That’s me. I was out until 1:00 this morning, playing with the demon spawn of hell. But why was I hanging out with Tanya, Stephen and Sue last night in the first place?
We went to the opening night of Knott’s Scary Farm (or Knott’s Halloween Haunt or whatever you want to call it). This is the second year that Tanya and I have gone to the event. Stephen has gotten us into it. He is the foremost fright-fest fan. Myself, I usually prefer to sit around at home coming up with not-so-clever alliterations.
But I had a great time at the Haunt again this year. It seemed more inspired somehow. The monsters were particularly eager (most of them anyway; bored, crazy clowns exempted).
We generally attend the “pre-scare” dinner, which gets us into the park early and allows us to stuff our guts with copious amounts of food, the likes of which I haven’t eaten since grade school (I recommend the hamburger macaroni). This greases the wheels nicely and focuses you on your distended belly, taking your mind of the masses of monsters lurking behind every corner, bush, garbage can, information kiosk…
I would write more about the whole evening, but I’m freaking tired! Plus I’m trying to work a lot of Dippin’ Dots through my lower intestines, so I need some “me” time.
If you live in Southern California and haven’t gone to the Scary Farm, go!
And thanks, Stephen, for the invite!
Fun Fact: Powdered sugar-laden funnel cakes and those picnic tables with the wire mesh tabletops don’t mix.
For the latter half of the night my jeans looked as if they had spent the evening in a nightclub restroom with Lindsay Lohan.
Tables are supposed to stop food from landing on your lap! Isn’t that why they were invented in the first place?!
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