I’m bored, tell me a story.

 I’m bored, tell me a story. Oh wait, you’re just a text box.  You don’t tell stories unless I do.   I will tell you stories then.  Prepare to be amazed!

OK, well I saw my dad on the weekend, and my brother says to my dad, he says "Dad, what’s cracking with your facebook profile?  I haven’t seen much activity on there." and my Dad says back to him, completely serious look on his face, "Well, I’m just waiting to see if this facebook thing catches on before I start using it."    He said the same thing about microwave ovens 20 years ago. 

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Ages ago, like January, a bunch of us were at Galaxy World and we got our photos taken in those booths where you can pick novelty backgrounds and print your photos off as miniature stickers.  The kind that schoolgirls love.   I put my face on a midget dressed like a cowboy.  Matt was a teddy bear.  Omar was a thumb.  Matt said he was disappointed in her for choosing a thumb; he said it proved she has low expectations in life.  

I don’t know why, but what he said has stuck with me since.  How does choosing a thumb for your photo prove you have low expectations in life?  I don’t know, but somehow it sounds true.  Deeeeep.

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Now I have a spooky story.   It was a dark, dark night.  I arrived home, took off my shoes, and walked up to the back door.  A cat must have been sitting on the step, because I stepped on something squishy and furry and it meowed at me.   I was already a bit jumpy because I couldn’t see shit, but that freaked me out even more.  I finally got the door open and went inside the dark, dark house.   When I finally was all clean and pyjama’d and calmed down, I closed my bedroom door, turned off the light, and gratefully got into my dark, dark bed.  I got comfortable and closed my eyes…. but right then I heard a creak from right next to me.   It’s the sound my squeaky chair makes when I sit down on it.  It’s at my computer desk, about 2 metres from my bed.  Oh shit.  There’s someone sitting on my chair in my room.  They’re between me and the door.  I truly believed at that moment I was about to die and I couldn’t move.  The chair creaked again. I would have started crying but I couldn’t move.  Then I heard a strange sound…. it was the sound of someone drinking.  Oh shit.  There’s someone in my room… drinking my water?   Then I realised they were actually lapping at the water.  WTF?  Fucking stupid cat.  Fucking stupid neighbour’s cat must die.  I leapt up, grabbed my broom, and chased the fucking thing out of the house.  
 
I really hate that cat.  It’s always trying to sneak inside our house.  The neighbour who owns it says we shouldn’t leave the back door open all the time.  Who the fuck are you, lady?  Before you moved in we could have the damn door open whenever we pleased.  Jesus died for my right to leave the back door open.
 
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Another spooky story.  My dad moved into an old house that a lady had lived in for more than 70 years before she died.  She didn’t die in the house, but moved to a hospice shortly before her death.  She didn’t even have electricity in her house – I didn’t know people still lived like that.   Anyway, dad said it was kind of good because he got all brand new wiring put in, whereas lots of old houses have old bad wiring that causes problems.  The only problem he had was after he installed a doorbell, and it kept going off at weird times of night when no one was at the door.  I thought that was kind of creepy.  One time I asked him if it was still happening.  He said yeah, it still wakes me up in the middle of the night.  I said, maybe you should get an electrician to check it out, maybe the wiring wasn’t done properly.  He said "But the doorbell is wireless, Rebecca.   There are no wires.   It’s a wireless doorbell."   
Dun dun dunnnnnnnn…

Shut up, I found it scary.  I told James and he suggested we Ghost Hunt my dad’s house.  He says that about everyone’s house.