I grew up in the middle of the woods, also known as, the place where everyone fucking dies in every scary movie, ever.

So, I never watched them.

In fact, up until college, I had only seen one scary movie my whole entire life.  April Fools Day. And then, Andy tried to convince me to face my fear by watching House of 1000 Corpses. I basically didn’t sleep for 3 months, and it ruined Chris Hardwick for me.

But, I developed this weird theory that if I could just try to do the things that terrify me, it would make me immune to being scared of them.

I’m afraid of tornadoes, so I thought I’d try storm chasing, but I couldn’t find anyone local.

I freak out at funerals, so I considered becoming a mortician, but it turns out, you need to be good at science even though they are already dead and you totally can’t make them re-dead if you fuck something up.

I am terrified of ghosts, so I decided to sign up for a ghost tour, only to have to cancel when I found out I was pregnant. I mean, the last thing I needed was a poltergeist sneaking in through my cervix hole and possessing the fetus so I give birth to a demon. That’s a no brainer.

But the truth is, I am not entirely sure how I feel about ghosts.

Aside from the fact that they, in theory, scare the shit out of me.

When I sit and think about them, which is often now that Weeds is over, things get murky.  I’ve always assumed all ghosts are scary, but there have to be non-scary kinds, right?  Like all the cool people we have known that have died?  I mean, in my head, I want to believe that human life is too complex and dramatic to just be over when you die.

Not all ghosts have to be murdery, right?

Didn’t Demi more get some foreplay from dead Patrick Swayze in Ghost?

I would love to be haunted like that.  Maybe ghost boys are better with clitoris’ than living boys?

My fifth year at Ohio State, I lived in an apartment all by myself.  Andy had transferred back to a school in our home town, we were on this weird on and off break, and he only drove down to stay with me on the weekends.

Surprisingly, I loved living alone at first, because it meant I could take my underwear off when I walked in the front door, drink lots of beer and leave my vibrators out on the kitchen counter. But, sleeping alone in a dark house kinda freaked me out.

I remember one night waking up to find the covers pulled from my bed, which, I’ll have you know, is not how I sleep.  I don’t care how fucking hot it is, that comforter is pulled up to my ears, and none of my limbs are sticking out.  Those are the rules to safe sleeping, everyone knows that.

A few nights later, I awoke to the feeling of my legs once again cold and uncovered, but more importantly, as if they were being shaken from side to side.  Like, something was touching my legs- OK FINE THIS SHIT JUST GOT REAL I’M CALLING MY MOM.

I moved out 3 weeks later, breaking the lease.  They tried to take me to court about it, but I made my lawyer call to tell them the apartment had ghosts, and if they wanted to put a video camera in there to tape me being haunted at night, they could, but I slept naked and that would be, like, really spooky, badly shaven porn.

When my friend Megan died, I became less scared of ghosts, and more obsessed with finding out where she had gone. I read books, searched online, and even went to see psychics, just trying to get answers about where she was and if I could somehow still see or talk to her.

Andy put up with that for about 6 months until he sat me down and asked me nicely to please stop being crazy, because it was starting to make him uncomfortable, plus he saw my psychic Brenda working behind the snack bar at the Roller Skating Rink during our friend’s son’s 7th birthday party, and according to him, real psychics don’t hawk red rope licorice or skate backwards to Regulators.

From that moment on, I stopped have ghost issues.

Until we got to our Florida rental house.  The first night, I woke up at 2am to pee and as my eyes were adjusting to the dark, I saw somebody standing in the doorway of my room.

Andy, oh my God, wake up!


Listen, there is either a ghost in this house or you are about to be raped.


There was a person standing in the doorway of our room and now he’s gone!

It’s dark and you were probably still dreaming.

Um no, I was dreaming about having sex with Elton from Clueless, not about a dark figure watching us sleep.

Maybe it was one of the kids sleep walking?

They are laying on the floor next to our bed, Andy.


He got up and searched the whole house, saw no one, and with an alarm on every door and window, found absolutely nothing was disturbed.

See, it’s fine, go to sleep or pee or whatever.

Can you come with me?

Ugh, yeah I guess.

Ok can you bring the kids?

They are sound asleep.

I know, but can you, like, just hold them or something? I hate to leave them alone in the room in case it gets all Paranormal 3 up in here.

Hold all three sleeping kids while I watch you pee?  No, I’m going back to bed.

So, I held it until morning and when it was finally safe to get up to pee, I ran to the bathroom to find I had started my period.

Which meant zero night peeing for the rest of the week, no matter how brave I got.  Nobody looks attractive inserting a tampon.  Not even to a ghost.

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