I like haunted houses in theory BUT I have no idea how to react when the actors speak to you. They ask me a question and I just… answer it…

The scariest part of a haunted house is the unscripted social interaction.



Scary nurse in a creepy voice: “Do you have an appointment to see the doctor?”

Me: “Uh. Do you accept walk-ins?”



Scary farmer: “I like to kill people!”

My friend, brightly: “I like to die!”



Zombie : “AARRRGH”

Me : “Do you get dental insurance?”

Zombie : “TEETH!!”



This happened to me.

Scary prison dude: HELLO

Me: Nice to meet you!

Him: (pause) No it’s noooooot



My worst horror house experience was when I couldn’t find the (rather obvious) exit and the guy chasing me with a chainsaw stopped, sighed and pointed me to the exit, saying “please scream as loud as you can when you run out there” and just left. I disappointed the horror house chainsaw dude and I will never get over that



Guy: They are all my friends.. (motioning to hanging corpses; then grabs a noose) Will you be my friend? 
Me: Sure totally, you made me a friendship necklace? Oh my god your so sweet? 
Guy: … Yes.. Please, let me.. I cant I cant just go (laughing). 

– Got to walk a second time through– 

Same guy: My friends -wailing- 
Me: I came back I just really wanted to be friends so bad
Guy: (laughing more) Please, Im not allowed to laugh. 



I went to a Haunted House and literally befriended every actor there.

Specifically, I remember;

There were zombies walking around in the waiting room. I said “Hi!” and he gave me a high five. Every time he passed from then on, I got a high five.

Near the end, there were these twin little girls. “Come play with us.” They said. “Okay!” I said. “Forever.” They said. “Oh, sorry, can’t do that. I’m busy.”

I could hear them giggling.



Guy playing Freddie Kruger: Remember, you are all my children!

Me: thanks dad

A small chorus of teenagers: thanks dad



I went to a haunted corn maze once. Someone ran at me with a chainsaw. I just stared at him. He hung his head and walked away. I left.



The Real Horror Is The People We Dissapointed Along The Way


#embarrassment squick #death tw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #Halloween


a quick step by step guide on what to do if you come back to your apartment and find yourself locked out because your front door is frozen shut

  1. kick the bottom of the door for 10 minutes
  2. text your landlord
  3. remember your landlord is on vacation and also in her mid 50′s so it takes about 36 hours to receive a response
  4. briefly wonder why the fuck you moved the canada
  5. remember that college tuition is significantly cheaper here than in the united states 
  6. look up and notice your cat is at the window, staring at you. he paws at the window lightly and meows. it’s devastating. his eyes are so big and imploring. decide that you have to get inside your apartment at all costs. not even god himself can stop you from feeding your cat his chicken wet food dinner. frida kahlo herself could descend from the heavens and ask “hey you wanna bang?” and you’d say “hell yeah but first let me open this door so i can feed my cat his dinner”
  7. remember there is a starbucks 3 blocks down the street from you
  8. enter. the barista gives you a weird look for entering a starbucks at 7pm on a tuesday
  9. order a venti cup of hot water. you order in french because the barista just said “bonjour” instead of “bonjour, hi.” you have a strong american accent. you hit the r in merci a little too hard to compensate. you embarrass yourself.
  10. exit the starbucks clutching the massive cup of hot water in your hands. it’s burning your fingers.
  11. return. methodically pour the starbucks cup of water all over the the door frame. it begins moving a little but still wont open
  12. back up
  13. ensure your doc martens are properly gripping the sheet of ice covering the ground. many people have told you to stop wearing doc martens in the winter, despite your protests that theyre actually the ideal winter boot. also, you’re a lesbian and punk’s not dead
  14. release a pterodactyl screech and sprint towards the door, slamming the full force of your pathetically tiny 5′2″ 110lb body into it
  15. you dont know any of your neighbors so you dont care about maintaining your pride anyways
  16. the door swings open
  17. run up the stairs
  18. open the actual door to your apartment and yell MOMMY’S HOME MY LITTLE BITCHASS BABY BOY DONT WORRY at your cat
  19. cat flings his body to the ground and starts purring like he does every time you come home
  20. write tumblr post


#storytime #our home and cherished land #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #embarrassment squick? #weight cw? #and this one isn’t *quite* right but close enough that I’m going to include it: #fun with loopholes



im singehandedly repairing jewish-goyische relations through my outreach with my facebook friends



I briefly forgot there were normal humans named Elijah and wondered why this person thought they were getting messages from Actual Prophet and Messiah-Herald Elijah the Tishbite.



….yeah me too.



Me three.



Imagine getting visions of someone else’s holy prophet and having to text your friends like “….what am I supposed to do with that?”



isn’t there a whole Star Trek about that? 


#me four #(or however many we’re up to now) #Judaism #I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #Star Trek #DS9


also can we take a moment to think of solok, baby vulcan cadet at Starfleet Academy, who tried to study illogical human bonding rituals and somehow got into a twenty-year academically documented feud with sisko? he was probably doing an assignment for his vulcan professor of xenocultural studies. “go and study human bonding rituals”, they told him. “you will be spending a great deal of time with humans, it is necessary to understand the illogical ways in which they function”. that’s logical, cadet solok thinks. i will go to the human establishment called “bar” and attempt to study human bonding rituals.

the next day he hands in his assignment: “human cadets became hostile when told the goal of our study. they had imbibed large quantities of poisonous psychoactive liquids and had poor coordination and diction. cadet sisko challenged me to a wrestling match. when it was pointed out that i had no cause to fight him, and am physiologically superior to humans, he responded ‘suck it’. request for clarification was met with obscenity. in the interest of cultural understanding, i agreed to fight him, and defeated him fairly. when it was pointed out to him that i had foreseen this result, he responded with uncorroborated insults to my parental units. i believe this was a human bonding ritual. it is possible we are now bonded; further studies to follow.”

solok has been studying sisko for twenty years, he’s written a dozen papers. he probably got a grant from the vulcan science academy to show up at DS9 and piss sisko off as much as possible and document the results. his work is probably mandatory reading for first-year vulcans at starfleet academy. “The Effect of Chemical Intoxicants on Human Hostility: When Avoiding A Bar Fight Becomes Impossible” is the most-accessed study in vulcan psychological literature. “human refused to stop trying to fight me” is a recognized mitigating circumstance in disciplinary hearings for vulcan cadets. solok is considered a xenocultural pioneer. he hopes one day sisko will punch him in the face; what a fascinating data point that would make. 


#I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #Star Trek #DS9 #headcanons #violence cw

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No name brand is still so fucking funny to me.



I’ve mostly become inured to No Name graphic design after 12 years in Canada, but I still managed to find this image (from their email newsletter) endearing:




Are you implying you’re on a no name newsletter

I am on the No Frills newsletter! I don’t remember whether I *deliberately* signed up as part of getting a loyalty account, or if it was an accident that I then decided to keep. I figured it might have some handy coupons or some such.

Mostly it’s just flyer notifications, and since I already get (and use) paper flyers from them that’s not really useful for me. I’m currently still skimming each one to see if there’s anything useful or interesting, but I might unsubscribe.


#reply via reblog #advertising #our home and cherished land #food #adventures in human capitalism



No name brand is still so fucking funny to me.

I’ve mostly become inured to No Name graphic design after 12 years in Canada, but I still managed to find this image (from their email newsletter) endearing:



#I was actually already considering making a post about this #advertising #our home and cherished land #food #reply via reblog

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Bad: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, but nobody picks up on it for various implausible reasons.

Good: Superhero whose secret identity is just staggeringly obvious, and everybody “knows”, but in spite of countless people’s best efforts nobody can actually prove it.

“Literally everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose,” said the woman sitting across from me in our candlelit dinner. “The superheroes know it. The villains know it. The guy on the street knows it. Uncontacted tribes in the Amazon know it. The Enquirer doesn’t break the mask code when they print your picture because they don’t even bother mentioning who you are. If I need to have conversations with you pretending not to know that Bruce is the ‘Goose, we’re going to be the only two people on the planet pretending that.”

My expectations for this date’s viability were starting to sink. She was saying intelligent things, and saying them with remarkable confidence and self-possession for somebody who thought she was talking to the Masculine Mongoose himself. It was impressing me and more than slightly turning me on. But the conversation had taken a turn I’d been down before, and not a promising one. “I don’t want to get into a relationship under false pretenses,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Like if I slept with you under the impression that you were just an ordinary playboy millionaire, instead of a superhero.” She sipped from her champagne glass, visibly trying not to smile.

“Look,” I said, trying to make my voice as persuasive as I could. “Just like you say, everyone knows that Bruce Kent is the Masculine Mongoose. People have believed that for eight years. And in all that time, nobody has ever managed to prove anything – never mind suggestive evidence, nobody has ever shown it for certain. Shouldn’t that give you pause?”

Keep reading

I would read an entire novel series about this concept. 

To her dying day, reporter Terri Green would remember the look on Bruce Kent’s face as the assassin stepped out of the crowd, holding the gun.

He just nailed it perfectly.  The look of shock, of horror, the way he reacted almost as slowly as a normal human, how he instinctively raised his arms to protect his face.  It was incredible acting, every bit as good as you’d expect from the Masculine Mongoose himself.

The assassin managed to fire three times into Bruce Kent’s chest before a completely nonplussed police officer managed a tackle.

Bruce Kent fell to the ground and didn’t move.

“I did it!” shrieked the lunatic, even as he was being slammed to the ground and cuffed.  “I did it!  I proved who Bruce Kent really is!  They may take me away, but they’ll always remember the Smart Guy With A Gun as the man who finally proved it!  Let’s see you get out of this one, Mongoose!“

Keep reading


#storytime #superheroes #oh look an update

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