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“oooh i need junji ito to write me an essay” okay so youre a little baby so youre a little baby waby who needs mommys help
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Once a day, shadows briefly bring back to life the beautiful ‘Ghost of Ungru Manor’ Estonia...
Courtesy: Abandoned Places
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When my mother forgets a word, she is the queen of coming up with new words. Words that would take a third National Treasure movie to fully decipher. I was talking to her yesterday, and she said this: “You know the time for los jibbities is coming up. You must be so excited!” Oh, is it time for los jibbities already? I must have missed it on my calendar. Are we celebrating something? “Of course! We should all be celebrating, shouldn’t we?” OK, so los jibbities is a happy thing. It’s not like something is giving you the heebie-jeebies, which would have been my one and only guess. “Los heebie-jeebies? Now you’re making things up...and this is my show.” You’re right. The time for los jibbities is coming up. Is this a season? “Yes, the season for love. The season for pride.” OK, los jibbities. “Yeah, sound it out.” Los…jibbities. LGBTs! “Sí, mira cuz you’re gay!” “You couldn’t just say pride season? You couldn’t just… *laughs*
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My nana maternal grandmother who taught me swears had one of the most ridiculous pet names for her cat when I was growing up. For reasons known only to her, she simply called the cat: Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. The creature in question was an absolute love bug and lived to be almost twenty.
When I was dating my last boyfriend Brendan we ended up living with his mom briefly before we moved up north together, and his sister lived at home too. One day I was sitting in the kitchen and heard Brendan call teasingly to his sister, “Okay, Miss Kitty Kitty Meow Meow!”
His sister laughed but my head shot up. “What did you just say?”
Brendan ambled over to me, “Oh, it’s an old inside joke. There was this one day I was riding the bus to Charlie’s house and I heard this girl on the bus say her grandma’s cat was named Kitty Kitty Meow Meow. It was so stupid I rushed home to tell my sister. It’s like naming a dog Doggy Doggy Bark Bark.” He was hysterically giggling just relating this story.
I stared at him.
I said, “Charlie and I were on the same bus route.”
He blinked, his giggles tapering down and slowly started to frown.
“That girl was me. That is the name of my nana’s cat.”
It turned out that while Brendan, a year younger than me, had never met me before we both graduated high school, he had apparently sat behind me once on the bus and turned a brief snippet of my life into a meme with his sister. Then a decade later we met through Charlie in college and went on to date. We were both flabbergasted by this coincidence.
But there was one more twist in store for me. I told my family about the way our paths had crossed before we ever dated and they thought it was hilarious.
Then a few weeks later I got a frantic call from my parents while they were in California visiting my paternal grandmother.
“Hey guys, what’s going on?”
There was weird excited static and thumps as the phone passed around and I heard my dad in the background urging my grandma, “Tell her!”
My grandma said ponderously, “You know my cats name is Kiki.”
“Of course, it’s a really cute name.”
“Your dad wants me to tell you the full thing.”
My eyes widened. I could not believe what was about to happen to me but I knew it was coming.
“Her name is Ki-Ki Meow Meow.”
I got it on both sides. Both my grandmas, in different states, with no contact, had named their cats the same silly ridiculous thing. I immediately ran to tell Brendan who laughed so hard he almost threw up.
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BJ has a very clear understanding of Objectives unfortunately he lacks that level of comprehension when it comes to tactics methods procedures etc. Thus: his Behaviors.
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When I'm out in the garage working, Vice gets to tag along and hunt dust bunnies in the garage attic. I pause every so often to call him down, just to make sure he hasn't gotten into trouble.
He always has a Lot to report.
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"It's beautiful."
This has been living rent-free in my head since I finished the show. Now it finally gets to live.
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So my sister is on vacation and has sent me a photo of the store she was buying clothes in.

I'm going to lose it.
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can't believe the plot of leverage is literally 'man gets hired to be a project manager for Crime and then is forcefully adopted by the employees he doesn't want'
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oblivion is an abysmal game and everyone should play it
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ghost stories are alarmingly easy to spread tbh
when I was like ten I was walking back from the chip shop near my gran's house with a neighbour and we took a short cut down an alley which was enclosed by garages except for one part which was wire fenced and led to the electricity shack
and while I was walking I chucked a chip over the fence. the girl walking with me, C, reasonably asks why I did that
"oh, don't you know?" I say, as if I'm not equally out of my own loop
she shakes her head. the enclosed alleyway has no streetlights. it's after dark. the shack is isolated in the distance.
"a little girl who lived up on the court climbed the fence once on a dare. she went up to the shack and touched it, but there was a wire sticking out, and when she touched it, she got electrocuted and died, right there. if you come back in the daylight, you can still see the black mark."
[editor's note: the court was the smaller road off the side of the crescent, which was the one C's family and my gran lived on. the houses there were slightly more expensive and newer, almost all occupied by wealthy commuters to the city, where most of the crescent houses were occupied by retirees and locals who worked on the trading estate. naturally, crescent kids hated the court. houses there got bricked about once a month.]
"no she didn't," C says
I made up this story for absolutely no reason and with no plan, but I'm not gonna back down now. "sure she did. and if you go past on your way back from the shops and you don't leave her an offering, she'll follow you home through the streetlights. one flickers behind you, then the next, then the next, until you get home. and then the lights start to flocked inside the house. even if you turn out all the electrics before bed, it'll be too late. she's inside. and you'll wake up on the night and see her, and she'll be so awful to see it'll stop your heart."
[editor's note: the streetlights always flickered. this was because our neighbour monkey george kept setting the junction boxes on fire]
"I never did before and she never followed me home!"
"do you come down the alley after dark? or do you take the main road with the streetlights?" I knew she didn't use the shortcut, because I'd been the one to talk her into it that night. she was three years younger than me and scared of the dark.
C claims not to believe me, but she throws a chip over the fence too, and walks the rest of the way looking over her shoulder. I get to pride myself for the night on being good at scary stories, and don't think much more about it.
fast forward six or seven years. I'm back in town. I'm on my way back from the chip shop, taking the same shortcut home. ahead of me on the road are a couple of kids I vaguely recognise as old playmates' younger siblings.
they stop, and I watch one fish out three sweeties from the pack they're sharing. they take one each and throw them over the fence. they carry on walking.
I realise that this is probably my fault, as are any resulting pest control issues around the old electricity shack.
when I get to the fence, I throw a chip over.
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