Vive La 13th!
Ah, Friday the 13th: that superstitiously dreaded of days when you are forced to think twice about being a drunken, overly-hormonal (and probably hot-sexxoring) summer camp student and/or counsellor. Because, as we all know, hot sexxors and booze just brings out all the homicidal undead crazies.
I'd otherwise argue that an interesting premise would feature such a thing happening at, oh, say a nunnery, where theoreticall sexxors and booze never happen. And as such our homicidal undead maniac would be left waiting in a visitor's chair and reading a magazine from six years ago, until someone finally gave him reason to show off his Ginsu skills...but then again, I've seen a nunsploitation film or two.
Naked For Satan, anyone?
Which reminds me: a while back, I was mentioning that exact silly-sounding title to my cousin. And in the process of 20 minutes we'd come up with at least eight equally silly-assed sounding sequels. Most of which I've forgotten. But there was
Naked For Satan 2: Naked Harder. And
Naked For Satan 3: The Nakeding.
Oh...where was I again?
Ah yes: this past Friday the 13th. Now I am not by nature a superstitious person. Most superstitions stem back to either Puritan antics (black cat = witches' familiar = said cat crossing your path means a witch is going to turn you into a newt = burn her! Burn the witch!) or else common sense (opening an umbrella indoors in close quarters means the expanding canopy is going to knock over that vase, which will inevitably lead to hot sexxors, and that's only going to psychically incite the homicidal undead maniac into a frenzy).
However, this past Friday has left me wondering if there isn't a little bit of credence to the whole worry. Or if this was just an unbelievable amount of Murphy's Law kicking us in the ass. As Mel, myself and a visiting Gary pull into our apartment complex, something unexpected happens: the fire alarm goes off.
This is the first time it's ever gone off. Sure, you hear smoke detectors in individual apartments go off every now and again, but that's localized. There's never in the past 4 years been an instance where the alarm itself goes off. Naturally our building superintendent freaked.
So, with armloads of groceries, Gary & I trudged back outdoors, joining the ever-growing masses of confused apartment dwellers on the front lawn. At least we managed to camp out one of the shaded areas. Meanwhile, Mel retrieved a petrified Shady--and was left to shake her head at Chance's incredible "disappearing ninja" skills. It's good to know that in a crisis, our cat will go into hiding and never be found. Sigh....
A half hour and a few fire trucks later, everything was deemed safe. Apparently a smeghead maliciously pulled the 2nd floor fire alarm and then buggered off. While I can't say I'm thrilled with their stupidity, it is better than the fiery alternative.
But all of that's done and gone, and Mel has spent the last day or two squeeing happily over the return of the Tachikomas in the
Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex movie,
Solid State Society. And more to the point, she demanded I buy her the working mini-Tachikoma robot they built as a promo for the movie. (If you get the DVD, it's featured in one of the extra bits.)
Anyone have a spare $10,000 lying around?
Today's Lesson: there is nothing quite so disconcerting as using the bathroom, only to find your cat sitting in the middle of the empty bathtub...staring intently at you the entire time.
Labels: fire alarms, Friday th 13th, naked for blog tags, Tachikoma cuteness for the win
posted by Phillip at 9:24 PM
