It's cheese sandwiches!

I was bored. And I wanted dinner. So I went upstairs and made some food. Cheese sandwiches. Since I am a five-star chef, I thought I'd share my recipe with all of you so that you too could enjoy this culinary delight.

First, gather your supplies. NOTE: If you spend more than 9.99 on a cheese sandwich maker, you are spending too much!

Next, cut the cheese.

Assemble your sandwich. I chose to add feta cheese to this delight a) because I was out of gorgonzola, my favorite cheese and b) I'm a five-star chef dammit! WE MAKE OUR FOOD FANCY!

Now, you must wait.

It was during this time that Old Pail came into the kitchen. He and the Mrs. had been watching Die Hard in the den and heard commotion in the kitchen and Old Pail, being the alpha male, came to investigate. He was then saddened it was only me, and began to beg for a cheese sandwich.

"OH LOOK!" I replied. "Our sandiwiches are done!"

Remove from machine and consume.

So there you have it folks. Enjoy tasty five-star cuisine right in your own home!

I had a very interesting dream last night. And in true Rachel-dream fashion, it was quite cinematic. So I wrote it all out. Maybe I'll analyze it. Maybe you will. Or just sit back and enjoy.


I'm in the woods, in the mountains. Everything is green, alive and beautiful. So misleading. There are six of us here. Not camping for the weekend. Trying to survive. Running from the dead, who are chasing us. Up here in the mountains I smell the grass and the pine and the running water in the creek. Back in the city, where we were for a while, all I could smell was the rotting bodies as they moved around outside of our little fortress in the basement of the department store.

I grab an empty bucket, the cracked one I can't haul water in, and my axe. We have several pistols and rifles, but we're saving them. It's hard to get ammo up here. And if the dead make it up here, last thing we want is for more to come at the sound of gunshots. I find a small, thin stick and twist it in my hair to put it up in a bun on the back of my head.

"Shane, I'm going to the creek." I call out.

"Not alone," he calls back, coming up next to me with a baseball bat in his hand. "I can find some more flat rocks anyway."

We begin walking. "Smartest idea yet, heating them in the fire and putting them in our blankets at night to keep us warm."

"I'll keep you warm, Rachel."

We smile and make our way to the creek. Once there, I set the bucket down and look into the water. "I see a few fish in my net!" I reach in and grab the string I rigged to pull the net closed before I pull it out of the water. I drag the entire thing up to reveal several trout. "Enough to feed us for at least a few nights!"

"Shhh..." Shane hushes me, grabbing his bat. I see him walk gently a few feet away from me before turning around. "RUN! AWAY FROM CAMP!"

I drop the next back in the water, pick up my axe and run. I jump over tree trunks and dodge branches, smelling that familiar rotten stench. It burns my eyes as it gets closer, but I keep running. I don't hear Shane behind me anymore, but I can hear a grunt and the contact of his bat with the skull of a Dead. I keep running. I know this hill well enough that I could get back to camp after the Dead are killed and gone. That's the rule, run away from camp so we don't drag the Dead straight to the others.

I trip over a tree trunk and fall to the ground with a thud. Then I smell it. I roll over to see a Dead standing over me, screaming. It's breath is the worst part. I swing my bat and close my eyes, feeling the spatter of black blood hit my face. I get up and pummel it's skull in with a few more hits. That's when I see Shane running towards me. "BEHIND YOU!"

I spin around and hit another Dead, nearly decapitating it with blows by the time Shane reaches my side. He takes me in his arms. "Four of them. How the fuck did they get up this far?"

"What if there was a cabin or something not too far away?"

"It's getting dark, we can't leave the mountain now. We have to fortify camp for the night. Come on. I found some bathroom stall walls a few dozen feet back, we can carry them back to camp."

We begin to slowly walk back to camp, stopping occasionally. It's tiring, killing a Dead and lugging metal partitions with you. We get back to the river and grab the fish before going back to camp.

My father and grandpa are getting the fire started. There is a few others. We tell them what happened and hand my father the fish to cook. Shane, grandpa and myself get to work using the bathroom walls to create a safe 'box' for us to sleep in, so we are prepared. Grandpa is a good shot, but he's old, so he does best in a 'blind.' He can snipe a Dead like nobody's business.

We get the fire low, having finished our work and our fish, and it starts to get cold. Dad and one other guy decide to take the first watch. With grandpa and the few others fast asleep, Shane and I crawl into a makeshift sleeping bag on the far end of the 'blind' and snuggle close together.

"We're not gonna make it."

"We will. We'll find it. Don't worry."

"Find what? My grandpa is old, he doesn't know shit."

"Rachel, it's okay." Shane kisses me. "It may not be real, but it's the only option we have anymore."

I wake up to gunshots. Shane and I scramble out of bed to see my father shooting a rifle towards the woods. "DEAD EVERYWHERE WE ARE SURROUNDED!"

Tucking my bat in the loop of my pants I sewed in for the purpose, I grab my two pistols and step out of the blind. I see the Dead and start shooting, killing one per bullet. I shoot several, then I run out of bullets. Tucking my guns in my waistband I take out my bat and start swinging.

Suddenly a woman's voice comes on the ham radio near the fire. "SHANE the army is coming, they are gonna nuke the whole mountain!"

Shane turns around and answers the radio call. "LAURA! WHY?"

"The mountains are full of the dead. They left the cities."

"THERE IS NO BOMB SHELTER!" I yell, killing another Dead. "There never was."

"THERE IS!" I hear grandpa yell from the blind, over the sound of the melee. "Down the hill!"

"Dad?" I turn around.

"Grab everyone, let's go!"

I take a woman's hand, and turn and run. There's a dirt path along the edge of the rock outcropping of the mountain, one that looks worn. Shane, Dad, Grandpa and another man (nameless/faceless in my dream) are following. Then I come face to face with a Dead. "NO!" I scream, hitting it with my bat.

But not before it bites the woman. I hear a gunshot, Shane takes her out. I turn back around to see several Dead tearing my father apart. Shane looks at me. "Close your eyes," he warns.

I hear a gunshot.

"GO GO GO!" Grandpa screams. "Just down there!"

The four of us left run to a small metal hatch. Grandpa opens it as the Dead keep running towards us. They are too close, Shane and I are beating them with bats and axes. Once the hatch is open we all crawl in, having to slam the door shut and lock it.

Once inside, it's a utopia. A full mini-bar. Independent air, water, plumbing, a food for ten for a year. I start exploring. There's battery power, self-sustaining generators, everything. There are board games and books and everything. There are bunks for ten people, and a chemical shower.

"Fucking shit," I gasp, picking up a book.

That's when I heard the BOOM of the atomic bomb. The shelter vibrates. Then I remember my father is dead. "Shane..."

Shane comes and holds me. "It's gonna be okay. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

I look down to see we are both covered in blood. It smells like rot.


This is where I'm gonna stop my dream, because it gets a little 'sexy' before I woke up this morning. In my dream, I could smell rot so distinctly. It was wierd. Maybe someday I'll write up my lion attack dream. It's an ongoing-series, about once a year since I was about 12 I had dreams about lion attacks and hiding, and the next dream would pick up where the last one left off...it was strange. Anyway...anyone wanna analyze this????

I hate hating myself. I just want someone to freaking fix me!

Sometimes I wonder, if people knew what I'd be willing to do for them, if it would change their minds.

It's been a crazy weekend.

Friday: wake up, do homework, go hang out with the ladies. Go to work. Go get so drunk I don't remember what happened really yet. Then go home, apparently beg more than one friend for a booty call before falling asleep in my clothes. Wake up with alarm to go to work during the FIRST SNOW STORM of the season. Go balls-deep shopping with my mom. Buy girly hats and mittens and boots. Mom and I went to Old Navy. Yeah. OLD NAVY. Wow.

Go to hockey game. Have a fucking blast!!!! So much socialization and yet I didn't really want it to end. What's happening to me???

Today: wake up, get coffee and printer ink, arrive home to find out that Grandpa came home from China yesterday and we are to go visit him. So my folks and I do. We get to sit through a slide show of the last month he spent as an ambassador for St. Cloud State University to Nankai and Binhai. Apparently at one luncheaon, the entertainment was for the chef to come out, blindfolded, and chop vegetables on the bare back of a server with a very sharp knife. No joke.

Then we got Chinese food. Yummy! Then it was off to see the movie Unstoppable. My mom loves distaster thrillers. I love stuff getting wrecked. My dad loves to laugh at bad acting. We all enjoyed ourselves.

Trip to the craft store to get yarn and an outfit for my father's finger bandage. Yes. Pictures will soon be posted, but suffice it to say there are now glow-in-the-dark googly eyes glued to my father's thumb cast.

Went to work. Had my boss listen in on ALL my calls in the last hour to help determine why the list I was calling was having such a poor conversion rate. Turns out I was doing mostly right things, but I wasn't assertive enough with getting pledge cards confirmed to mail out. So I got better. Then I hit the keyboard during a call, accidently hung up, and had to redail and apologize. Ugh. It's a bit nerve racking having your boss listen from across the room and send pop-up messages on your monitor DURING calls telling you what to do. But I learned a lot. At least I made three bucks in bonus.

Then I got let go 10 minutes early which was JUST enough time to get back in time for the 9pm airing of The Walking Dead. It was pretty awesome. But I'm feeling like there are just too many jerk-off rednecks that are going to survive the apocoplypse. I also got an email that there is one less test I have to worry about this week.

All in all, I've done a shit-ton of shit in the past three days. This is like, six months of socializing and out-of-my-room behavior for me. I'm tired and feeling a bit stressed now that I sit back. I think I'll just polietly decline any more outings until the next home men's hockey game in December.

I'm having very illogical feelings, and I don't do illogical. The feelings I'm having make no sense, and I don't know why I'm having them....but I am. Emotions are so useless, and dangerous. I've had feelings kinda on the same vien as these, but this is RIDICULOUS.

I just want to go back to the bitter, want to be single, want to be alone girl I used to be. Wanting someone is so inconvienent.

Happy Halloween

I should have known when I woke up feeling sick that today was going to be like every other Halloween in recent memory. I haven't had a fun Halloween since I was a kid, which is fucked up since I keep claiming it's my favorite holiday. Its the time of year where all the wierd cool shit is socially acceptable, where people like to hear crazy stories and tales out of my mouth. I become a commodity of sorts. At work, people actually come to me and ask me about things, hauntings or other stories. People actually know who the fuck I am and that I exist.

So yeah, this sounds like a pity party. It's my blog. Don't like it get the fuck out. Not like anyone reads this shit anyway. I just like to see what I'm going through in words. It makes it real. Like someday someone will see this and know I'm not just crazy, that I have a very real and legitimate reason to feel the way I do. Tell me you wouldn't feel differently.

When I was a kid I loved to get dressed up and go trickortreating. It was fun and spooky. Haunted Houses were great because I could just let myself have fun and react and it was okay. It was okay to do that kind of stuff with your family as a kid.

Then in high school, I kinda ignored Halloween, because I was at the age where it wasn't cool anymore. I would go to the local haunted house if I had friends who were working as ghouls that year, but it was more to support them than anything.

In college, I would occasionally go out with friends on Halloween to the Haunted House. My best friend was always around. Until she started dating her now-husband. Then everyone else started to slowly not matter to her anymore. But she did always make time for me, and I for her. When I moved to Montana, I had a roommate who would hang out. Okay, so she was a high school student, but at least she wanted to watch scary movies and entertain trickortreaters and actually wanted to do that stuff with me. Great.

I moved back home and any friends I had here were long gone, off living thier lives. They were married or left for grad school or for work. I was stuck living at home, desperate for a job, and literally trying not to give up and slit my wrists. Here I was with all these qualifications and skills that people had been impressed by and I couldn't get a job as a cashier at a grocery store. I couldn't make new friends. You tell me that sends the message of being worthy. I think not.

So nearly two years go by and my family threatens to kick me out, so I take the GRE and literally pick a grad program out of what I was somewhat qualified for, all the while expecting to not get accepted because fuck, I couldn't get a job, how the hell was I going to get one of ten spots in a grad program? Yet I did. I didn't get any assisstantships, which just means more debt and more ways to get fucked over later on, which is going to happen.

So I think I'll get back into the world, right? The first day of class everyone is really nice and warm and sweet and wanting to have study groups and actually asking me about myself. I'm included in group emails, and people made the effort to invite to me non-school related events. Most of which I attended. I get a job, a shit one but still. I work hard, my bosses love me because I make and exceed numbers. Most of my calls love me because I'm polite and warm without being too pushy.

But at the end of the day, I'm just numbers to my bosses. They don't even remember my first name. And after a while, the ladies in my classes just started to exclude me. I'd find out via facebook or them talking during breaks in class about all the things they did or are planning. That's fine, I'm used to being excluded. Very common for me. But when they asked me about Halloween, and then they asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes and I helped make the plans...then I got my hopes up. Only to find that they went earlier in the day.

Let's go back...the last few years I've had plans with others. I got all dressed up in costume, only to find out that the other people either 'didn't want to go'. No, that's the excuse I got. Nevermind I found out on Facebook they went anyway, without me. At least Frankie just stayed home that year. Because being a housewife is her deal. Ew.

Tonight I had plans, I got my costume on and I stupidly let myself get excited, even though all week I was anxious. I finally got over the hump and got hyped up. Then...I got ditched. As always. I find out they all went an hour earlier and forgot to tell me. So when I text to give someone a ride they were just leaving.

I'm in the car, in a parking lot, texting and bawling like a fucking loser when my father, who was doped up on meds, demands to go to the haunted house with me. So I take him, even though he was in pain the whole time. Because he felt guilty that I got ditched. We had a huge fight on the way home, because I thanked him for going with me, but that he didn't have to go...and he started giving me bullshit about tradition.

It's only tradition because everyone fucks me over.

Seriously, what is so fucking wrong with me that nobody wants to spend time with me? Am I that horrible? I mean, I know I'm not a looker anymore, but some of the most hideous looking people in the world have husbands/wives/kids. Not to mention the guy at work I've been building up a repoire with. I finally get the courage to casually ask him out for drinks...only to find out he started dating someone else with work with just two days before.

I've done the slut thing before, back when I had the body to pull it off (the reason I don't have that body anymore is a very long and somewhat related story...but I'm not going to get into that online). I've done the confident thing and the desperate thing and I just can't seem to make it work. Not for friends, not for romantic relationships. I've put myself in some dangerous positions before, like hooking up with the wrong kind of guy at a party, or letting a boyfriend hit me because it made him feel better..and yes I know that was bullshit but I stayed with him for a few months anyway. Yeah, I've done stupid shit, and I've done the right shit, and none of it works.

I just hate feeling so hopeless, worthless and useless at the same time. Ick. Yet I don't want to commit suicide, even though I can understand why someone would think that I would. And I've tried before. I've done the whole hospital thing, the recovery, the rehab. But I feel like attempting suicide or actually doing it would feel cheap and cheesy, and I still have just enough self worth left to think that I could do better. I haven't completely given up yet. I'm just trying to vent, to figure out how to be better, and maybe enjoy my favorite holiday someday.