Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Monday, April 11, 2011
MONSTER KILL OF THE WEEK
Monster Kill of the Week goes to Berek Johnson (28) of Tempe, Arizona. On Friday, April 8, 2011 Berek was tidying up his apartment and washing a few dishes while his girlfriend Ashley was at work. His kitchen cabinets always had trouble staying shut, and Berek had always just chalked it up to shoddy workmanship. But on this day, he concluded it was much more than that.
Berek is reaching for the last few pieces of silverware in the back of the dishwasher causing him to stick his head well into the appliance. A crash echoes through the kitchen and sends Berek's head into a collision with the counter above him. He scans the area for the source of the sound and spots a smashed plate across from the cabinet in which they are kept. Berek stares stunned at the broken remains of the plate before shrugging off the incident as somehow a result of his own error. He bends down to close the dishwasher and as he does, an entire stack of plates flies into the wall. Berek covers his head with his arms until the sounds of breaking glass cease. Peering cautiously through his limbs, he slowly stands up, when all at once the contents of every cupboard come soaring through the air. Berek throws himself to the ground and crawls toward his telephone. "Who am I gonna call?" he says out loud to himself. He starts to dial 1-800-555-2368 but tosses the phone away from himself when he remembers Ghostbusters is only a movie. The ghost throws the phone back, nailing Berek square in the face. "Enough!" Berek shouts at the ghost and he stomps away in a huff toward a small closet. Ripping coats off hangers and tossing them out of the way, Berek unveils a large vacuum. He drags it over to the scene of the crime and plugs it in. "Show yourself!" he starts yelling at the ghost, and it seems to taunt him as a cabinet door slams shut. "Alright that's it" he says as he stomps on the power switch of the vacuum. Berek grabs a bag of baking flour off the disastrous kitchen floor and detaches the hand extension of the vacuum. Keeping his guard up, Berek slowly moves in a circle around the perimeter of the kitchen until he spots another ghostly sign. Before he knows it, a geyser of water is erupting from the faucet. Berek sees this and launches the bag of flour in the direction of the eruption hoping to reveal the whereabouts of his ghostly intruder via powdery explosion. Surprisingly it appears to work for him and Berek aims the vacuum's hand attachment at the floury apparition. To his amazement the vacuum makes short work of the ghost. Berek pauses, then snatches up the vacuum and rushes it outside to the nearby dumpster and proceeds to bolt back into his apartment. Berek assesses the aftermath of his ghostly encounter and sighs as he says to himself "Ashley is going to kill me."
We'll see how effective Berek's method was in the near future. If it does turn out he effectively killed the ghost, I suggest that Berek might be who you're gonna call.
Berek is reaching for the last few pieces of silverware in the back of the dishwasher causing him to stick his head well into the appliance. A crash echoes through the kitchen and sends Berek's head into a collision with the counter above him. He scans the area for the source of the sound and spots a smashed plate across from the cabinet in which they are kept. Berek stares stunned at the broken remains of the plate before shrugging off the incident as somehow a result of his own error. He bends down to close the dishwasher and as he does, an entire stack of plates flies into the wall. Berek covers his head with his arms until the sounds of breaking glass cease. Peering cautiously through his limbs, he slowly stands up, when all at once the contents of every cupboard come soaring through the air. Berek throws himself to the ground and crawls toward his telephone. "Who am I gonna call?" he says out loud to himself. He starts to dial 1-800-555-2368 but tosses the phone away from himself when he remembers Ghostbusters is only a movie. The ghost throws the phone back, nailing Berek square in the face. "Enough!" Berek shouts at the ghost and he stomps away in a huff toward a small closet. Ripping coats off hangers and tossing them out of the way, Berek unveils a large vacuum. He drags it over to the scene of the crime and plugs it in. "Show yourself!" he starts yelling at the ghost, and it seems to taunt him as a cabinet door slams shut. "Alright that's it" he says as he stomps on the power switch of the vacuum. Berek grabs a bag of baking flour off the disastrous kitchen floor and detaches the hand extension of the vacuum. Keeping his guard up, Berek slowly moves in a circle around the perimeter of the kitchen until he spots another ghostly sign. Before he knows it, a geyser of water is erupting from the faucet. Berek sees this and launches the bag of flour in the direction of the eruption hoping to reveal the whereabouts of his ghostly intruder via powdery explosion. Surprisingly it appears to work for him and Berek aims the vacuum's hand attachment at the floury apparition. To his amazement the vacuum makes short work of the ghost. Berek pauses, then snatches up the vacuum and rushes it outside to the nearby dumpster and proceeds to bolt back into his apartment. Berek assesses the aftermath of his ghostly encounter and sighs as he says to himself "Ashley is going to kill me."
We'll see how effective Berek's method was in the near future. If it does turn out he effectively killed the ghost, I suggest that Berek might be who you're gonna call.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
My Thank Yous & Graduation Speech.
This is the speech I wrote, I was always on the fence about giving it because I'm not a public speaker. I would have A.)Stumbled B.)Talked so low no one would have heard me. C.)Cried D.)All of the above. So here it is.
Thank you to Joe for believing I was meant to be a part of this school
Airene and Vicky, with how many students you encounter, I find it amazing that you still manage to greet everyone by name when you see them. It makes us feel special, so thank you.
To all of our instructors…
Ms. Goveia. I know we wouldn’t have survived the rest of the year without going through your boot camp first. I know you say people usually only thank you for kicking their butts, but I love you for more than just that. You’ve made an impact on many areas of my life outside of makeup and I appreciate that.
Ms. Hernandez. Thank you so much for always making sure your students are on the right track even after we leave your class, and for being such a fun person to learn from.
Mrs. Schoolhouse. Thank you for being so filled with knowledge and always sharing that knowledge with us. Also for being such a comforting and encouraging human being.
Mr. Graham, who is not nearly as scary as one might think. Thank you for telling us when we did things wrong as well as when we did them right, and always making us laugh when you come creeping by the classroom.
Mr. Knight. Thanks for trying your hardest to cram as much information as possible into 2 days before going to Egypt. It really did help.
Mr. Valdes. Thank you for taking over for Mr. Knight and making sure we excelled through our last month of school.
Mr. Kiss. Thank you for always showing us several different ways to achieve things. For sharing your awesome amounts of knowledge with us and going out of your way to make sure we succeed and understand. And we can’t thank you enough for not only teaching our class, but your other class at the same time. It couldn’t have been easy, but know we were all very thankful to have you for an extra month.
Angie and Jackie. We were a small class, but we were a good one. Thank you both for making this the first time ever that a class has felt like family to me.
Thanks to my friends for still being my friends when I return home and always cheering me on.
My family. My Dad, Mom, Nana, Aunt Jeannie and Cristina. I can never thank you enough for supporting me through this year. The absence of any one of you would have made this impossible. Hopefully I’ll make enough money doing this someday that I can support you all in return.
Thank you to Joe for believing I was meant to be a part of this school
Airene and Vicky, with how many students you encounter, I find it amazing that you still manage to greet everyone by name when you see them. It makes us feel special, so thank you.
To all of our instructors…
Ms. Goveia. I know we wouldn’t have survived the rest of the year without going through your boot camp first. I know you say people usually only thank you for kicking their butts, but I love you for more than just that. You’ve made an impact on many areas of my life outside of makeup and I appreciate that.
Ms. Hernandez. Thank you so much for always making sure your students are on the right track even after we leave your class, and for being such a fun person to learn from.
Mrs. Schoolhouse. Thank you for being so filled with knowledge and always sharing that knowledge with us. Also for being such a comforting and encouraging human being.
Mr. Graham, who is not nearly as scary as one might think. Thank you for telling us when we did things wrong as well as when we did them right, and always making us laugh when you come creeping by the classroom.
Mr. Knight. Thanks for trying your hardest to cram as much information as possible into 2 days before going to Egypt. It really did help.
Mr. Valdes. Thank you for taking over for Mr. Knight and making sure we excelled through our last month of school.
Mr. Kiss. Thank you for always showing us several different ways to achieve things. For sharing your awesome amounts of knowledge with us and going out of your way to make sure we succeed and understand. And we can’t thank you enough for not only teaching our class, but your other class at the same time. It couldn’t have been easy, but know we were all very thankful to have you for an extra month.
Angie and Jackie. We were a small class, but we were a good one. Thank you both for making this the first time ever that a class has felt like family to me.
Thanks to my friends for still being my friends when I return home and always cheering me on.
My family. My Dad, Mom, Nana, Aunt Jeannie and Cristina. I can never thank you enough for supporting me through this year. The absence of any one of you would have made this impossible. Hopefully I’ll make enough money doing this someday that I can support you all in return.
Monday, March 28, 2011
MONSTER KILL OF THE WEEK
Monster Kill of the Week goes to Julie Garay (26) of Las Vegas, NV. On Thursday, March 24, 2011 after a six day week at work, Julie was finally awarded a day off to herself. She decides she needs some pampering and calls up her favorite nail technician Juanita for an emergency appointment.
Losing herself in conversation with Juanita, Julie doesn't acknowledge the disheveled man that stumbles through the salon doors. The man is quickly greeted by the salon manager who asks if he needs some help. But he doesn't respond, only a low moan escapes his mouth before he grabs at the manager and sinks his teeth into her neck.
Julie is rudely ripped from her relaxing day and pleasant conversation by the terrified shrieks of patrons and employees alike. She turns around in horror to only to be met by a shower of blood across her face as the man (who is now obviously identified as a zombie) tears a chunk of flesh from the salon managers neck like a rabid dog. The manager drops limp to the floor and the zombie gentleman sets his sights on Julie. She tries to process what is happening as fast as she can. He grasps at Julie but she fights back, knocking him off balance. The zombie falls to the ground joining his victim and struggles to get his footing again. Just as the zombie makes it to his feet, Julie charges at him with a diamond nail file. She jabs it repeatedly into his left eye socket. His body stiffens and then collapses.
Julie then walks over to the salon manager who is hanging on for dear life, clutching at her bleeding neck. Julie kneels down next to her, and with a sympathetic look says "sorry dude" and plunges the same diamond nail file through the managers right ear. "Better safe than sorry."
On behalf of Las Vegas, I would like to thank Julie for remembering to eliminate those who have been bitten. If we could all remember this, the spread of zombies may not be quite so rapid.
Losing herself in conversation with Juanita, Julie doesn't acknowledge the disheveled man that stumbles through the salon doors. The man is quickly greeted by the salon manager who asks if he needs some help. But he doesn't respond, only a low moan escapes his mouth before he grabs at the manager and sinks his teeth into her neck.
Julie is rudely ripped from her relaxing day and pleasant conversation by the terrified shrieks of patrons and employees alike. She turns around in horror to only to be met by a shower of blood across her face as the man (who is now obviously identified as a zombie) tears a chunk of flesh from the salon managers neck like a rabid dog. The manager drops limp to the floor and the zombie gentleman sets his sights on Julie. She tries to process what is happening as fast as she can. He grasps at Julie but she fights back, knocking him off balance. The zombie falls to the ground joining his victim and struggles to get his footing again. Just as the zombie makes it to his feet, Julie charges at him with a diamond nail file. She jabs it repeatedly into his left eye socket. His body stiffens and then collapses.
Julie then walks over to the salon manager who is hanging on for dear life, clutching at her bleeding neck. Julie kneels down next to her, and with a sympathetic look says "sorry dude" and plunges the same diamond nail file through the managers right ear. "Better safe than sorry."
On behalf of Las Vegas, I would like to thank Julie for remembering to eliminate those who have been bitten. If we could all remember this, the spread of zombies may not be quite so rapid.
Monday, March 21, 2011
MONSTER KILL OF THE WEEK
Monster Kill of the Week goes to Ashley Gorba (24) of Burleson, Texas. On Saturday, March 19, 2011 thanks to a fluke of orbital mechanics, the moon was closer to Earth than that it has been in more than 18 years. The biggest full moon of 2011, dubbed a "Supermoon”.
Most people were so awestruck by the sheer size and brightness of the moon that night, they couldn’t even hear themselves think over the constant chatter surrounding the majestic “Supermoon.” But, if the hordes of people gathered on every neighborhood street that night could have held their tongues for just a moment, they might have been able to hear something else. Perhaps an agonized snarl, or maybe a distant howl. Because, you see, that “fluke of orbital mechanics” didn’t just make the moon “super”.
Now, hopefully it’s no secret to you that yes - werewolves are real. If you’re just finding this out, I suggest you pay attention…
Late Saturday night Ashley was on the last leg of her three hour trip back from Austin, TX where she‘d just attended a rock show. Just herself and a mix CD to keep her company. Jack’s Mannequin’s “Swim” is playing at a low volume, allowing Ashley to hear any important sounds on the highway, and on this night, the modest volume of her music helps save her life.
Ashley instinctively takes her foot off the accelerator when she hears an eerie sound. Not human, not a vehicle, animal perhaps? Her car coasts down the empty highway, gradually slowing as she scans the landscape in front of her from behind the safety of her windshield. Ashley sees nothing, hears nothing, and assumes she’s probably just becoming weary from the long drive. She presses her foot against the gas pedal and focuses on a vision of her bed - it’s less than an hour away, “I’ll make it” she says to herself.
SSCCRREEEEECCHH!!! A puff of smoke engulfs Ashley’s vehicle as she slams on the brakes, bringing her car to an abrupt and violent halt. “WHAT THE HELL!” she exclaims, while trying to gain her composure. Ashley whips around frantically, checking the view of her surroundings from every angle possible, trying to find whatever it was that so brazenly dashed out across her path. She wants to get out to check if she actually hit whatever it was, but something in her gut tells her not to. Instead she rolls down the driver side window and sticks her head out as far as she can, trying to see if any information can be gathered about what just happened. Ashley can’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary, and the tension slowly leaves her body. She leans her heard on the steering wheel for a second and takes a couple deep breaths. If this was Ashley’s mind playing tricks on her from being too tired, she’s definitely more alert than ever now. Knowing this, she decides to resume her journey home. With her mind alert and window down, what she hears next is unmistakable.
“OWWWWOOOOOOO!!”
Ashley quickly flings her head to the left, and sees the massive beast hurtling toward her. She scrambles to get her window rolled up while simultaneously slamming down on the accelerator with all her might.
“OH SH-” she begins to scream, as the monster collides with the driver’s side of her car, the impact spinning it nearly 180 degrees. Foot still firmly planted against the gas, Ashley soon finds herself blazing down the highway in the wrong direction as a claw tears through the roof of her car as though made of tissue paper. Ashley hit’s the brakes with everything she’s got, launching the wolf off the top of her car. It lands on the pavement in front her, but the car still has a lot of momentum behind it and continues on, over and past the wolf. Ashley turns around to see the beast glaring back her, less than stunned from the impact.
Being no stranger to the occult, Ashley knows the beast she’s facing isn’t your everyday run of the mill wolf. This monster made those wolves look like stuffed chihuahuas. Now, twenty-four year old women don’t generally carry shotguns and boxes of silver bullets with them to concerts. So what do you do when you’re faced with a werewolf on supermoon steroids? The only thing left to do, hope to god you can mangle it to death.
Ashley throws the car in reverse and charges at the werewolf as fast as the vehicle will allow. In a matter of seconds the wolf and the back end of Ashley’s car crash together, yet she keeps on driving, wolf still gripping the trunk. Realizing she can’t drive backwards with a werewolf on her trunk for much longer, Ashley decides she’s only got one option left. Keeping the accelerator pressed to the ground she angles her car toward the highways barricade and smashes into it at nearly 100 MPH, pinning the monster between the now mangled car and concrete siding. The airbags deploy. Ashley awakes in a daze and manages to twist her body around to look behind her. As the fog lifts and Ashley’s eyes clear up, she watches as the upper half of the “super” werewolf slumps over and slides off the demolished back end of her car in a gory mess.
She exhales a massive sigh of relief. Ashley searches for something in her pocket and pulls out a cell phone.
“Triple A. How may I help you?” a voice on the other end says.
Ashley is quiet, then responds. “Yeah… I’m gonna need a tow truck.”
Congratulations Ashley! Not only did you face off against a wolf on roids and win, you did it without those fancy bullets from Underworld. We couldn’t be more proud.
Most people were so awestruck by the sheer size and brightness of the moon that night, they couldn’t even hear themselves think over the constant chatter surrounding the majestic “Supermoon.” But, if the hordes of people gathered on every neighborhood street that night could have held their tongues for just a moment, they might have been able to hear something else. Perhaps an agonized snarl, or maybe a distant howl. Because, you see, that “fluke of orbital mechanics” didn’t just make the moon “super”.
Now, hopefully it’s no secret to you that yes - werewolves are real. If you’re just finding this out, I suggest you pay attention…
Late Saturday night Ashley was on the last leg of her three hour trip back from Austin, TX where she‘d just attended a rock show. Just herself and a mix CD to keep her company. Jack’s Mannequin’s “Swim” is playing at a low volume, allowing Ashley to hear any important sounds on the highway, and on this night, the modest volume of her music helps save her life.
Ashley instinctively takes her foot off the accelerator when she hears an eerie sound. Not human, not a vehicle, animal perhaps? Her car coasts down the empty highway, gradually slowing as she scans the landscape in front of her from behind the safety of her windshield. Ashley sees nothing, hears nothing, and assumes she’s probably just becoming weary from the long drive. She presses her foot against the gas pedal and focuses on a vision of her bed - it’s less than an hour away, “I’ll make it” she says to herself.
SSCCRREEEEECCHH!!! A puff of smoke engulfs Ashley’s vehicle as she slams on the brakes, bringing her car to an abrupt and violent halt. “WHAT THE HELL!” she exclaims, while trying to gain her composure. Ashley whips around frantically, checking the view of her surroundings from every angle possible, trying to find whatever it was that so brazenly dashed out across her path. She wants to get out to check if she actually hit whatever it was, but something in her gut tells her not to. Instead she rolls down the driver side window and sticks her head out as far as she can, trying to see if any information can be gathered about what just happened. Ashley can’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary, and the tension slowly leaves her body. She leans her heard on the steering wheel for a second and takes a couple deep breaths. If this was Ashley’s mind playing tricks on her from being too tired, she’s definitely more alert than ever now. Knowing this, she decides to resume her journey home. With her mind alert and window down, what she hears next is unmistakable.
“OWWWWOOOOOOO!!”
Ashley quickly flings her head to the left, and sees the massive beast hurtling toward her. She scrambles to get her window rolled up while simultaneously slamming down on the accelerator with all her might.
“OH SH-” she begins to scream, as the monster collides with the driver’s side of her car, the impact spinning it nearly 180 degrees. Foot still firmly planted against the gas, Ashley soon finds herself blazing down the highway in the wrong direction as a claw tears through the roof of her car as though made of tissue paper. Ashley hit’s the brakes with everything she’s got, launching the wolf off the top of her car. It lands on the pavement in front her, but the car still has a lot of momentum behind it and continues on, over and past the wolf. Ashley turns around to see the beast glaring back her, less than stunned from the impact.
Being no stranger to the occult, Ashley knows the beast she’s facing isn’t your everyday run of the mill wolf. This monster made those wolves look like stuffed chihuahuas. Now, twenty-four year old women don’t generally carry shotguns and boxes of silver bullets with them to concerts. So what do you do when you’re faced with a werewolf on supermoon steroids? The only thing left to do, hope to god you can mangle it to death.
Ashley throws the car in reverse and charges at the werewolf as fast as the vehicle will allow. In a matter of seconds the wolf and the back end of Ashley’s car crash together, yet she keeps on driving, wolf still gripping the trunk. Realizing she can’t drive backwards with a werewolf on her trunk for much longer, Ashley decides she’s only got one option left. Keeping the accelerator pressed to the ground she angles her car toward the highways barricade and smashes into it at nearly 100 MPH, pinning the monster between the now mangled car and concrete siding. The airbags deploy. Ashley awakes in a daze and manages to twist her body around to look behind her. As the fog lifts and Ashley’s eyes clear up, she watches as the upper half of the “super” werewolf slumps over and slides off the demolished back end of her car in a gory mess.
She exhales a massive sigh of relief. Ashley searches for something in her pocket and pulls out a cell phone.
“Triple A. How may I help you?” a voice on the other end says.
Ashley is quiet, then responds. “Yeah… I’m gonna need a tow truck.”
Congratulations Ashley! Not only did you face off against a wolf on roids and win, you did it without those fancy bullets from Underworld. We couldn’t be more proud.
A graphic I found, stating the myths & realities of a "supermoon".
Seems to me “werewolves on lunar steroids” should be listed under “reality” as well.
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