FLIBBERTY BIBBERTY FOO. (that didn’t work at all.)
I had no idea this thing (that I’m about to ask you) was such a thing until I randomly asked Insta-stories yesterday (you might have already seen it), and got such an enormous response (you have might already responded), so I’m bringing it here today because clearly we need to unravel this life lobal mystery together. (you’re like, “what is lobal.” it’s actually not a word but I’ve had an obscure faux-dictionary growing in my brain since 1976. you know this.)
Do any of you have an ear lobe that basically molds together and seals back up after you take your earring out? (by the way, we still haven’t unfolded the tent. BUT I ordered a slightly bigger hoop yesterday from Madewell for the holidays, and will unfold the tent this weekend. I think.)
My LEFT EAR lobe almost always grows back together the second I take my earring out! It’s like a salamander with its tail chopped off. Boom, grows right back like a sick freak show.
Why does this happen!? Do you go through this, too? I had SO MANY yesterday respond, “Yes omg same!”
“And the popping sound! Uh, barf!”
“No and leave me alone.”
And then one of you mentioned something that never dawned on me before, but now it makes complete sense. I’ll try to describe it to you. (you’re like, “please don’t.) If you were to put your fingers on each lobe and gently (gently, I said!) press into the flesh, my left lobe has, like . . . something in it. Like a tiny ball in there, or an elf. And I’ve not given it much thought until someone said, “And all that scar tissue build up from stabbing it over and over!”
THAT’S IT! It’s a tiny amusement park of scar tissue. With an elf on a roller coaster. Figured it out!
Anyway I need friends and therapy and probably less coffee.
You guys I have the funniest-ever story to tell you. And it might not be that funny to you because “you had to be there.” But I’m sharing it anyway for the sake of internet content.
First of all, do you believe in ghosts? That’s a whole OTHER (not nother) topic, but let’s start there. So, I was at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church two nights ago, with a bunch of moms who get together once a month to drink wine, eat cheese and prep a dinner to freeze. This month we were making Christmas cookie dough to freeze for next month, yadda yadda.
Well, the church is KNOWN, like widely known to be haunted. It’s old. It’s made of stone. Has a pipe organ. Clearly haunted. There are two ghosts there, a little girl and a woman. Guys this info is in some official database of haunted buildings in the USA, I’m not making this up. So last WEEK there was a sighting. A real deal thing. And it’s all the talk at the church right now. It was early in the morning, 6am when a man who regularly unlocks the building for the day school (where the kids went to preschool) saw a woman on some steps right inside. Like, black dress and black veil. HI, TOTAL GHOST. And he looked at her long enough to really absorb her and make sure he was actually looking at her. Then he said to her, and I kid you not and I’m getting chills and about to barf right now, “I don’t have time for this.” He unlocked the door handle to his office, looked back and she was GAWN. VANISHED. SHE OUT.
How are you holding up?
So that’s part one of this story. All the women two nights ago were talking about ghosts and that particular sighting and getting super freaked out with our cookie dough. I absolutely loved it.
Part boo! I mean two:
So my friend Emily and I were walking out of the church together, and mind you – we’re holding huge mixing bowls, hand mixers, and like, four pounds of cookie dough in plastic baggies. That ish is heavy.
Well, Emily loooooves ghosts. She and her sister Liz like, constantly travel around the region and stay in hotels that are supposedly haunted. ON PURPOSE. They went to Springfield Missouri yesterday as a matter of fact, I should probably text her to make sure she’s not been eaten.
So as we’re walking out she said, “Before we leave should we look around?” with a sparkly sneak in her eye. And I go, “Well obviously yes but I’m going to pee my pants if we even hear a speck of dust.” So we walk through a big room and into a long dark hallway. Nothing. “Okay, we had our fun, let’s go,” I say to Emily. And she said, “Maybe we should go check out downstairs, where the little girl is sometimes seen,” her grin growing and eyes widening and my stomach flipping me off. So I said, “Well obviously yes but I’m going to faint and vomit and pass away if we even see a speck of dust.”
So we tip toe down the stairs. WITH EVERYTHING IN OUR HANDS. And the main hallway is brightly lit, but all the little hallways that stream off leading to Sunday School rooms are all dark. And obviously haunted.
And we stop at the little hallway, with the choir room right ahead of us (where the freaking little girl lives and WHY ARE WE HERE AGAIN???) and Emily said, “A lot of the staff say that in that room right there, they’ll close the cabinet doors when they leave, but when they come back the next day, they’re open.” And I say to her with my lower body on the verge of a mental breakdown, “I can’t hear anything else. Tell me more.”
Guys, Emily steps into the door frame of the Sunday School room and in an instant that felt like a year but half a nano, she completely collapses into herself and lets out a shriek of pure, primal terror. “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
And I #&*-ing run. I straight up bolt. I slip into fight or flight mode and I FLEW. Well, okay, I struggle-ran (remember all the heavy stuff I’m holding!) the opposite way in a fit of panicked, guttural pleas. I am absolutely certain she’s been eaten by the little choir room girl and we were about to die down there.
I reach the stairs and I hear her talking. TALKING TO SOMETHING. In this state of mind that has thrown me into a cauldron of the wildest of emotions, I start laughing. Because it’s all so absurd and I still can’t piece together what is actually occurring in my life. I turn and walk back to her and you guys, a SERIAL KILLERY MAN WALKS OUT OF THE SHADOWS. I’M SORRY WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW.
And in a near fit of tears we both stare at him, “Who are you????”
And he responds all nonchalant like it’s no big deal to stand in a dark room in a haunted hallway with your arms straight down by your sides all Shining style, “Oh, I’m just here to lock up once you ladies leave upstairs. I thought I’d just hang out down here and not be in anyone’s way.”
. . . okay?
We laughed. And laughed. And laughed so hard that faces reddened and distorted and tears poured from eye holes and stomach muscles cramped and knees began to wake up and remember their job of holding up a human and pee most definitely excited both our bodies. I’ve never laughed that hard in my entire life. I’m still laughing right now, literally right this second. Laughing. Crying.
However, I’m not entirely convinced that man was there “to lock up.”
On that note, you must share with me your ghost stories! Have you ever seen a ghost? Heard strange sounds in the night? Found odd objects where you didn’t leave them last like a detached baby doll head?
And oh, it’s not lost on me that the ghost in my book right now totally wears a black dress and a black veil. Hi, vomit.
Tell me what’s on your Christmas list!
Yeah, this is my antidote. How you like that?
I love knowing what’s on other people’s wish lists. Like, what are you getting your kids? I need inspo. Because so far all they’re getting is empty gum wrappers.
I’m headed back to New York next week to film some super fun Food Network videos for their new app! That said, I’m basically holed up at home with my gallon bucket of water, face masks, my book and my bed. These cells ain’t gonna turn themselves over!
Yes I behave like a grandma, why do you ask?
(p.s. is Gramercy Tavern worth a visit? I’m staying two blocks away.)
(p.s.s. what about ABC Kitchen? I’m super close to that, too.)
(p.s.s.s Or the Taco Bell across from Union Square Park?)
(p.s.s.s.s. just kidding.)