In anticipation of Halloween, I thought I would do a few posts about things that give me the creeps in one way or another. Okay, so that means they'll either be scary or so screwed up it's funny-scary. This post is a harsh reminder that not only do I not want to die but I really don't want to involve a funeral home in my death if I ever do (notice I say IF because I'm not actually ever going to die, right?).
What the hell is up with this creep hole!?
What kind of psycho plans ahead for their funeral at a place like this? And what terrible family members would agree to have your body go to this demon cave!? You'd really have to be the asshole of the family to get stuck at this joint.
How would they even fit everyone into this little crypt of a building? They'd all have to be lined up single file waiting to go in to check out your dead body with make up on and a pretty dress. Wakes & funerals are just so bizarre!
Unless you were a teen goth who died of sadness or maybe a distant steampunk relative who got crushed under a unicycle while attempting to time travel, would anyone be interested in having their dead body hanging around here? When I die, just chuck my body into the woods and let the wolves pee on me and chew my limbs off. That sounds a lot better than lying around this portal to hell pumped full of chemicals.
Here is the new diaper! Well, it will be on there for a couple of years until I can afford what I really want on this set - leather.
I was going to attempt to recover this set on my own but reminded myself that I would do the shittiest job ever so I farmed it out. I had a local woman (who was cheap!) do the hard work on this sucker. She used new fluffy foam stuff (see? I'm so useless I don't even know what it's called) and stripped all the stench and layers of dog hair away.
I found the upholstery fabric on sale for $2 a yard (regular $36 because it was an end of a roll!) so that was a huge bonus. I also sold one of the couches I had in the living room to put toward the cost. The buttons were done in scrap pieces of black leather and I think that really made a huge, yet subtle impact.
The arm that was all smashed to hell? Well, I tried saving that section and got nowhere. Someone had tried to glue all the smashed bits together in a redneck manner and it was nearly impossible to fix. If I had have been left to deal with that myself, I would have thrown the whole thing in the fire and moved on. Luckily I live across the street from a cabinet/furniture maker who can work miracles (all for no cost)! I took the base over to him and he managed to work a shitload of magic on it. He chiseled out all the broken pieces, re-glued them properly, clamped it for two days, epoxied it and then spray lacquered the area where he had to sand. It's not perfect but damn, it's pretty close considering how wrecked it was.
Re-attaching the chair to the base was not an easy job either. The shell of the seat and stool are made of fiberglass so drilling new holes and determining where the chair should sit in the frame would have been nightmarish. Luckily my old man is a genius and used a pin to painstakingly find the old holes and align the chair and screw it back on. That took about 3 hours or so and he was ready to kill me when he was done. Oh well, too bad for him for marrying a psycho like me. I'm sure he was using the seat & pin as a voodoo doll when he was doing it though, as I now have a sudden case of back pain that I can't explain. No, really.
(In case anyone cares, I spent around $250 for everything, after I sold my couch and put the money toward the costs.)
Every town has at least one really shitty wall mural, right?
This is one happening registry office portrayed here! This poor woman is worked off her feet looking after the requests of both the living and the dead. Some old steampunk/new gent ghost dude floats on in and he's all like, "Why helllloooooo there. Look at my monocle and pocket watch, oooohh!" Then she has to be a bitch and tell the guy it's going to take a while because she only has that enormous book to work with so he's going to have to wait like the other ghost guy by the window.
Then this dude walks in, all up his own ass, with a pile of deeds or something looking to just barge past the line. "I'ma get me summa dese here papers sorted so I's can git me more factory chicken farms on ma land!"
And who the hell is this mouth breather and why is his ear so small!?
Then this trendy beardo (who apparently now owns a fancy chocolate shop in Brooklyn) comes onto the scene offering the woman a seat. But wait! She'd just see that as a moving chair since that dude is a ghost and she'd freak right out, piss her pants and run! So this is a good reminder that when I see a glass move across a table on its own that I shouldn't be afraid. It's just a ghost who's trying to help.