The Amityville Horror Gingerbread House

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Hello all and welcome to another long-awaited entry to the Holiday Hell Show. This weekend I decided to step outside of both my comfort zone and my man card zone to construct a gingerbread house. I am not very crafty but when inspiration strikes I try not to ignore it because who knows when or if it will strike again. On Saturday, I listened. Here’s what happened.

For the longest time I have been a huge fan of Ray Keim and the website, Haunted Dimensions. All you need is thick weight paper, a color printer, some glue and scissors and with a little kindergarten recollection, you will have a 3-D model of your favorite horror setting. It’s the nerd in me that makes me want to stand on street corners and shout the website url over and over until the government wraps me in blankets and leads me into a padded van.

So, on Friday I was in my office struggling for something different to cover for the website because, that is what I should be doing at work, right?! Then it hit me. Kinda like this. Why don’t I use Haunted Dimensions as the model for a gingerbread house? It had to work. It just had to! And what better design than the famous 1975 horror classic, The Amityville Horror. It was a movie that terrified me as a child and fascinated me as an adult.

HOOOOKAY! Now, I have never successfully constructed a gingerbread house. The last time I attempted was in Tiger Scouts back when Ronald Reagan was in his first term so it has been awhile. I still remember it today. We had to cover an orange juice container with icing and stick gram crackers to the sides to make it look like a house. I can’t remember the details but I do remember having to be hosed off in the driveway of the scout parking lot. So, this project manager doesn’t have a very good legacy of success.

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Here’s the plan. I have the layout of the Amityville House and in my mind, all I had to do was cut out the pieces, build the model, find gingerbread flat sheets, paste them on top and decorate as I desire. Seems easy, right? Yeah, no way. First problem was the fact that no one sells flat sheets of gingerbread. I don’t know if I made this up in my mind but I could have sworn that’s a thing. It is not.

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So, I had to bake the sheets from mother furkin’ scratch. I’m not lying, I had the iPad on the counter with YouTube guiding me through the basics of gingerbread making. There were eggs and warm butter and flour. It was Hell.

WHEN YOU SAY BAKING I SAY FUCK!

BAKING!

FUCK!

BAKING!

FUCK!

But, I made it and it actually came out okay. The size was right and using the model for shapes worked out surprisingly well. I only burned myself four times which is as rare as getting hit by a meteorite especially when pans are involved.

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So, while waiting for the building materials to cool I set out to construct the model. I figured it would be easy to just glue the gingerbread pieces to the model rather than thinking silly thoughts like making this 100% edible. I was going for looks here. Plus, if people knew what went into my baking procedures, they wouldn’t dream of eating this.

The model is very easy to build but unfortunately, I fail at scissor. I always have because it is half patience and it is half skill, both of which I neither have nor desire. So, not all pieces fit perfectly. There were some jamming and cursing that went into the skeleton but eventually it did come together. After all, it would be covered by gingerbread, frosting and Satanism.

Funny story, while I was finishing the model I heard a ruckus right outside the house. Immediately I went in search of my cat because she isn’t fixed and has been desperately trying to escape to find a male suitor. Well, somehow she succeeded. I don’t know how she did it but she did and was having loud cat sex in the driveway. Let me lend you advice, my friends. Never break up cat sex. There will be blood. And there was.

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A bit later after bandaging both hands and placing my cat in solitary confinement, I was back to proceed with construction. I figured the best way to glue the walls of the house was to keep constant pressure and no better way to do so than place four brake rotors around the structure because they can at least do something until I put them on my car. That’s another project.

It worked so freaking well I can’t even say more. Things like this never work well for me. Usually I get this far only to place kick the project in the backyard and go back to the couch to sulk in the warm glow of cable cooking shows. Maybe my crafty ways are coming back. I mean, my Christmas Sweater article from 2008 still gets like 600 hits a day thanks to Pintrest.

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Oh the roof was the part I was having the most anxiety about. It’s an odd New England style home and that type of roof doesn’t translate in Candy Land. I baked four gingerbread strips and glued them to the model roof. Thank God I didn’t already add the model roof because there was no way for the strips to stick at that angle. So I placed them on the roof model and pressed them for an hour. This project came together like lamb and tuna fish. I don’t get it. This never happens.

Now that the glue was dry and the structure sound, it was fun time. The decorating. I’ll be honest with you, after the long process I had just building this, I gave decorating a half-hearted effort. I used Twizzlers for the roof, vanilla icing for sticky spackle, pretzels for storm gutters, caramel squares to build the chimney, Tootsie Rolls for the logs to keep George warm and cut marshmallows in half to give a snowy appearance. All-in-all, kinda shitty. Completely forgot the bleeding walls that Edie suggested. That would have been awesome.

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So here you are. The house George Lutz claimed to be haunted by the same demonic forces which drove Ronny DeFeo to murder his family. Not exactly the Christmas spirit but I am not sure anyone has attempted to turn this iconic house into a jolly gingerbread house. But I have!

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Oh yeah, and cat? Eat ass.

And thanks to Dinosaur Dracula who does this stuff one million times better and funnier. This was inspired by my long love of that site and X-E. Thanks for reminding us it is okay to be a kid and enjoy the little things. Cheers!

Second Verse

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The fog of a crazy October has lifted and in its wake of black and orange we now come to a sea of green and red. It is time to toss the Jack-o-Lanters aside and look to nervous turkeys under tall pines which we will chop down, drag in the house, place in water and electrify. This time of the year blends two holidays into one and I, for one, am okay with that.

If there is one thing that being a senior account executive has taught me, don’t over promise your hobbies. The career has a crazy way of stepping in front of grandious plans like a cat photobombing the camera as I practice my cartwheels for YouTube. As hard as I tried to film, edit, buy, review, travel and photo, a new project with over-ambitious people reared the head of un-fun work and most of October was late nights and work trips. I am not complaining but I think we have all been there if this is the medium for recreation.

Now that my sad sack story is done, I am ready for two months of festive fun. And there will be fun! Expect the first ghost..er..video by midnight tonight. I have found a grocery store near me that goes shit-house mad with awesome Christmas party fun foods to review plus libations to cause embarrassment during the company holiday party. I have a bar to post these great eggnog drink concoctions now.

I Remember Halloween

Candy apples and razor blades
Little dead are soon in graves
I remember Halloween” – The Misfits

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This 2014 Halloween season did not get fully going like I had hoped. I want to say it was because I have finally grown up into a mature adult and waxing my Porsche, day trading and Saturday evening book clubs have taken the place of watching Halloween for the 5,723rd time, but that is just not the case. The real truth is my company is slightly restructuring and that metamorphosis begins with people in my position. Since September I have been in at least eleven states and times two in hotel rooms. Going out to business dinners is about as thrilling as pressure washing the side of the house and if I hear the acronym “EHR” one more time, I might tie my wrist to my testicles and enter into a Frisbee-Golf competition. Lets just say, work has come and killed my Great Pumpkin.

Looking back, however, it hasn’t been a total loss. There were some spooky trips, met some amazing people and done some amazing things all in the name of The Spook Show. The great novelist, J.W Ocker, toured me around Boston, I flew down to Key West and hung out with a real live voodoo doll named Robert, visited my buddy Travis from Bayou Babylon and his wonderful wife, Crystal to shoot some creepy scenes in a graveyard, made a cameo in The Sexy Armpit’s Halloween Show, had Ben (Juggernaut Cave), Brian (Review the World) and DJ D (Retro Ghouls and Shocks) over for a weekend to review tons of spooky crap and well as Blair Witch 2 and last but not least, I was the guest host on the great DJ D’s radio show, Dark Entries.

Oh, also was blown away by Matt’s annual Halloween countdown over at Dinosaur Dracula.

I guess when you list it out, it’s been a pretty busy season even though I feel like it was half-hearted thanks to such a busy schedule. I still have lots to cram in like a Q&A with a give away from J.W. Ocker and his new novel plus a look at the amazing artist Thomas Boatwrite. I bought the coolest commission ever and am excited to push his stuff to the next level.

OH! And mother frickin’ Final Cut Pro crashed so many times I have finally given up on it. I’m done. It’s a neat piece of software but a twenty-minute video shouldn’t take eight hours to export. And Apple wants me to buy it again for $300. Nope!

So, enough with the pouty puss talk. I am sorry for an empty Spook Show this year, 2014. Work really was the boogeyman. I owe you something…but what?

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Hrm…I have one Pop Rocks Pumpkin Patch Orange left that I was saving to put in the company coffee pot on Friday but I think I owe it to you. But how?

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Oh I do love you. I will dump this in my three-hour old cup of coffee and drink this just for my penance for a below average Halloween season. It’s all for you, Damian! It’s all for you!

Okay, I am coming right back.I just wanted to get this off my chest and say I’m a little sorry. Just a little.

 

Spooky NC With Bayou Babylon

Hello my friends. Today is a special day here at the Spook Show because I can share with you my amazing trip to visit my buddy Travis who you might know as Bayou Babylon down in the Gulf of Mexico, Mobile Alabama. Both he and his wife, Crystal, are some of those most amazing people I have ever met and together we had a blast. From the history to the food to the 300 beers, I will say Travis is a lifelong buddy who is stuck having an semiannual guest crash his pad.

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This trip, Travis took me to a creepy and the notoriously haunted Church Street Graveyard where certain legends rest. Or sort of rest. This is also the burial spot of Joe Cain who is of super hero status to the people of Mobile, Alabama. After the Civil War ended, the Union soldiers banned many Southern cultures and celebrations. In defiance, Joe Cain dressed in Native American garb, wore beads and drunkenly drove his horse and buggy around Mobile starting up the celebration of Mardi Gras. To this day, the start of Mardi Gras begins from the grave of Joe Cain where his unknown “widows” gather to weep over his site and then dance out of the cemetery starting the celebration. Pretty awesome!

Later we visit the Boyington Oak which took forever to locate. Thanks to smart phones, we found the spot where Charles Boyington is buried. In 1835 he was quickly accused of murdering his friend Nathaniel Frost and was hung. Right before he was executed he stated that a mighty oak would spring from his heart to prove his innocence. Well, he is buried on that spot where a pretty large oak now resides. Locals claim to hear cries from the tree and the cemetery nightly so…that’s crazy!

To wrap up the night we attended a beer crawl which probably shaved off a few years of our lives. So much beer. So much beer. You’ll see.

I hope you enjoy this Spooky NC: Mobile, Alabama! The next one will be mostly myself chatting about the experiences on an abandoned railroad track. The footage isn’t the best but it was absolutely terrifying. I’ll just have to show you.

EDIT

Just to clarify a bit, Joe Cain is credited with bringing Mardi Gras back to Mobile post-Civil War. Mardi Gras has been celebrated here, in one form or another, since 1703, but was cancelled during the Civil War and banned by the occupying Yankee troops. – Travis aka Bayou Babylon

The Haunted Barn 1988

I grew up in Marietta, Georgia just north of the city of Atlanta. Back in the 1980’s and 90’s it was one of the biggest suburbs which was about as close to a Tim Burton version of middle class America as you could get. Every house was similar, the grass was cut on Saturday mornings while the kids watched cartoons until eleven o’clock or when high school academic game shows came on. That was a sign to get outside to ride bikes. The ball games were always on an outside radio and errands running families crowded Sears or whatever was on their lists. It was an awesome place and time to be a kid.

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One of the Saturday staples was the Chattahoochee Nature Center located right on the bank of the Chattahoochee river. It was a place of many great childhood memories for me ranging from a five-year old to a young soldier at home on leave. The Chattahoochee Center was the place I spun around so fast on a tire swing, I puked in the parking lot and Mom made me take off my pants in front of my preschool class and lay down in the backseat of the car on the way home. Which, of course, resulted in more puking. A place where my best friend Simon teased a goose causing it to chase him around the park, instantly transforming him from a manly seventeen year old boy into a screaming twelve-year-old girl. A place where my other buddy Johnny got so high he went to pee in the river, lost his footing causing him to uncontrollably slide down the embankment into hip deep into the water resulting into the infamous cry of desperation, “OH NO!”. (I still laugh at that today) And it was also the place where I took a long walk with my Dad the night before I headed back to base to be deployed to a combat zone. The discussion we had that night I would not like to have again.

I think my fondest memory of the Chattahoochee Nature Center would be on the month of October, 1988. That was a pretty magical Halloween season for a number of reasons. One, I was finally dressed as something for Halloween my parents invested more that twenty dollars on. I was a knight with full body armor, shield and a sword and aside from the LA Gear sneakers, I was pretty convincing. Also, that year I was able to trick r treat alone without the parental supervision. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal because the neighborhood was barely a mile long.

Just about every weekday night during the month of October, the family did something Halloween-ish. Whether it was carve the jack-o-lantern or decorate the yard, as long as the homework was done, we celebrated. This is probably why I am thirty six with a Halloween Spook Show. Just a theory.

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One fateful night, Dad read in the paper the Chattahoochee Nature Center had a haunted attraction featuring the “Haunted Barn” which was run by the local Walton High School. In those days, I regarded high schoolers as grownups so right away I knew this attraction was going to be something of the serious note. My Dad, however, thought much the opposite. In fact, he thought that this was more of a fun and family attraction which possibly had nature conservatory lessons mixed in with a ‘Trick or Treat” motif. That was far from what we would be experiencing.

The Nature Center was a Saturday morning place where every morning Dad and I would drop off bottles and newspapers to the recycle center and feed ducks. That Thursday night the mood was much different. I can still remember pulling into the gravel parking lot with lit jack-0-lanterns spacing the lot. There was hardly anyone there and for good reason because it closed at 9:00 sharp and at 8:30 on a school night most kids had been through the attractions and on their way…to therapy. I had homework and Dad’s work ethic would never allow for fun before responsibility. Makes you wonder what happened to me?

We paid a “donation”, I think. There was no fee that my Dad can remember (we talk of this often every fall season). Just followed the path on the candle lit road which led to the barn. That barn, which was always a place of discovery and cuteness throughout my elementary days with field trips and summer camps, was transformed into “THE HOUSE OF SATAN”.

I shit you not, in Marietta Georgia, The Chattahoochee Nature Center named their barn, “THE HOUSE OF SATAN”.

I have yet to meet a peer or a long time friend who remembers this but I have family who can validate. And for whatever reason had no problem taking me into “The House of Satan”.

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I will say, looking back on this event, the high schoolers did it right. They recreated the famous Exorcist scene when the priests read rites which makes a rotting girl screech in horrific tones. The next room had a person rocking in the corner as a defiled and chopped up corpse lay on the floor. After that, a room where a wondering girl kept trying to pull me from my Dad to come with here into the heavens. Holy shit, I remember this with such detail I even remember her shoes. Her shoes!

Dad laughed. That is what I remember but for me, this was horrific. Every room led to more nightmares my brain was not ready to comprehend. That is until we met the stairs. The stairs went up to the loft of the barn and at the top stood a figure.

We didn’t know if we were supposed to proceed up and I remember looking at my Dad. He studied the figure long and hard then looked at me with a shrug. I grabbed his flannel shirt and we head up. But then the figure spun around and bolted down the stairs as if it too was being chased by something horrific.

We miracled ourselves straight through the back door and was chased by a hooded figure almost halfway to the car. I can still to this day remember screaming without care. When you scream without care it is something you never forget. As a child it is something to possibly look back on with a smile but never as an adult. It is animatistic in a way. My Dad stopped, laughing hysterically and so did the hooded kid who removed his said hood and thanked us but said that was where the attraction ended. He didn’t mean to scare us so badly and made an attempt to assuage my fear with a high-five.

I will never forget that night. Forever will Halloween be that barn with jack-o-lanterns lighting the way of a path and the orange illuminated barn filled with monsters and demons who scared me so badly the adrenalin put my feet to sleep. We dumb down so much in today’s society. I feel bad for the kids who will never get to experience something that made me a forever-fan of Halloween. That night forged a connection and even tough it scared me to down to the marrow and I loved it.

Thank God I didn’t have an easter experience. Those people are freaking weirdos.

 

 

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