I had quite a night last night, and after that, I found it hard to function properly today. More about that later. While trying to find something to watch on that horribly boring thing we call a television, my mom came across a show called Swamp Men. She said it looked interesting. This is how all of my ridiculous stories start.
Let me begin by saying that I have a tremendous amount of respect for these men. They not only protect wildlife, but in order to do that they have to deal with very dangerous wildlife, putting their lives on the line daily. They show is also education. In fact, in just one show I learned the following.
* Alligators are cannibals. They will eat the baby gators. I wonder if they raised Hannibal Lecter, or if he gave lectures at swamps across the world to introduce them to his wicked ways.
* When alligators flip upside down, vertigo causes them to pass out. If you ever see a gator upside down, he is unconscious. This doesn't mean you go near him, though. He will eventually pull out of it, and once he does, you don't have a prayer in September of getting away. He'll be on you like a duck on a June bug in three seconds flat. (I was just waiting to properly use the duck on a June bug quip.)
* It's perfectly acceptable to say clusterflop instead of clusterfuck. Doesn't that take the fun out of it, though?
That being said, I do not have the maturity to hold my laughter in, when, suddenly, three of four large guys pile on an alligator in a very compromising looking position. (3:47, and you're welcome.) For those of you who think football tackles look hysterical, you haven't seen a grown ass man straddling an alligator, legs splayed, while two or three other men hop on top of him, legs also splayed, in various positions. Not only does it look like they're making love to each other, but to the alligator or crocodile as well. Then they find themselves at the mercy of the one man who isn't piled on top of the gator and getting the rope to grab the gator with. If that guy thinks they look hysterical, he'll just take his time getting the rope, leaving them in what looks like a compromising position only to be shown on an X-rated channel. The one guy...he totally took his time and admitted it was on purpose. It's good to know even they think it's funny.
In other television news, I was desperate, so I had the news on. I'd rather read the news online and skip over all the Steelers stuff. However, the news proved itself comical today, if only to us. This time it wasn't even the newscasters' fault.
First, some football player on some team that I don't think was ours, but wouldn't have notice or cared if it was, ran ninety seven yards to a field goal. I commend him, but I'll be damned if I'd run ninety seven yards if there wasn't a donut at the other end. Priorities.
Second, today is obviously Martin Luther King Jr. Day. The least we can do is take a day to honor such an eloquent, amazing man. In fact, in a town here known for constant shootings, a whole fifty people marched down the street to honor fourteen shooting victims. At the same time my mom and I both said variations of "only fifty people honoring fourteen?" You have to understand, this is a large area with nearly twenty thousand people, and each year that probably drops by a hundred with all the shootings. I wish I was kidding, but no. There are a lot of shootings there. The odds of there being that many shootings in one area are almost negligible. It just seemed a little...awkward?
But seriously, guys, today is an amazing day honoring an amazing man, who, unfortunately, was far ahead of his time and it ended his life. It's good to see that his legacy lives on and is being honored.
In other news that has nothing to do with anything, my mom decided one of the ladies at work is her mentor. She just doesn't know it. That's how we do things in Pennsylvania. We make you surprise mentors.
There is no doubt in my mind that Helena is related to this clown. She was sleeping in the living room when I went into the kitchen. I bent down for two seconds and stood up to find her standing behind me, completely still and staring at me. There's a lot of things that don't scare me; dead people, snakes, singing munchkins and lawn gnomes, but she scares the hell out of me. I guess that means I'm left with nothing but holy. If she starts scaring the holy out of me, I'll worry.
The highlight of my very odd day, however, was Shemar Moore on The Talk. He's something of a playa-playa (I'm sorry, but I'm trying to get the lingo right. I know it's funny coming out of the whitest girl in all of the world. That's my trademark.), but my gosh is he gorgeous.
While he was on the show, I was emailing my awesome Australian friend about something that happened last night, and decided to tell her he was on the show. Not thinking anything of it, I titled the email Shemar Moore and Last Night. It took me several minutes to realize what was wrong with that, but once I did I laughed like a sixteen year old boy, or, you know, like myself, and then promptly hit send. Since nothing I say about the email title is going to be allowed on blogger or not get me in trouble with my mom and Aunt Bev, who would probably agree with it but never admit it, I'm just going to talk about last night to clarify that one had nothing to do with the other. However, if you thought it did, please come over here and rub off on me. You have a much more fabulous idea of my life than what is reality and I want it all up in my business.
Last night I was minding my own business and happily typing away while talking to my awesome Australian friend, when I very, very suddenly felt like someone had whacked me over the back of my head with something very hard. The pain was unreal, and for two seconds I blacked out. While blacked out, I got an image of a man, mid forties to mid fifties, wearing a black windbreaker jacket with cuffs like you would see on a sweatshirt. He had a large piece of wood, about four inches thick, a foot and a half wide, by two or three feet long. He took it and absolutely impaled a girl on the back of the head, right where I had felt like I'd been hit. It happened so fast, but the image was very vivid, and as soon as he hit the girl, I came to again.
When this happened, I felt blood just pouring out of my head, down my neck, and forward down my shirt and over my wonderfully perky ta-tas. My mind started racing. I put my hand up to the back of my head. It was wet, warm and gooey. I started to mentally freak out, wondering how someone got in the house, how the dogs didn't notice, where the person was now, why they would hit me over the head; my mind was racing. I pulled my hand away to survey the damage and...nothing. I looked down at my chest. Nothing. I put my hand back up and I felt it again, my head still throbbing and my vision going in and out. I got up, went to the bathroom, got another mirror and put it behind me and realized there was nothing wrong with my head. There was also no one in the house. I was fine, but I didn't feel fine.
My vision repaired itself slowly, and the pain lessened, but the feeling that there was blood gushing out of my head didn't. Eventually, I couldn't take the sound of any noise, so I turned the volume off on the television. I sat here for awhile, talking to said awesome Australian friend and trying to keep my wits about things. Talking to her was my way of knowing I was okay. Had there been anything actually wrong that would have otherwise caused the pain, I would have quickly become delusional, not been able to type, not been able to string sentences together, etc. None of that happened. For all intents and purposes, I was totally fine. Nothing at all had happened to me.
After about an hour, I still felt like I was bleeding profusely. It was so profound that every few minutes I would automatically put my hand up to my head and make sure that I wasn't bleeding. Even though I knew I wasn't, the feeling was just profound, so real, that my body subconsciously responded by checking my head. I was still sitting here minding my own business, perplexed but trying to talk about anything but that, when I heard someone screaming. This is exactly what I heard.
"Get it off! Get it off! Get it off! Get it off! You sick son of a bitch! Get it off!"
It was coming from my living room, so I thought nothing of it. The TV remote was next to me. I simply moved and hit the mute button and the sound came back on. I thought, holy shit, what show came on after My Fair Wedding with David Tutera? This is WE Channel for goodness sake. Then I looked up and realized mute was still displayed across the screen and another wedding show was playing. Not just that, but Greta must have heard it because her little fanny had left my side and was nowhere to be seen. My only response was, "oh my damn."
I had pretty much figured when I realized I was not actually harmed that this had to do with a new spirit. However, I had never been physically impaled this way. I have had aches and pains, sharp ones even, but it wasn't the same. One time I woke up and my kneecaps felt broken. Later that day a young lady by the name of Kara came to me. Her kneecaps had been broken. As soon as I saw her, my pain went away. A few times I have felt pain where the spirit, who was standing in front of me, had been harmed. But I had never been sitting there and actually felt like I had been impaled, and then having a flash of a man hitting a woman in the same place over the head, followed by the sound of a girl screaming in my living room with no explanation. But apparently it wasn't over yet.
I couldn't sleep. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was bleeding. I felt like the blood was gushing out of my bed even three hours later. I was awake, fully awake. Do you all remember how I said my ankle was hurting me yesterday for seemingly no reason? I had forgotten about it. The pain had thankfully gone away the longer I sat down. Just when I was unsuspecting of it, I felt someone grab my ankle. When I say I felt someone grab my ankle, I don't mean that I felt someone kind of lightly touch it. I mean I felt someone put both of their hands around my ankle with the severity of an angry abuser and then I felt this horrible, horrible pain, like someone had just snapped my ankle in half. The pain was dissimilar to the pain I had earlier in the day. It burned and it felt like my foot had been detached from my body. It was an hour before I could put any weight on it or think straight, and yes, I still felt like I was bleeding profusely from my head.
Eventually, I had succumbed to the idea that it was nearly five am and I had to try to go to bed. I got up, shut off all the lights, turned on only the back porch light, let Greta Hayley out, and turned around to see a girl standing across the kitchen from me. When I say I saw a girl, I mean that I saw her as clearly as I saw the table in front of me, as I saw Greta go outside, as I saw anything else in the room. No, I was not hallucinating. I was not that tired. I am used to being up extremely late. I saw a full bodied person who looked just the same as you and me, no transparency to speak of, or and, ifs or buts about it. And I didn't just see her for a second. I saw her for several minutes. I just stood there and stared at her, taking in exactly how she looked so that I could search missing persons, or deceased persons records for her, because, since she hadn't spoken to me and given me a name, it was all I had.
Although she wasn't standing next to me, I could tell she was somewhat tall, somewhere around 5'8 or so. She weighed around 125-130 pounds. She was very shiny. I know that sounds funny; it did to me, too. At first I thought she was wet, but I saw no water dripping off of her, so I couldn't tell for sure. She had long, dark, wavy, not curly, hair that looked like she had shellacked it in hairspray, as it was glistening and immobile, that fell around her breast line. She was pale skinned, had gorgeous cheek bone structure, but her cheeks themselves were full and naturally rosy. She was wearing red lipstick, and although she probably had other makeup on, she looked fresh faced, like she did not. Her eyes were a bright, seemingly unnatural color blue. She looked to be around eighteen or nineteen, but I had a suspicion that she could be older and she looked young for her age, as the way she was built indicated that she was probably more early to mid twenties.
She went away on her own and Greta was ready to come in. I let her in and we went to bed. After getting comfortable and cuddling into bed, shutting off the light, and hoping I could sleep when I felt like blood was pouring out of the back of my head, I started to hear a dripping sound. Frustrated, I got up figuring that something in my freaking bathroom, which is on the other side of the wall from where my head is at on the bed, was leaking or I hadn't turned a facet off well enough. After searching my bathroom, the house, and making sure it wasn't raining outside or nothing was dripping, I came to the conclusion that it was not an actual problem. This left me with the conclusion that the girl must have been wet, and although I couldn't see her at the moment, was dripping in my room. The sound never did go away, but eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up today feeling like my head was still bleeding, that I had been impaled in the back of the head, and like my ankle was broken. Thus why I didn't really do much with my day. It's unbelievable the kind of pain that comes with feeling like you've been whacked over the back of the head when you really haven't. I tried to make something out of my day, but my body was not having it at all. The less I forced myself to move around, the less it hurt. I can see fine and everything, but there's just this pressure on my head. I realize, though, that's it's not me having an actual problem. Like I said, if it was me, I would not be able to articulate anything and would be pretty sick and in the hospital by now, since this started nearly twenty four hours ago.
I have searched high and low and I believe I found my girl. This is the first time I've not been positive, because the only thing that isn't bang on about her are her eyes. They are a greenish-blue. However, her eyes seemed unnaturally blue when I saw her, so she could have had contacts in or been trying to tell me something. I identified her first by her picture, which I always do, before clicking on the picture and finding out any information about her. I want to be sure and not put ideas in my own head. This particular girl, however, is 5'7, one hundred and thirty pounds, fits bang on with who I saw last night minus the eyes, and was found drowned with her ankle broken and a bump on the back of her head where I felt like I got it, although the medical examiner will not release her official cause of death. I'm not sold it's this girl since I'm still feeling the repercussions of not actually getting hit in the head, but unless she gives me a name, or I find out otherwise, I'm going to assume it's her for now.
Guys, please be kind to others and please be careful. There are a lot of twisted people out there who have no regard for themselves, or human life in general. I don't want any of you to be my next special friend. Please, please be safe, be vigilant, but don't forget to live your life and don't paralyze yourself with fear. Just think and be careful. I love you guys.
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