Awesome Art

Most of the gorgeous gothic and faery art on this site can be purchased through the Gothic goodness (www.begoths.com) link and The Gothic Faery Store ( http://www.gothicfaerystore.com/) link on the right.

You can purchase the dolls at either site but if you go to the begoths site you can join the Crypt Club. By joining you can get some good deals and some products that are only available to members.

Be sure to check out the art page at the begoths site if you like horror themed art.

Cocaine is Asinine

I hate cocaine. I also hate heroin. And I hate all those other stupid drugs that have nothing to do with thought exploration and perspective. Or they take your perspective to a place that is asinine. I've never done any of these drugs but I've heard stories about them. Drugs that pump you up or shut you down. I think the only time I ever really fought with Audrey was when I gave her hell for trying cocaine. She never did it again.

I've been the only person at a party that wasn't snorting cocaine. Many times. Too many times.
I've been told that cocaine is like being given a confidence boost. And I believe it. Hanging out with a bunch of coke heads is like hanging out with a bunch of scenesters or hipsters or whatever the fuck they're called. But I suppose a lot of 'sters are probably coke heads. Maybe that's what makes them 'sters, I don't know the details on that scene.

Anyway, they're all flying on confidence thinking they're the shit. Always talking about music, fashion, whatever, but never slowing down long enough to have a thoughtful thought. They talk and talk, seemingly trying to out-cool one another all the while trying to inhale their own face. It's not cool, it boring. And the constant sniffling is annoying. Everyone's ego is flying about the room, untouchable. Including my own, because I didn't shove shit up my nose. And that makes me THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM.

How many parts?

I always worry that girls are going to think I'm hitting on them if I try to make friends with them. Partially because I've never initiated a friendship with a girl before. They usually happen because I hang out with their brother or their boyfriend. And partially because I'm part lesbian. But I'm never on the prowl since I have a boyfriend. And I've never had a girlfriend so I wouldn't know how to pick up a chick anyway. Maybe when my boyfriend leaves me for Hong Kong I'll figure it out and go find some hot chick to make out with.

Rusty gets oiled

First of all, the boyfriend comes with me to the party. This was unexpected and delightful. Fucken finally, some participation. He even enjoyed himself so I can cry "bullshit" the next time he uses some lame "I don't like people" excuse to get out of a social occasion. I think he especially enjoyed asking the cab driver to pull over to let me hurl out the door after our 5am departure. As long as you make it outta the party before you puke, it's all good.

We arrive at the party and almost immediately get handed a bubbler by this couple I've met many times but don't really know. They were regular customers at the video store where I worked. I always thought they were the shit, based on the little I knew about them. Plus she would always wear jewelry around her head like the Childlike Empress in "The Neverending Story." I love shit like that.

I crack a beer, take the bubbler, chat a bit then have a sit down. I realize I haven't smoked in two weeks when it hits me that I also haven't properly socialized in more than 6 months. And then it hits me. People mill about around me, I exist on the edge of conversation. The couple from the store sit next to me as my boyfriend and I discuss the awesomeness that is Stan Lee and his soapbox. I'm not sure they're on the page with the topic. The boyfriend impersonates the exuberant Stan Lee, they laugh.

I'm caught in a daydream. I worry that I'll never be able to relate to anyone ever again. I'm too far gone into my social retardation. I sit back. The girl half of 'the couple that are the shit' turns to me and says "I'm kind of lacking in social skills since I never go anywhere. You can probably tell, eh?" HA! Awesome. That is precisely what is going through my mind at that exact moment. I didn't tell her that she channeled my thoughts but did tell her I wouldn't notice because I too am socially rusty. My freak out ended there. Nice.

After that we existed in connection with one another while her awesome boyfriend told me they would always try to get my till at the video store because they thought I was nice. See, I excel at being pleasant. Therefore I am awesome. And they are awesome. The rest of the night she would occasionally react to things I said or did. She would turn to her boyfriend and go "see" because I kept doing/saying things she did/said/agreed with. Too bad we're both too socially inept to know how to start a friendship without seeming too forward. Well, at least I am.

The rest of the party was awesome with me being my old party self. Even right down to me drinking whatever leftover shitty beer I could find in the fridge, hence the hurling. The rad couple left early for work purposes but I continued to shoot the shit and philosophize with some old co-workers, customers and entertaining new cohorts. I had a bit of a rough start but I only spent about a half hour being a gimp. After that I was socially capable until I sat in the comfy chair. Good times. And the boyfriend and I are fairly certain we know who to look for if we're interested in being swingers. (Not THE rad couple but another rad couple). Possibilities are fun.

Revenge

I love revenge songs. I only know three, but I love them all. I need to find more so I can make a revenge compilation. I will give it to assholes and they will think I am their friend. Then they will listen to it and feel the need to look over their shoulder when they walk down the street.

The three I know, in no particular order are:

1.) The Mariner's Revenge Song by the Decemberists
2.) Waitress by Tori Amos
3.) Buenas Tardes Amigo by Ween

I probably know more but I'm too daft and daydreaming to realize they're about revenge.

Severed

My sober time has given me a lot of time to reflect on the things I normally don't think about. Like past relationships that no longer exist. One such relationship was with my best friend in high school. Audrey and I were together as much as possible for 5 years. We met when I returned to my hometown to finish high school in grade 11. It was basically the two of us with a bunch of guy friends. We tripped out together constantly, could out-smoke all the boys and had a fine time of it. We eventually had more girls join us in our debauchery, but Audrey and I were the mainstays.

We had our own language. We could look each other in the eye and know what the other was thinking. It wasn't uncommon for us to be on opposite ends of a room with the both of us bursting out with laughter at the same moment. It confused our other friends but they got used to it. Sometimes we'd let them in on it, though they wouldn't always get it. Audrey and I were very close and we became close with many of our other friends. We were a tight knit family, but I guess that happens when you share and philosophize and bare your soul with the same group of people night after night for years.

I found my old autograph page from my grade 12 yearbook. Audrey wrote a note in her typical fashion. I can hear it now as she would have spoken it.

Okay Eve,

This is how it is.
EVERYONE KNOWS MAN!
So hey Eve are you gonna miss me?
Well I hope so, cause I'm gonna miss me too.
Well have fun when you move but not too much man.
Like you said Eve it's been papers and mold and everything in between babe.
Well you're fucken cool babe, and you better keep in touch cause if you don't, I'll die.
Have a good future with lots of drugs man.
We're gonna end up living in the lonely desert with Jim Morrison's spirit.
With all of our ACID.
Love ya always Man,
Audrey

(Yes, we were mildly reminiscent of Alice and Chris in Go Ask Alice. We also lived in an isolated small town - we were behind. It was the 90's but it was also very 70's)

She was a year behind me in school. I went away to college while she finished grade 12. She came to visit and I came home every holiday. I ended up dropping out of college (business school - I just wasn't interested at the time) and moved back home for a year to figure out what I wanted to make of myself. Audrey and I were still the best of friends. She even went to the same school as me when I went to film school. We had an apartment together and would tag along to each other's class events.

But something happened very early on that year. Audrey began to get very strange in her intoxication. She was becoming a mean and uncontrollable drunk. She wasn't drinking excessively or anything but when she did she would be rude and obnoxious. She started trying to pick fights with me. She would jump out of moving vehicles(slowing for lights) to get away from us (our other hometown roommate and close friend, Russ). She would get on a chair in one of the rougher bars in town and start making fun of people on the dance floor. She even once smeared ice cream all over our kitchen. Partying with her usually ended with Russ and I struggling to keep her out of trouble.

After the winter break Audrey didn't do too much partying, instead concentrating on her studies. I didn't try to pressure her into it, I just let her be. We'd also lost a good friend to a heroin overdose. He was the only one that had been involved in such serious drug use but it still made for some heavy soul searching. I wasn't doing too much on the drug front, at least not to the excess of high school and the two years following. I knew that Audrey needed to get away from that lifestyle. I also had suspicion that she was feeling very separated from her family. She came from a very close family with 3 brothers who all still lived at home. I was fairly certain that some of her destructive behavior came from that separation.

At the end of the school year it came time to pack up and say our goodbyes. I had decided not to go home for the summer and check out small town Southern Ontario for a while. Audrey and I had a nice evening talking about how we were great friends and we'd miss each other and write and call during the summer. I never heard from her once that summer. I called and she wasn't home, I wrote and she never wrote back. When I got back to school I found her in the cafeteria. She was pleasant but distant. She ignored me the rest of the year under the pretense of always being in a rush to get somewhere else.

I know friends grow apart but she was very deliberate at separating our ties. I suspect she felt the need to lose me as a friend to get away from the drug atmosphere our relationship was born in. I just wish she would have told me. I would have understood, she was my best friend. I was confused and insulted for a long time until I spoke to one of our other old drug friends. He said she didn't have anything to do with him anymore either. He ran into her when she was with her boyfriend. She exchanged pleasantries but didn't even make any introductions. He was one of her best friends (and still one of mine).

We've all moved on from our days of excess. We still enjoy drinks and some bud(I'm still trying to moderate this one). Maybe even an occasional mushroom trip (like once a year occasional). But no more chemicals. I'm still good friends with 3 of my old cohorts but they live in Winnipeg and Edmonton (the ones in the peg get up to far more trouble than I do these days).

I guess in my reflection I can forgive Audrey for not telling me why she cut me off so suddenly. I can forgive her for making me feel unwanted and insecure. I just hope I'm right about why she let me go. I hear she's married now and back in our hometown close to her awesome family. I hope she's happy, although I doubt she'd be unhappy. Who knows, maybe she'll show up for the 10 year reunion we planned for this summer for our small family of friends.

Social High

I almost fell off the wagon last night. I had to convince myself that if I smoked I would waste my whole high thinking about what a weak loser I am. Which I would have cause that's how I think when I'm high alone. I think about how much time I waste being high because I never get anything done when I'm high. But if I just stopped thinking about how useless I am then maybe I wouldn't be useless. Oh, it's useless. I'll just keep quitting for now. Except for Saturday. I'm jumping off the wagon on Saturday.

That's right, I've been invited to a party. Woooooowhoooooooo! I can smoke at a party. I'll be too busy talking my face off to let my paranoid thoughts creep in. Plus, how can I be wasting my time at a party? I won't be. So it's all good. I should lay down some ground rules. Like no smoking unless I'm being social. But if I really really want to smoke alone then it has to be on a weekend and after dark. That should be good. Then I won't be smoking too much so when I do, I won't feel guilty about the time suckage. But with the exception of Saturday, I have to stay on the wagon till Dec 9th. Ground rules come into effect after that.

Rock Star for Hire

Turns out I've been preparing all my life for rockstardom. All those years spent ingesting LSD, mescaline and mushrooms while sitting in a haze of smoke. Top it off with film school and I'm about qualified for nothing. Who knew you couldn't get by on good looks and a 100% track record for talking people down from bad trips. Are there any jobs out there for daydreaming and being pleasant. I'm quite good at being pleasant. When I used to interact with other humans I was told as much quite often.

Too bad I couldn't get a counseling job based on my experiences as a shit head. Talking people down has made me rather good at helping people talk through their anxieties. Unfortunately I didn't notice this skill until I had already gone through school. Now I can't afford it. Plus I have a comic book to write and I don't want to sit on it any longer. I've had this particular story brewing for 3 years. Plus I have two more full on epics that I hope to someday get to write. Man I suck. I get so stressed about having no income that I waste so much of my unemployment not writing.

I'll have to talk myself through my anxieties about having a shit job. Otherwise I'll harp on myself for never trying hard at anything, all the while depressing about the crappy minimum wage job that I will eventually have. I worked in a video store for awhile and got so down about my dead-end situation that I had no creativity. I'll have to constantly remind myself that my comic is the reason for my low-responsibility job and the key to bettering my situation.

I've always half started and abandoned everything. I guess I've been conditioned on the instant gratification of tripping and just being alive in this era. I'm such a lazy shit.

Who the Fuck is Harrison?

Why do I have to go to a big store to get the big peanut butter? I don't like the big stores. They have big racks filled with annoying celebrity rags. I'm just here for the food man. It's like commercials at the movie theatre. I'm just here for the movie dammit, not to decide on birth control. Show only previews at the movies and put recipe books in the racks at the grocery store.

If Harrison Ford didn't make 20 million for three months of his life then maybe they wouldn't have to sell advertising time at the movie theatres. Maybe if rags with his face plastered all over it weren't in the grocery store line then he wouldn't have to pay so much in personal and home security to guard against papparazzi culture destroyers.

Remember when you were a kid and there was Han Solo and his look alike ancestor was Indiana and you were like "Who the fuck is Harrison?" Famous people are too famous. It doesn't matter how well they play the part, I still just see Tom Hanks stranded on an island with a volleyball.

There's one reason I have come to prefer serial television to film. If they play the same character for long enough I can see them as that character rather than some dipshit actor who left his wife for a garden tool, punched out their assistant or made a sex tape with a waiter.

Thank the Gods for T.V. on DVD. At least I don't have to see commercials or entertainment news at home.

Buffy Speak

You know you're starved for interaction when a small conversation with a stranger brings a sense of relief. Today I was sitting in a coffee shop being a dork and reading my very first Buffy the Vampire Slayer novel, when a woman my mother's age leaned over and apologized for interrupting.

Her: "Is that a Buffy novel."

Me: "Ah yeah, it was $3 at chapters so I thought I'd give it a try" (As if to justify my dorkness)

Her: "I just love the show, I didn't know they had books out. I was so sad to see it go."

From there I showed her the list of novels at the front of the book and told her about the comics. It was a short conversation but I felt an odd sense of relief. I guess it was that someone actually talked to me and about a subject I enjoyed. Most people just stare at me and make me uncomfortable. Maybe it's my black and blue hair or my faerie with butterfly wings necklace (cause it's awesome).

But back to Buffy. Although it's my first Buffy novel (The Book of Fours) it's not my first Buffy related read. I've read The Philosophy of Buffy, a collection of essays. It's a good read although there were three or four essays that I would argue or shorten to a paragraph. I've also checked out a couple of comics; an Oz side story (just OK), Tales of the Slayers (good), and Fray (entirely excellent as it was written by Joss Whedon). I'm such a dork that I have the same haircut as Fray except for the colour (hers is blue with red).

Joss Whedon is one of my heroes. The man is a storytelling genius. He created an entire universe with storylines that could tear your heart up or make you bust a gut. His characters are so enthralling they move his stories to places mere plot points could never take you. His character archs are so amazing that you sometimes find yourself stunned when comparing a character's first appearance to their last. Look at Wesley in season 3 of Buffy as a frilly women's blouse and then again in Season 5 of Angel as a hardened warrior and spell-caster. Everything that happened to that character affected him and created a new man. Look at Cordelia in Season 1 of Buffy as snobby shallow bitch then in Season 3 of Angel (specifically in "Birthday") and you realize what a hero she's become. This is the level of awesomeness I would like to achieve in my writing.

I also love that these shows (Buffy, Angel, and Firefly) are like watching live action comics. I sometimes like to envision each frame as a comic panel. And who can complain when Buffy started using the scorpion kick in season 6 (Trinity's signature move in The Matrix). Joss Whedon's shows are like my security blanket. I can watch them to keep me company or to take my mind off the bullshit. I've converted so many people who thought Buffy was stupid because they saw the movie or thought the title was stupid. My boyfriend's a bigger addict than me. I once lent Firefly to a friend who put off watching the last episode for weeks because if he watched it then there would be no more Firefly. Another friend bought me the soundtrack to the musical episode for lending her my entire Joss collection. I'm leaving a wake of fanatics wherever I go.

Note for skeptics: If you decide to give Buffy a try make sure to watch the first two seasons before deciding if you like it or not. Just watching one episode won't cut it for a skeptic. Build your character knowledge first. Season 1 is a bit fluffy but is much stronger when you watch it again after seeing a few more seasons. My boyfriend was convinced it was going to suck so he didn't like the show until halfway through Season 2. But he kept watching because he figured there must be a reason for my liking it so much. Now he loves it and enjoyed the early years on second viewing when he was more open to it.

My one compliant: (possible spoiler alert for people with deductive reasoning skills who haven't watched Season 6/7 yet) Who the fuck is Kennedy? As if Willow would date her. She's annoying and rude and in no way seductive. Willow is a witch and Kennedy has no charm. You can't attract a witch without any charm. Now Tara, she had charm. I don't care for the Kennedy character but I think casting had a huge part in the character suckage. Is the actress some producer's daughter or something? Join the We Hate Kennedy Club. Blech.

Past Life Regression Therapy

I have read this book and now I want to be regressed into my past lives. I want to know where my soul has been and what it's kept along the way. What lessons have I already learned and what have I failed to learn? Do I have any soul debts to be repaid or collected? How many lives have I lived?

The Meat of a Dream

Yet another strange dream. I was at a Wiccan ritual with many people. There was some sort of circular ritual with a waterslide that ran the circumference of the circle with the entrance to the slide at the south. I did not enter the slide, I continued to walk around the body of the circle. The ritual seemed quite normal to me as though I had participated many times before.

Instead of finishing the ritual I sat down to eat. I piled my plate full with mostly roast chicken. I had two drumsticks and a breast. I started to mow down on the meat all the while thinking about the fact that I'm a vegetarian. I continued to eat the meat feeling that I was taking necessary action even though the more I ate the more disturbed I was by my own actions. Finally someone sat across from me and took the last drumstick and ate it. I thanked them for helping me out.

I have an idea of how this dream may be interpreted. The circle represents the circle of life and the waterslide is the access to jump into it. I have passed on jumping into life. Instead I sit down and partake in activities that are against my beliefs. This could represent my relationship with my boyfriend. I continue to exist in this relationship with a man who is fueled by negativity and believes that anything good in life is entirely fleeting and only a distraction from life's ever mounting pile of shit. I do not agree with him and we argue about it occasionally when he gets to be too much to handle.

I have been in this relationship for two years and feel quite stuck. I am filled with worry that he will succumb to destructive behaviour if I try to remove him from my life. I do love him and he is my best friend but he definitely hasn't helped me maintain a positive outlook on life. I am working on reviving that in myself and from time to time it does rub off on him. But I think my dream is telling me I need some help. Either I need someone to take part in my boyfriend's life to help him see some good or I need him taken out of my life so I can continue to work on myself. I wonder if that person will come along soon. I hope it's my boyfriend finally deciding to deal with his responsibilities, problems and emotions.

Doomed for Retail?

I'm about a week away from flirting with the pizza man for free slices. I see the way he looks at me, I know I could do it. It's proving to be quite difficult to find a non-film job when you have a resume stacked with film experience. I suppose they all assume that as soon as I get a call for film work I'll be quitting to go back to the glamour of film. Yeah right.

I've stated very clearly in my cover letters that I am leaving the film industry and I've still only gotten three interviews. Maybe they can't fathom what kind of skills I may have honed chasing after actors all day long. Maybe I am doomed to a life of retail. Catering to the delicate egos of actors does put me in a good position to deal with the demands of customers. But dammit I don't want to!

For my next attempt I've tried a new approach. Along with my resume and cover letter, I've attached a short story. It's the story of me, my writing and why I want the job for which I've applied. I'm sure alot of employers will read it and ask themselves "Who is this clown?" But I'm not going to worry about it. An employer who responds to the story is more likely the type of employer I'm interested in working for. It's a good story too. It's kind of like a kids story.

I've actually only handed out one resume with the story. I'm quite certain about what I want my day job to be, I just don't have any experience in the field. I just think being a baker would be perfect. Waking up before sunrise and being home before lunch are two big bonuses. Add on the meditative work of baking, the working with my hands, the not sitting at a computer so I can do it when I get home before lunch to write the afternoon away. Top it all off with the yummy smells and treats to be made. I just love making things. Having something to show for your time spent like a script, a piece of art, or loaves of bread and trays of croissants is mmmmmmm.....satisfaction.

Poor poor Batman

Batman, I'm coming over and we're going to hang out, maybe drink too much coffee and eat chocolate and peanut butter.

Boredom or Mono?

I know what Wayne Campbell was talking about when he said he thought he had mono for a year but it turned out he was just really bored. Most of the time I wish I could fall asleep in an instant and dream through the boring moments. At least my dreams are more interesting. Too bad I couldn't just go into a coma and wait it out. But I suppose that wouldn't work since you have to create your own fun. Man, I grew up in an isolated northern town and I've never been as bored as I am in Vancouver.

Sometimes I think about stopping and chatting with the people who ask me for change. You know, ask them their story. I don't have any money to give them since I'm presently unemployed but maybe they wouldn't mind having someone to shoot the shit with. I could definitely stand to shoot some shit with someone other than my boyfriend. I suppose I could afford to take them for a coffee and chat out of the rain. Maybe next time that guy tells me he's gathering some food items together I'll ask him what's up.

I should really work on learning to approach people. Hopefully once I find a job I'll be interacting with the people. My problem is that I hate small talk. I hate all the stupid useless questions that people ask each other. "Hi, how ya doin'?" "Nice weather we're having." "Blah blah blah." I'd rather just launch into a real conversation with passions, emotions, ideas and such flying everywhere. Half the time people don't even wait for the expected "oh, I'm good" or whatever they use as their standard wall they've built to hide themselves. It's like you really have to know someone to give them a real answer. If they're not your best friend you've given them too much information.

Having said that, I've become the queen shut-in. I offer nothing to those I barely interact with. I hardly even look people in the eye anymore. I think I do it subconsciously to avoid mundane chatter. I even speak quietly with few words as though to signal how difficult it will be to talk with me. I know I will have to get through countless conversations filled with small talk until I finally meet someone who intrigues me. Maybe I shouldn't have taken all those psychedelic drugs in high school and college. Maybe then the norm wouldn't be so damn boring to me.

Oh well. Too late now. I guess the next step will be to make a point of looking people in the eye. Not smoking the bud all the time should help with this step. Then a job. With a job will come money. With money, concerts and trips to the comic shop will be afforded. I can talk to the people at the comic store, although they'd probably think I was weird if I asked them to go for coffee.

Animal Guides

I keep having dreams about animals. It may be in direct relation to my currently reading Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. It's about the Gods who have a human and an animal form. But maybe not. Maybe there's another reason I'm dreaming of animals. I am going through one of my biggest personality changes since puberty. I must do some dream research.

Last week I dreamed of a large boa type snake in my apartment. Last night I dreamed there were small furry animals all over my apartment. People and animals also kept peering into my patio windows. I wanted them to just fuck off cause I was naked. I didn't try to hide my nudity but I wanted them to go away. It was the small rodent like creatures in my apartment that bothered me the most. They were there for a reason but I couldn't figure out their purpose. I finally picked up a possum and held it in my arms. In doing this I realized that the animals were there to guide me. Then the possum turned into a little girl with blonde wispy hair. She clung to me like a small child but I seemed to be aware that her intelligence and mystical abilities were far superior than any other human being. I then drifted into consciousness and dreamed no more.

2 Days in the Fog

I think it's about time for my annual break from the bud. One of my longtime friends will be visiting me for two days so I will schedule my break upon his departure. I must drag him down to the New Amsterdam Cafe for a spliff to send me off to sobriety. I'll start with the usual month and go from there. That'll put me back on the bud by December 9th.

Shit, I better go hit the bong.

Paranoid Delusions

I am a chronic pot-smoker. I have smoked enough weed that paranoid delusions are a part of my personality. These delusions generally get in my way of having an enjoyable existence. That and my lazy-ass self centered boyfriend who would rather wallow in his own misery than even attempt to participate in life. But that's a whole other bag of bullshit.

No, today I want to make mention of my turning my paranoid thought-processes into a useful writing tool. During one of my usual stoned daydreams gone wrong it occurred to me to step outside myself and test my perspective. I love changing my perspective but have a hard time doing so when I keep to myself for long periods. I need to discuss my ideas and my delusions to either work through them or hear how stupid they sound when I say them outloud. But last night I managed to come up with a new way of gaining perspective.

While thinking my paranoid thoughts, I shifted gears and attempted to change my personality for a short time. I pretended to be someone other than myself. I thought about why this new "me" would be having these thoughts and how she would allow them to affect her. In this character I allowed the paranoia to be real with a valid reason. From this experience I found my anti-hero, the title character of my graphic novel. I spent 5 solid hours writing last night.

Hopefully the next time I spend too much time in my own head I can regurgitate the experience into a short story or another character perspective. Maybe this whole idea of not having any friends close enough to hang out with will turn into a new way of writing and some needed psychotherapy.

Oh, but I so miss the me I get to be when I have friends.

You're Never Too Drunk for Spellcheck

Ha ha, spellcheck wanted me to change Motherfucker to motorbike.

What an asshole.

Well that was a motherfucker

But I've been drinking so I'm finding it hard to care. I wrote some stuff and then there was a crash. But I'm ok. Not a scratch. It was probably all bullshit anyway. I think there was some humour, but whateves, I'm over it. My boyfriend's in the other room watching the commentary on Sleepaway Camp and giggling up a shit storm. It's probably Judy and the most spectacular 80's side ponytail ever sported.