Got me a brilliant pun and nowhere to use it. Solzhenitsyn just doesn’t come up in conversation much these days. Just more evidence of the moral decline of society for ya.
I got to be a ghoul this evening. I drove over to Claremont, a lovely gem of a town hidden on a corner of the James River. (Do rivers have corners…?) The librarian in Claremont, a coworker from my previous job, is a dear friend and a stunning corpse bride. She and her library assistant, the blood-sucking Sue, put together a spectacular haunted house, along with some other do-gooders from Claremont. Or evil-doers, in this case.
I ponied up my two dollars to tour the house. The gaggle of teen girls in my group were scared shitless. Me, I’m too cynical to be scared by stuff like that. My idea of scary is global warming, or the rising cost of housing, or pop rock. But I appreciate the effort. It really was very good, and certainly scary for everyone except hardasses like me.
After my tour, I got to be a ghoul. I stood in a corner and grabbed people. It was fun.
The best part of the haunted house was the Scary Books display. Featured authors were Nora Roberts and Rush Limbaugh.
Tomorrow is Halloween, aka The One Day Each Year When I Can Dress Like A Trailer Slut And Get Away With It (TODEYWICDLATSAGAWI). Except I can’t dress tooooo slutty at work. It’s not professional. Well actually it’s very professional, in the Oldest Profession sense, but not in the librarian sense. So I’m probably just going to toss together a mishmash of goth/slut/punk stuff, while carefully ensuring that nipples, reproductive organs, et. al., are sufficiently hidden.
Besides, they can’t make me hide my sexiest part, my brain.
(That’s what people are attracted to, right? Brains and intelligence. Right? …. right? ….)
[Echo gradually fades to silence. End scene.]