Thursday, December 23, 2004


The promised pictures from Fairfield Hills:

Like I said.  Fairfield Hills.
A pictorial title page, if you will.

Peeling paint is creepy.
I can't remember anything particular about this building, but I think it's safe to assume something eerie happened here.

There is no one lurking behind this curtain.
Decor by Norman Bates's dead mother.

Where the zombie hands busted through.
I would like to say I had the guts to look through this window, but I was convinced something was going to grab my face, so took a picture of it instead.

Yes, there was an art installation like this in Oberlin for Intro to Sculpture.

In very tiny print, on the bottom, it says "Home of the Whopper."

4-H: Hellish screams, Hairy palms, Headshrinkers, Hatred for your mother?
I'm willing to bet they didn't take home any blue ribbons from the state fair. Or, if they did, they were promptly confiscated because they could be shredded and used to fashion a noose.

This is a tourist, not a nutjob.
Kai looking fabulous.

This is a tourist, not a ghost.
Kai looking fabulously spooky.

My real life head is not as disproportionate.  Right?  RIGHT?
Me looking like every single video on "America's Funniest Home Videos," where funny = dog in extreme close-up.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

If you clean up the 4-H room a bit, and maye cut back a few of the vines, it would be the perfect place to have your wedding, dontcha think?

BTW the way, my mom loves your blog.

Happy holidays!

~Mike M.

12:19 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Any mom of yours is a mom of, that's not right. At the very least, I love your mom. Anyway merry Christmas/happy Hannukkah/fertile Solstice/adjective Kwanzaa to you too! Enjoy the time off.


2:02 PM  

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