

As I mentioned previously, I am going to Sloss Fright Furnace next weekend.  I have never been, and I am SO stinking excited.  I am really 15 years old on the inside (Jonathan Taylor Thomas pictures from the late 90s still make me more than a little bit giddy), and I think haunted houses/attractions are fantastic. 

By fantastic I really mean terrifying.                                                

I scream.  I shake.  I panic. I hyperventilate.  I say bad words. 

Then I leave and tell everyone how awesome it was and try to convince the people with me that I was just pretending to be scared the whole time.

I do this to myself every year.

But Sloss Fright Furnace?  This place is supposed to be the real deal.  Like super, super scary.  In order to prepare for the experience, I have been looking up some information online about what exactly it is that I will be facing.  Apparently, in the tour of the actual furnace (there is also a haunted trail… more on that later), there is a “furnace catwalk.” 

That sounds promising. 

Walking on a narrow and elevated path? 

I will be totally fine.  It isn’t like I struggle walking on regular surfaces or anything.  


Honestly, though, I’m more worried about the outdoor trail than anything. 

This is how the website introduces the trail:

Are you ready to face your deepest, darkest, fears armed with nothing but a flickering light?

I’m interested to see how they are going to pull this one off. 

Is inadequacy going to follow me around as failure grabs at my ankles?  

I kid, I kid. 

I’m excited.

I am.  I’m not just trying to pump myself up because I am truly nervous and scared to death.

Really.  I promise.

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