Uh, no...

Zombie Babydoll

Prank Zombie Attacks and Real Consequences?

---> Click

Recently, some decided to pretend to be a zombie and chase people around--okay. I did this when I was like five. Though certainly a bit unnerving to have a lumbering, groaning, twenty-something boy stalk you, I was a bit disappointed by his 80s style tie around the head and artificially torn shirt sleeves. At least try for some authenticity?

But, I digress. What really struck me about the "attack" was the possibility of this being a trend. Were people tired of waiting for the real thing to happen so they go bonkers and attack each other? Is this lost bet? Will there be more? Or, perhaps more importantly, how far could something like this go? A part of me rolled my eyes as soon as this youtube clip began. Not a very convincing anything. However, another part of me wondered what kind of headlines would we see if something had gone seriously wrong during this kid's joke. Maybe he chased after the group of people or that individual itching for a fight. And is this just a start? 

People are already so paranoid, so on edge (and I'm not really sure why). I find it rather frightening that something stupid like this could set off a wave of consequences that the prankster might never have intended. It's likely that it wouldn't. I'm not that paranoid. 

Will there be more virtual clips demonstrating some other fool's poor attempt at costuming and make-up stumbling through the streets and scaring innocent people enough that they run for cover? I'm betting there already are and a few will make it youtube again. I'm not sure yet exactly what I'm trying to work out here; what are your thoughts, ghostly readers? How would you handle actually being on the run from a zombie, because now there is a stronger chance you will be? Will you choose to treat the threat as real or go along with the joke? I wish you luck on your journeys home and on your picnics in the park.

It's a joke. It's supposed to be funny.

Zombie Dusk

Okay, let's make this a series...

Zombie Moon

I'd imagine this is what the sky would look like when the dead rise...

Legit Zombie Prepping.

Yeah... I'm ready.

The Death of the Undead?

Being unemployed and moving between four states and driving across country three times in four-five months, I've had some time. Have I been overly productive with said time? Probably not. What I have done (in large part thanks to my birthday kindle) is read a lot of zombie books, and I've noticed a trend. Perhaps it was inevitable, perhaps it's evolution. Regardless, it seems to me that more and more of the zombie creatures plaguing the new apocalyptic fiction tend to be, well, less than dead.

These monsters, while sharing numerous similarities with the zombies of Romero, are in fact not actually doomed corpses walking, talking (okay, moaning), bloody-thirsty, flesh and sinew eating fiends. They are actually living doomed people walking, talking (you get it)... The antagonists of books by Joe Mckinney (great writer if you haven't experience his zombie books) and other more modern zombie fiction writers resemble more the infected horrors of 28 Days Later. 

When I first saw 28 Days Later, I, like several critics, deemed the regular peeps turned evil murdering meanies, to be less than zombie as if there was the perfect hierarchy determining what creatures were good enough for the label of walking dead. I was probably a bit snotty talking about the subject. Due to the popularity of the horror film mentioned above and the complete newness and creepiness of its monsters, I was not too surprised (okay, maybe a little) by the sudden influx of these not so dead zombies munching away at the literary world.

However, as time passed, I came to appreciate the ingenuity of these new, evolved zombie figures. Let's face it, they are kind of freaking scary and not just because of their cannibalistic tendencies. This so ups the moral anti. Before, you knew your Aunt Jo or mailman slobbery over the remains of your beloved Fido were dead as door whatever. It kind of helped you cope with annihilating the living dead. However, if now these zombies are merely infected (and not dead, repeat, not dead), how does that not change your perspective on killing them? I mean, doesn't this increase the chance for a cure, for a real return from the undead? Just maybe, if you had enough faith and one mad but brilliant scientist, you could have saved Grandma.

Furthermore, being that they are alive, doesn't that bring in the conversation of propagation?  AKA, living zombies breeding! Now, the undead baby in the remake of Dawn of the Dead was pretty horrific. If, however, you have seen Pandorum, this might have given you a better idea of how creepy baby-making undead could be. You thought with enough bullets (and probably grenades, explosives, maybe nukes....) the ordeal could be over; if enough humans outlasted the zombies, we could begin anew. Wrong! If the zombies are having little ones in wild and most predict their populations would outnumber humans anyway, um, that's a lot of creepy, people-eating monsters to contend with.

That brings me to the point of evolution. If alive (though terribly consumed by some phage/virus/parasite/general evilness), the neo zombie has the potential to adapt, to overcome the shackles of its once solely flesh-seeking existence. The monsters might start hunting, planning, WINNING... Not the zombie world I would choose to live in. Are the hairs on the back of your neck tingling, yet? Are you a zombie?

Lastly, the likelihood factor of the world's populace succumbing to the zombie plague increase astronomically by the disease or whatever not actually killing you. Most zombie nay-sayers claim that since zombies are supposed to be walking corpses (let's not even get into the digestion/eating of human flesh part), the chances of a zombie outbreak are ridiculously small (tell that to Alice from Resident Evil). Fair enough. But, if the people infected do not technically die after being bitten, the odds become more stacked in favor of an undead apocalypse. Yeah, go ahead, take a moment. I understand how freaky this is. I'll wait.

Though (if I'm being honest) skeptical at first, the not-so-dead-zombie opens up new fictional veins to explore, breathing more life into the genre. I look forward to seeing what evolutions and twists will spring up in the literature. And I'm starting tomorrow. What about you, phantom readers? What would most apprehend you about the living undead?

(Not) Running For My Life

Okay, so here it is. In a few days, I'll be completing that zombie race thing I signed up for all those months ago. What the heck was I thinking?!? Unfortunately, due to extensive travel and several cross country trips in the last few months, my training is seriously lax. I can barely run 2.5 miles (I started this summer at 4), and 100 crunches gives me aches for days. Still, I am excited despite feeling daunted by my abilities to "run" this course. I suppose I don't really have a plan. Isn't that the point of being a zombie enthusiast? Having a good bug out plan? Direction? Something to keep my life (or those little yellow flags) intact?

I suppose, if anything, I'm going to approach it as an experience. At least I will try. I hope to do better than that. I hate losing and for me, that would entail some plastic grubbing zombie snatching one of my lifelines as I pant from over exertion in Temecula. I hope I don't shame myself and fall flat on my face. I hope I can survive to enjoy my beer and concert at the end. I hope I don't stumble into the "10K" part of the race.

I suppose that's true lesson one should take from zombies; all the training in the world will only get you so far. It's hope in the end that will keep you alive.

Putting My Fantasies and Skills to the Test

                                                  (This is gonna be me in the fall. I am a lucky girl!)

I'm sure you've heard of this little race, Run for Your Lives. Well, I've finally signed up for it. If you haven't read up on this bloody 5K, it's a obstacle course filled with zombies, mazes, mud, and enough guts and gore to make this horror fan scream with joy. My husband is already shaking his head at my preparations, especially since the race is 4 months away. I mean, I hum with joy when it comes to Ihop and zombies. Did he expect any less?

I have to say, I'm a little nervous about the potential walls, hills, haystacks, and other impediments I'll need to overcome before crossing the finish line, hopefully with my life aka  red flag football flags. I've got a few plans and strategies in mind (I can't say what specifically in case a zombie reads this blog). At least I can run a 5K pretty comfortably without creeks and undead getting in my way so I'm less worried about endurance. I suppose mostly its my competitive streak, my desire to hold on to those flimsy plastic symbols of life. It would make me so angry to fail, to not survive the zombie apocalypse after all the reading, planning, and snarling I've done regarding the walking dead. 

                                                                  (I don't think this guy will be satisfied with a hug)

But beneath my pride, there resides something more. We zombie fans participate in these events because they are flippin' fun and they are the manifestation of all of the books and films we've been consuming for years. Underneath it all, perhaps this is the one of those tests offering insight into our chances of real survival in a world bleeding zombies. Perhaps our reflexes aren't as swift and well-honed as we would like to believe. Maybe our lungs and limbs fail us much sooner than anticipated. Per chance, we cannot navigate murky environments and will succumb to our weaknesses derived from easy access to transit, Targets, and comfy Lazyboys. I wonder, if anything, whether or not this race will serve as a window into this microcosmic realm where the undead really do nip at your heels, a window revealing just a bit of who we really are when the dead don't stay dead and the woods truly daunt.

I know it's silly to take this too seriously, to let my brain over analyze this adventure of fantasy and fitness. I'll wear my fun t-shirt, duck and dive like the organizers suggest, and grab my beer at the end of the race. I'll enjoy the concert at the climax of the evening, laugh with my friends over the stupid mistakes and spills we made during our journeys, and I'll travel home in the dark of night towards my warm, safe home and fuzzy kitty cats. 

Sigh. Well, til that trip back to our townhouse, a girl can only hope she has the guts to keep her guts where they belong.

The Beginning?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/blackberry/p.html?id=1548359

This sounds exactly like a cover-up for the dawn of zombies. I joke with my friends about the beginning of this end, pretend like it doesn't kind of freak me out. But, well, yeah.... I hope in ten years we don't look back and say, "Told ya so."

Why Zombies in San Diego Will Suck (And of Course Bite)

In the process of apartment hunting in San Diego, it quickly became apparent to me that if an outbreak of reanimated corpses were to suddenly appear off highway 8, I would become a human sandwich (perhaps on rye) within moments (I think I would taste best with some Dijon mustard, too). This place is flipping cramped, a never-ending sea of urban sprawl. Cripes, I could hope to confiscate one of those shiny boats in port, but since I can barely navigate Cally's freeway system, I am more likely to find myself drifting to my death rather than being eaten. 

These thoughts hang in the back of my mind as we weight the benefits of living close to downtown versus the es-capability of more easterly locations.  I mean, there is either the ocean to the west (not drinkable) or the desert to the east (likewise parch). At least with my jeep, I could off-road to life? 

Doesn't this stuff ever freak city people out? Do they care that they are a small disaster away from death and destruction? I have always felt super uneasy in crowds, unsafe, likely to be trampled to death. I dislike being about to smell their breakfast through my walls, cringe at the blast of their horrible tastes in music, and wait for them--ugh, I hate waiting.

I understand people want to be in the know, in the now, deep in the heart of the city. But, why does it seem so many are willing to sacrifice their safety for the ability to walk to 10 bars rather than 2 in the suburbs? I know there is more to it, but I genuinely do not get/accept/want to be so dependent on the whims of others when my life and my family is at stake. Call me paranoid, but at least when the zombies come, you can still call me.

To Survive or Not To Survive (that's right, I made a poorly veiled Shakespeare reference)

If I were to have a fatal flaw, I believe it would be hesitation. If there was to be one character trait that would probably do me in during a zombie apocalypse, it would likely resemble an inability to make swift, life-saving choices that would propel me from being undead fodder. I mean, what would I do with my cats? They aren't exactly portable. If the whole thing blew over in a few days, I would be sorely pissed to have set them loose on the world and never have the chance to see them again. I'm going to be moving to a location without a good freshwater source. Should I by-pass the family nearby for more fertile grounds? What about gas? I might have jeep, but it certainly wouldn't get me far enough to resources before I'd need to refill. 

Governmental obligations would likely cause my husband and I to split (at least for a bit). Do I hang around the port for him or deftly drive up to safety? What if that determines whether we'll see each other again? Sometimes, these questions plague me--and maybe they should.

Really, the come down to a lack of planning. To best survive catastrophes, it is recommended to already have contingency plans in place. I asked my husband about this a few months back. He seemed fine with whatever choices I make--where ever I go. But, my hesitation at even this hypothetical situation leaves me breathless. I know this is all something which can be dealt with. Those planners on the Discovery channel certainly seem to have their pulses on this survival gig. 

Yet, would even their plans have preparations laid out for every possible scenario? Well, no, but I do assume they will be better able to adapt. Just because one cannot know the future does not mean one should not make arrangements just in case.  

I've begun with the basics: building a bug out bag, learning the roads and highways of America, building connections throughout my journeys, and improving my overall health and endurance. There will be more to learn, more to overcome as I await Z-Day. Perhaps with more time and training, my general hesitation will become less deadly.  

What flaws do you, phantom readers, believe you will struggle with most? How do you intend to prepare for them before the real dangers begin gnawing at your bloody stumps?

It's All About the Rides

A few days back, I purchased my first anti-zombie vehicle. I am now a Wrangler-ette. For a multitude of reasons (mostly having to do with Sarah Conner), I've always wanted a Jeep. Now, I can actually off-road independently and feel like the monster-eating beast I'll need to become should the world degenerate into a land of thriving and writhing undead. Oh, happy thought indeed...

Grandma Bought Me a Gerber

When pursuing knives at the Exchange, my grandma only giggled when I pointed out the small gerber (accompanied by a multi-tool contraption) I wanted for Christmas. She bounced off to find a bored sales associate to open the lock preventing me from clutching the blade with my greedy paws. My mother, a bit less enthusiastically, placed my other survival gift (a nifty fire-starter) into the cart and asked if she should be worried about her children's seemingly sudden preoccupation with blades, camping gear, and wilderness techniques. I explained how years of living with a marine (my father) has always encouraged a general interest in survival for my brother and I regardless of our current living conditions. He does also work in a camping store and I in the imagination.

Oddly enough or rather given my long lasting love for the macabre, she firmly placed my fire-starter thing (I'm sure it has a real, more serious sounding name) and a twin of it in the cart for my brother. Still not quite reassured, I gently noted that it's not as if we were buying solely gear for a zombie apocalypse (though of course I'm now running scenarios of my awesomeness through my mind about starting fires and cutting important things and of course zombies). Having recently prepped for the hurricane season, I told her it was always good to just be prepared for any emergency. You won't think you are so silly when you actually need that strong toothed cutter thing or a zombie comes barreling down the hall intent on snacking on your sinew (Maybe I left that last part out while comforting her). 

It is interesting though how we "worry" about those who prep for emergencies. In some ways, one does not want to be that person who wasted precious time and resources planning for an event so terribly unlikely to occur. Perhaps, though, this smacks more of complacency or even naivety. It is probably pretty obvious I live in North America where the majority knows little of survival or suffering. I don't mean to say we are all so ignorant as I do know several individuals who understand much about pain, poverty, and starvation in my neck of the woods (more than I ever have). I am just not sure most of us do--at least not according to our popular culture.  Maybe we know more than we pretend we do. I hope that will help us. 

In the mean time, I'll continue collecting my knives and other odds and ends of knowledge. Have you, phantom readers, been mocked for your preparations? Or, do you think under the rumble or ridicule, those who make fun are strangely relieved that some one has taken initiative?

Undead Students

Slack jaws, dazed expressions, inability to raise head from the desk it's seemingly cemented, too, failure to demonstrate cognition, etc. I see the zombification of students on a daily basis and they still have warm blood in their veins. What would it be like if they were real zombies?

I wonder if they even see/define themselves the same way....

California Creeping?

What might zombies think of Cally? Easy dining? Would west coast undead be more laid back, slower creatures?

Heartsick

How do you battle the undead when your heart has been ripped from your chest and shredded in a meat grinder? I wonder if it is not how much you physically prepare or store up for the long winter ahead that truly enables you to survive. It is rather your desire to live--to not give into to those stubborn moans caressing the otherwise silent world.

I'm heartsick and need some zombies to kill. Perhaps that might be the cure for my affliction.

H-Day?

If you were a zombie, would you attack on Halloween? Would it be tacky? Too Obvious?

A zombie doesn't have much else going in its favor other than numbers and the element of surprise. Should the undead uprising begin on All Hallow's Eve, most victims would hardly unsuspecting. Ghosty and gholishly things are supposed to happen today. We prep for that scenario all year long. If something is going to go down, October 31st seems like a reasonable day for the event to occur. Odd then a lot of disaster movies actually take place on Christmas. Would it make more sense to deck the halls with zombies? I suppose their wriggling, rotting bodies might even look endearing in the soft glow of twinkle lights. 

Well, zombie Christmas would certainly be entertaining and very much Tim Burton-esque. However, it still seems like the world could naturally align to let the dead dance among the living on our most spooky holiday. 

I imagine patiently awaiting the arrival of mini storm troopers and my little ponies gasping for candy whilst the rotting dead begin to rise inevitable from their cold, moist graves. I hear the jingle of the door bell, an indication that some dedicated trick-or-treater will be standing, arms stretched out in desperate need of glucose and melted chocolate and plastic capes flapping in the chilly October wind. As I settle a spooky grin on my lips and firmly tug on my witch's hat, I clutch a basket of snickers and skittles in one hand and reach for the brass door knob with the other. Both parties excited and expectant. However, what greets my sugar-coated philanthropy is not sweet demands of greedy children but rather the bloody groans of a malnourished corpse. For a moment, both of us remain frozen in a indistinguishable mixture of wonder and horror. My heart and all sense of sanity pause in the same instance, my body in a rigor more appropriately associated with the creature standing before me. Its eyes cloudy yet with a hint of relief as it stands before a treat most tempted, most required. This moment stretches for what seems like eternity until instinct floods both of our systems. I stumble back in terror and adrenaline; the creature descends upon my weak attempts to flee. 

Soon we are locked in an embrace deeper and more intimate than any other we had experience prior to this fateful night. My bowl of candy quickly forgotten springs from my grasp as all of my good intentions are flung out into the dark, dark night. Falling inevitably to the ground below, I can only softly mew as its shattered teeth tear into the soft flesh my forearm, bloody quietly soaking both of our souls. Down, down, down we go into the rabbit hole. It stays for as long as it is necessary, for a long as my blood remains warm. And then it leaves me behind in search of another foolish lover of Halloween, another set of thrumming arteries and tender skin and muscle. 

From terrible pain, fear, comes first the soft whisper of oblivion, until the sharp pangs of hunger reanimate my flesh. Twitching, aching, needing, I rise and seek out a satisfaction I will never be aware can never end. Trick or Treat.

(Images from http://www.zombiepumpkins.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=1113 and http://zombifiedzone.blogspot.com/2010/12/well-its-that-time-of-year-again.html)

Please, do it.

Zombies, eat my brains.... PLEASE. If you came a knockin' today, I would so buy your avon.

Walking with the Dead?

(Image is a still from the Walking Dead, Season 2, "Bloodletting" episode)


I have to admit (and maybe you will hate me for it or in the very least wish a snarling zombie would feast on my rotting flesh) I did not like the first season of the Walking Dead as much as I hoped. Perhaps because I had not heard of the graphic novel, I did not have as much invested in the series as other, better fans did. I mean, I was super grateful/excited that any series involving the undead would be airing; however, I found I could not validate staying up that late to watch a show that kind of failed to interest me in the beginning (I usually get up at 4:30am, so a show that went until 10pm was a little difficult). 

I think if I had given it more time and more effort, I would have come to enjoy it. It seems like the episodes following the first two really intensified the story and developed the characters I originally felt lukewarm about. At least I am honest about my feelings.

This pseudo-disclaimer being said, I have now watched the first two episodes of the new season and am finding it much more engaging. I loved the zombie hoard trudging through the abandoned vehicles and our protagonists sweatily and fearfully hiding under said cars, trucks, and campers. What an exhilarating way to begin a show!!!! The characters have shredded their masks of altruism--we are seeing who these people really are which is something I heart about zombie stories. The good deputy never fails to think of others before himself--ever willing to sacrifice his own safety to help others. His wife, so beautifully strong and in some ways too cold, finds her center again even though an errant bullet is threatening to destroy their revived loved/foundation. The Lancelot, the deputy's partner and adulterer, attempts (weakly) at disengaging himself from this band of  un-undead because he cannot stand to be around his former lover and her husband. And this is just a pittance of the fascinating internal conflicts infesting the characters. Alliances are crumbling, shifting, and forging. Tension is crackling--the world is shattering for these (unfortunate) survivors in more ways than one. Okay, Walking Dead, maybe I see your point.

For me personally, it took until the beginning of this new season to see this kind of transformation. Again, I'm pretty sure this started to happen in season 1, I just fell asleep before I was lucky enough to witness it. Without the build up of even the pretense of the mundane, you cannot have these spectacular crashes into despair, loss, and ultimately redemption and recovery. Without experiencing the inchoate gathering of the survivors, one cannot fully appreciate the demise of their bindings.

Maybe give me another chance, like I did for this show, before you foist my remains into a pile of clawing, gnawing zombies. Maybe?

Zombies Baked in a Pie

Watching Waitress and wondering what kind of pie zombies would like. Kidney pie? Blood pudding? Brains and Marrow Tart? Flesh and Muscle pie drizzled with Sinew Sauce?

Would zombies even wait long enough for their favorite dessert to bake before hollowing the pan out in desperate hunger as the heated metal scorches their already rotting flesh? Could I use these bloody, zombie-frenzy inducing sweets to lure the creepies away from my hideout? Or, in some alternative universe where zombies have their own comedy routines, would the rotting undead chuck these monstrous mouses at one another? I imagine them quickly falling atop each other with grasping, bony fingers and masticating jaws fighting for one morsel of that sickly and juicy pie.

Well, I suppose then there never will be a Top Chef Zombie Edition (Extraordinaire). A girl can only hope.