What's Really Scary

October is spooky month, and I am a lover of scary movies and "The Monster Mash" and the spirit of all things Halloween. Give me all the thrills and chills (just do not touch me when we are going through a haunted house, or else). However, I don't believe in ghosts and the boogeyman hasn't kept me awake in quite some time, so I started thinking about what the real scary phenomenons are in our lives right now, and I think this little list might just get your adrenaline pumping. Read on, if you dare.

First things first: my cell phone died and I was forced, against my will, to the Apple store this week. This was after I made a visit to the AT&T store, hoping in vain that they would be able to assist me, since they were the folks who sold me the phone less than 24 hours before the touch screen locked and refused to work. I consider the AT&T store one of the seven levels of hell, so it's saying something that I went there with any degree of hope or enthusiasm. I was turned away and told that I would need the help of the "genius bar," located at our ever-crowded Apple store in the nearby mall.

Someone will be right with you. Sooner or later.

As I found out, one does not simply go into Apple and conduct business. Oh, no. You must first put your name on the wait list and get yourself an appointment with one of these alleged geniuses. I was scheduled to come back in a mere four hours for assistance, which means I got to visit this technology emporium not once, but twice, in the span of an afternoon.

When I returned for my appointment and waded my way through the huddled, phone-crazed masses, I was told to have a "seat" at one of the long communal tables to wait for my technician. I use the term seat loosely here because, as I overheard one gentleman say (and I'm paraphrasing to keep it PG-rated), "Holy crap, you don't even have chairs in here. Just these little stools and whatever those wooden cubes are on the floor?" What kind of overcrowded, moneymaking dynasty would offer a paying customer a chair, after all? Sit on this 8 inch by 8 inch varnished square of slippery wood and we will be glad to assist you; your number is 1,895,741,213. And we are currently helping customer number 9.

Maybe the scariest part of the Apple store is when you realize what walking, phone ogling zombies we have all become. It was like a modern version of Night of the Living Dead, watching everyone mindlessly shuffling, hunched over their various sized screens, oblivious to anything else. I finally got my phone fixed just over an hour after my appointment time, and then hurried out of there in case the condition was contagious. That one will haunt me for a while.

The second scary we must discuss isn't pretty, and I mean that literally. It's October, which in the South, means we have reached a balmy cooler temperature of 75-degrees. I'm not a believer in flip flops for fall, but to each their own. I do insist that, if you must flop, you also keep your feet in viewable condition. If you can't keep your tootsies tidy, we are going to have to demand that you stop scaring the children and don a pair of socks and shoes instead. The choice is up to you, but when in doubt, pedicure.

If your feet look like you've been using them to push the car, they are not flip flop worthy.

I hate to talk about feet and food in the same breath, but as long as our subject is things that instill dread and terror, I must bring up store bought potato salad. Eek! I mean, really: have you ever had pre-made potato salad that actually tasted good? I don't mean simply edible, or that it didn't make you physically ill to consume, I mean tasty potato salad from a plastic container? If you don't believe me, have you ever in your life heard someone say, "I've got to get more of that Walmart potato salad! I simply must have their recipe!" I think not. Potato salad is laborious to make; store bought potato salad is a chore to eat. Bland, crunchy, mushy, gloppy...it's a nightmare.

If we don't make eye contact with it, it can't hurt us. 

Sadly, sometimes the most unnerving thing in the world can be the sound of your own name. Not from the mouth of some monster or ghoulish creature, but from the lips of someone who has recognized you when you are not at your beautiful best. I have a neighbor who seems to only spot me when I try to make a quick trip to my mailbox unseen; I'm quite certain that this woman has only seen me after I've been cleaning house or working out, and neither of those are good looks for me. I always insist, after she's caught me, that I typically do brush my hair and apply makeup, and it is my sincere hope that she knows that the yoga pants with the hole in the inner thigh are not my regular uniform. It's an unfortunate and frightening set of circumstances to be caught in, believe you me. I either need to up my standards for stepping outside or look into putting in a mail slot.

There are a few other things that fill me with fear: instant grits, when you order a Coke and the waitress brings you a Pepsi without telling you (no sane, responsible person should ever assume that these beverages are interchangeable), facing the scale on a Monday morning, noon kickoff times for college football games (giving new meaning to Dawn of the Dead), and that unmistakable sound the dog makes in the middle of the night when he's getting ready to vomit (no alarm clock ever created can wake you faster than that sound), to name a few. Slashers, mummies, and ghouls have got nothing on the real life scaries that strike terror in our real life hearts.

I wish you a Halloween full of great candy and good scares--thrills and chills scarier than a broken strand of pearls or dark meat in the chicken salad, more spine-tingling than an adult in white patent leather shoes or an unexpectedly empty bottle of hairspray. The best news I have for you is that, in my opinion anyway, if it makes your heart race, it counts as cardio. Boo, y'all!