The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. It’s great to be able to watch horror movies on TV 24/7. I’d take a scary movie over a romantic comedy any day.

What always amazes me is how people react to situations in these movies. They hear a suspicious noise and then go see what it is. Haven’t they seen other horror movies? Seriously, you know something bad is going to happen. Why would you go meet the thing/person that is going to try and kill/posses you? And why would anyone want to be the only person left alive when everyone else has turned into zombies? Then what about torture movies like Saw and Hostel? Who in their right mind would want to live through something like that? You’re going to be pretty messed up afterwards.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I would do the exact opposite of what is happening in a movie. Strange noise... stay right where I am and probably curl up in the corner and wait for morning. Zombie takeover... ask someone to please just shoot me. Chained up to a wall with someone trying to kill me... go right ahead. 

Since I’ve been watching horror flicks nonstop lately, I really started to think about how I would act if I was in the movie. I realized that I would do the exact same thing that the characters were doing. The instinct to stay alive and protect your loved ones probably takes over your rational senses in those extreme situations.

When it comes to the strange noise, I would go see what it was. I would want to go meet the crazy person and fight to keep them from everyone else. And I’m certainly not going to let them come get me while I’m sleeping. I’m going to put up a fight.

In a zombie epidemic, I would do everything in my power to stay alive. Mostly because I don’t want to become something that craves human flesh. That’s not cool, and not my idea of a fun life (death). I don’t want to become zombie food either. So my only option is to survive. It would be more than just my will to live pushing me. It would be the hope that maybe somewhere there was a zombie-free town. Add family and friends into the mix, and I’d be dragging them along with me.

If someone was going to torture me until I died, I’d put up a fight then too. I’d try to kill whoever it was before they got to me. 

Well that wasn’t exactly the most cheerful post, but it’s about horror flicks so what do you expect? But to lighten things up, and instead of putting up gory pictures from these movies, enjoy some scenes from 30-Second Bunnies Theatre.

Don't mess with me leatherface.

          

I have no problem with defending myself.

     

For your viewing pleasure:

The Exorcist

Halloween

Texas Chainsaw Massacre

The Night of the Living Dead

Scream

The Shining

Don't worry, bunnies make it less scary

P.S. 

Anyone want to go see Paranormal Activity 2?

Noodles = 405 N. Virginia

Have you ever enjoyed one of these?

If you haven’t, I highly recommend them. Not only are they delicious, but they’re only $0.79. Amazing.

Don’t worry, there really is a reason why I’m talking about noodles. They remind me of my Grandparent’s house.

Since my parents both worked, I practically lived at my grandparent’s house before I started going to school. I’m convinced that Gramma is the one responsible for the good grades I’ve received all through school. She would sit and play with puzzles and flash-cards, and eventually I knew the alphabet and what all the national monuments looked like. We would spend hours working on crafts too.

Once I started going to school, Grampa would pick me up and I’d go to their house until my dad came after he was done with work. This was the routine until I was about in the 8th grade. Side note: Grampa was driving Templeton. He didn’t have a name at the time, but it was still him. Grampa was going to sell him a few years ago, but decided to save him for me. I’m pretty sure that during all of those car rides our conversations may have totaled 20 minutes. When I was older I’d turn on the radio, but I’d always leave the mariachi station on when I got out.

The first thing I’d do after getting to their house was serve up some cereal. That’s approximately 1,500 bowls of cereal. 

I spent every summer at their house too. Oh and I guess Robert was also there, but he was still pretty annoying back then, so I didn’t really want to hang with him that much.

A creek runs behind Gramma and Grampa’s house, so I spent a lot of time exploring that. They have a lot of property, which of course when I was younger seemed like acres of land to run around. The city barn (where all the city trucks parked) is at the end of the street so I could ride my bike around all I wanted in the cul-de-sac.

Anytime I wasn’t outside I would just watch TV. Who knows how many hours of Barney and Disney movies I watched. I still don’t know how they put up with it all. Then I moved on to Goosebumps, Two of A Kind, Boy Meets World, Rugrats, Doug, Clarissa Explains it All, Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Rocko’s Modern Life, Hey Arnold!, Zoom, or anything else that was on Nickelodeon, ABC Family, PBS, or the Disney Channel. Side note for those of you who think TV is bad for kids: the first things I could read were episode titles.

Majority of the time Grampa would make me lunch. Which was either the noodles mentioned above, or hard boiled eggs (minus the yolk). The noodles were of course very hot, so then he would stand in front of the swamp cooler and cool them off for me. I also discovered freezing Gatorade, and I also discovered that freezing a can of soda doesn't work quite as well.

Then of course there are the countless family dinners, which included the Kimmet and Garduño families. Well, part of them at least. Those who are part of that group know how distraught I was when Gramma decided for no reason whatsoever to replace the table they’d had for who knows how long with a table from the thrift store. Thank goodness they kept their real table. They brought it out for the last meal I’d have at their house before coming to college, and when I was home a couple weeks ago.

Even as I sit here writing this, I’m flooded with memories that happened at 405 North Virginia. All good of course. Well, other than the times Gramma would threaten to hit me with a flyswatter. My grandparents shaped who I am today as much as my parents did. Gramma taught me how to study and be creative. Grampa taught me to be quiet and love people through your actions, not your words.

P.S.

Just throwing it out there, my grandparents are the best.

Home Sweet Home

Robert was playing in the Pizza Bowl this weekend for Mile High (lame... go granite!). Seeing that I’ve never seen him play football before, I decided to make a quick weekend trip home. 

First off, over Labor Day weekend the water heater by my parents bedroom broke and flooded half the house. The wood floor, carpet, and paint needed to be redone in all our bedrooms. Let’s just say that I’m very glad I wasn’t home for that ordeal. This work was going to be in progress while I was there, so I would be joining my family at a hotel. 

That's where my bed normally is

Now, on to the real adventure. Ogden is about 45 minutes from the airport, so I was going to ride the bus/train to get there. To get to the Ogden train station I’d have to ride a bus from my dorm. On my way to the bus stop a lady from church saw me and gave me a ride there. That saved me some time, and I was on the train an hour ahead of planned. Now that I was in Salt Lake, I would take a bus to the airport. A bus was at the station, so I was doing really well on time. So I was talking to my mom about getting an earlier flight. As soon as I hung up with her I heard the bus driver yell, “airport!” Naturally, I jumped off the bus. Well, I was definitely not at the airport. Once I realized this, the bus was already gone. So I sat on a bench and figured out where I was. The blind center. That would explain why the driver was yelling... the blind people can’t exactly see what bus is there. At this point I was furious. I called UTA to find out when the next bus would be coming. After 20 minutes the same bus came, and I realized that we weren’t going back to the airport but back to the Salt Lake train station that I just came from. Then I had to wait 15 minutes for the next airport bus to come. Now I was really furious because I wasn’t going to be making an earlier flight and I was on the bus to the airport at the time I originally planned before I got the ride to the station in Ogden. After about 5 minutes of brewing over my stupidity, I just laughed at myself. 

Luckily the rest of the trip went smoothly, and my mom picked me up in Phoenix. Robert was pretty much the only person in my family who didn’t know I was coming. We made it to the last 5 minutes of the PHS homecoming game. I just walked up next to him. “How long are you here for?” and “What the hell?” were the first things out of his mouth. Then he ran to go tell his friends I was there. The rest of the weekend was spent hanging out with family, and of course some real mexican food at gramma and grampa’s house. 

Most people say that when they go back home things are completely different. Well they were lying. Everything was exactly the same (aside from our house being empty). It didn’t feel like I’d been gone for two months when I was with my family. The only weird feeling I had was when I got back to Ogden. You know how you feel when you get back home after being on vacation for a while? That Ah, home. Now I can relax feeling? That’s what I experienced in my dorm. 

This is Home

And now after all my searching
After all my questions
I'm gonna call it home
I've got a brand new mindset
I can finally see the sunset
I'm gonna call it home