I Scare Nice People

I am laughing as I type this.

My husband is reading over my shoulder, telling me I should call today's post, "Things I Like To Do." Or "Things He'd Like To Forget."

I think "I Scare Nice People" -- best possible title ever.

Because anyone who has been reading me for awhile knows-- and we've been over this before: not that there is any one thing wrong with me, just several little things....nothing enough to be called a red flag. Just a few light pink flagettes here and there.

I like to scare nice people. I like to scare the nicest people of all, like my husband.

It's something I can't help....to turn him into a dancing bug-eyed fool, few things bring me more joy.

Before anyone jumps on me about his age! his heart! what will the children do?? I can promise you that I know his family history and follow his most recent physical exams, checking that BP, heart rate, cardiac risk factors, are all well within normal bounce back from scared s***less fright range.

The most recent exhilarating episode fell right into my lap, perfectly timed, while we were home on a weekend night watching BatMan Begins.

In this movie, there is a heart pounding 20 second segment where the breathtaking Cillian Murphy, playing the mentally unstable Scarecrow, drives an asylum patient into madness.

He could be a Victoria's Secret angel (or mine)

It is cinematography wonder; filmed in broken, twitchy frames showing close ups of an unevenly stitched burlap sacked head. It is the unexpected beauty of Cillian Murphy inside that bag, with him being so sadistic mastermind certifiable, that makes this scene just the horror that it is.

So much scarier in a dark living room at 11 PM

It took all of half a second for me to know just what I'd be doing before the film was over.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and left my husband sitting in the dark--watching the horror of the psychoness of Scarecrow unfold.

Quietly, I went upstairs instead. Once on the second floor, I pulled a pillowcase and scarf out of the bedroom closet and tiptoed back down to the bottom of the stairs, just ten feet from where my husband was watching Scarecrow drive some poor hanging on to sanity by his fingernails asylum patient to the edge of his psychological cliff. I sat on the bottom step and placed the pillowcase over my head, tying the scarf loosely around my neck. 

I slipped my shoe off, and threw it, hard, against the staircase wall.

And then I waited.

I knew my husband would come check on the noise. I had to press my lips hard to keep from laughing in delirious anticipation.

When I heard him call my name, I just about yelped out in glee.

At the sound of him getting up from the sofa, I had to bite my thumb to keep myself quiet.

The sound of his footsteps coming in my direction had me holding my breath and chewing the inside of my cheek.

HE WAS COMING.

I tucked myself into the corner of the stair, crouched into the very wedge, pillowcase over my head, scarf securely around my neck, excited beyond words. He was just steps away now. It was dark, he took one step up and stumbled into me.

I heard the "what the..?" and then....THEN, I felt his tentative hand reach out and perfectly land on my clothed head.

Sweet lord make it stop!!

OH! The long awaited prize of his yell.

How I live for that first yell when things are moving too fast for his brain to understand.

Not able to hold back my laughter, I pulled off the pillowcase, blessedly in time to see him blinking faster than a strobe light and dancing in place as he tried to figure out what was going on.

He mumbled something about one of these days this will all take its toll.

In my defense, he was George Clooney grey when I met him.

Honest.
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A ScaryMommy

A blogger's rite of passage, one off the blogger's bucket list, now a member of the society...

I'm talking about being a ScaryMommy.

Today, I am at Jill's site, ScaryMommy, experting on the subject of getting what you want.

I hope you click over, and leave me a nugget of wisdom of how you make things work for you in this life.

Thank you, always, for your support.
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Comments Closed

He Is Fake

Baby E post day: my youngest, 'Baby E,'  felt an urgent need to post today, with a message for you. Happily, I relinquish this space to him.
*new to Baby E? Click here first*
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Hi. It's me, Baby E. Today I have to tell you something: This man is fake.

I told my mom I have to say something about this. Because maybe people might believe him and he is fake.

He is on a commercial during a kids' show!! He tries to sell stuff to kids I don't get.  He's fake. He says "My name is this and I am super rich because I did this and you should do it!"

He is a multiton bajillionaire who will not tell you the secret of how to get a billion dollars unless you send him money first. And that is the secret! Ask people to send you money, and then you keep it and then probably you just send them a note back that says, "the secret to be rich is to ask people to send you money."

And it works kinda. Because you kinda do want to send him money to be rich. But I know he is fake because his videos are cheesy.

He's not Santa and those videos are dumb.

On one, the one my brother laughs the most about, he is on a really fast boat that is flying through the water and with money that he is throwing up in the air. That is how you know it is a lie because even if you have all the money in the world you will still not throw it up in the air especially going over water fast. That is how you know he is dumb.

He's like Barney for old people--he is pretending.

I want to tell people that he is an actor acting and my mom said I could that today. To tell you to not send him money.

Even though he doesn't have a costume on, he is still fake.

You should not do what the commercials say. even if you want to. "Hey, moms and dads--I'll give you a thousand dollars"-- and he'll say this for like five hours, he says, "I can make you rich!"

He does not have super special powers to open up banks.

Mostly he is annoying, but he is lying, too.

He comes on a lot, during some kids' shows I watch.

I want everyone to know to not listen to him, even if you want to, to have all that money.

He is a fake.

Bye, that is the thing I wanted to say to you the most today: to ignore him even if you want to call him, to get the money.

Bye. Next time I want to talk about Halloween and my soccer tournament this weekend and my gramma and grampa are here.

Bye.

Remember to ignore him.

From, Baby E.

The Sacred Bleeding Heart of Jesus

I write monthly for a blog that I have so much fun preparing posts for.

It's TikiTikiBlog, and they feature my childhood stories of growing up Hispanic in America.

Today, I write of the Latino answer to ADT home security systems.

You'll have to click over to TikiTikiBlog and find out how you can protect your home, day and night, the Latino way.

Hope to see you there, and thank you!

You Are Enough, Child Friendly

Thank you all so very much for the birthday wishes yesterday.

I had a wonderful day full of handmade cards and time with my family and more sticky hugs than a person has a right to.

Last year, for my middle son's fourteenth birthday, I gave him something I wish I would've had during the troubled times of adolescence. I wrote him a list of all the wonderful things that make up who he is. I asked him to keep the list forever, and to turn to it whenever the world had him doubting his worth.

I write about that list at Just Be Enough today. I hope you'll click over.

Thank you, as always, for your support of my writing. It means so very much to me.