From May 13 - Bounce House Devours Woman

BOUNCE HOUSE DEVOURS WOMAN - FILM AT ELEVEN

What started out as a lovely day to be spent with friends and celebrating a delightful little girls 4th birthday evolved into a day filled with heavy breathing, nausea, embarrassment, shame, discomfort and looking into the eyes of death and all mixed for some odd reason with uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Not the good type of laughter where you giggle and move on...this the kind of laughter that grips you so tight your entire insides clench up and you physically cannot breathe - where you mouth the words STOP IT...I CAN"T TAKE IT ANYMORE...but no one can (or they choose not to) hear you.

My warning to all who read this is simple: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES attempt to or actually enter a "BOUNCE HOUSE", these innocent-looking castles of air....seem so simple and fun loving...but they are Lucifer in-rubber; primary colors beckoning you to enter for a little fun and carefree abandon. But once inside, the evil is released and death comes a-knocking.

It all started when the "cool kids" shouted my name...".Valerie, come inside with us, we'll take a picture; come on "it's fun" (I've had more fun at a colonoscopy exam).

Let me preface this tale with the fact that the party had broken up and there were but a few stragglers left behind, including the infamous "M-3 Posse", which I now believe stands for Masochists, Morons and Maniacs. It had rained and the bounce house was wet and all but empty. The girls and, when I say girls, I mean full grown women who would usually be sipping iced teas and exchanging recipes, decided to find their inner child and enter what I now refer to as the House of Doom.

I must say watching them attempt entry was very comical from the outsiders perspective. It was easy to watch and giggle at the antics of Robyn the Radical and Crazy Christie. The view of them just entering thru the trap door (for that is truly what it is) was worth the price of admission; I even remember thinking to myself..."that is something I WOULD NEVER DO!" (You will see later that this follows a long pattern of lying to myself, i.e., the Farrah wings I sported were still cool in 1995, nobody will notice my two different colored shoes, I haven't gained weight, my clothes just shrunk). Anyway, I digress, they were screaming and carrying on and started to call my name; now usually when a bunch of crazies calls to me, I just ignore them...but this day was different, because the call of their voices was being driven by the evil power of the "House of Doom"....that evil within made their mad requests seem fun, inviting, and enticing, so I kicked off my shoes and walked toward the "House of Doom".

The classic Angel/Devil debate was going on in my unclear head as I approached the inflated balloon of death.

ANGEL: Where are you going...didn't you see the position you have to assume to enter the balloon of death? People will see you, there are many witnesses; many with cameras just waiting for an opportunity to catch you in a very unflattering and compromising position. Turn back NOW!

DEVIL: Go on, don't be so uptight, they did it, no one said anything about that...it'll be fun. Don't be an old fuddy duddy.

I ignored the warning of common sense, thinking, "What is the worst thing that will happen?" It's just a bouncy house, children love them; they represent youth and carefree days of yore. I chose not to hear the theme song from "DEAD MAN WALKING" as I approached the "House of Doom".

You would think that the fact that upon arrival I had to mount this big wet foam block thing on my knees in white pants,lift up a flap and then crawl under a net would have disuaded me, especially when I knew full well the view I was going to be presenting to all those unfortunate people behind me. I have to be honest here - my days of being called "twiggy, slim and beanpole" are far behind me. I left them back somewhere in the early to mid nineties when I was still trying to pull off the Farrah Fawcett wings. Those days have been replaced with words like Big and Beautiful, Just My Size, Women's Department, Full Figured, and Extra, Extra Curvy.

So I proceeded towards the Temple of Satan. Upon approach I can hear the debate of good and evil once again:

ANGEL: Just peak inside, point to your white pants and tell them they're nuts!


DEVIL: You've come this far, don't be a coward! Get in there; they did it...come on WUSS!

Well, nobody calls me a wuss. So, I attempt to gain entry into Satan's Den. 1st attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM BLOCK...WTF! This didn't look that hard before. 2nd attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM BLOCK...WTF...how hard is it to climb into a hole? 3rd attempt: I slide down the HUGE WET FOAM BLOCK...WTF. Now this is a point of pride....I'm going to get my full figured ass in there if it KILLS me. (Which you will see later, it almost did).

Finally, I somehow manage to claw my way into the Belly of the Beast. The first thing that struck me is that this was a huge mistake because once inside I notice there are 2 little children jumping in youthful abandon and oblivious that they are encased in evil along with my "friends". I was greeted with the vision of Radical Robyn on all fours, doggie style if you will, and Crazy Christie steadying herself near the sidewall made of netting and laughing uncontrollably and screaming for Robyn to get up. Meanwhile, Robyn seemed incapable of talking, but I think she was motioning for me to get down doggie style with her, which a prudish upbringing forbid me from doing. I knew I had to stand up quickly and make my way to the wall if I had any chance of holding onto my dignity. I thought Crazy Christie had the right idea, and knew I had to somehow steady myself along the "wall" which is simply netting...that same stuff used in your trunk to keep your milk from rolling around.

The first thing that came to my mind as I stood up was how quickly I was aware of everything I had eaten earlier in the day; it seemed to be floating in my stomach looking for an escape hatch. The second thing I remember was looking at the tattoos on Robyn's feet and marveling at how much they were moving almost like they were lifting up from the skin where they were attached. The third thing I noticed was that the children weighing in at a combined weight of probably 75 lbs. were creating a G-force in Lucifer's Lounge that was really irritating me.

I made it over to the "wall" which is funny when you think of it because a wall would give one the impression that there is stability and safety and protection to be found there. The truth is, this netting was really a web of morbidity, and once you came into contact with it, the entire structure is designed to give way like a house of cards.

I think I must have "leaned" upon the web for about 2/10ths of a second before I was encompassed in a sea of primary colors...RED/YELLOW/BLUE, and I think I saw a glimpse of Nemo, but can't be sure as I sunk into the depths of hell on earth. Apparently, and this is just my opinion, the "walls" are connected to the floor and if a person larger than an 8 year old takes down the wall, the entire structure will collapse upon itself. I noted that the roof was suddenly on me and not 10 feet above my head.

I was soaked from a fluid I can only surmise was the grim reaper's bile and I saw my life flash before my eyes... I thought "This is not how I thought it would end, not encased in a rubber tomb drowning and suffocating all at once". I didn't think my body was capable of obtaining the flexibility and contortionist moves required; my feet aren't that high above my head in the gynecologist's office.

I begged for some sort of help...desperate like drowning people are. My "friends" Robyn and Christie, were nowhere to be found I could only hear their laughter as I fought for dear life. The larger, older child tried to walk my way, but I knew there was no way in hell she could possibly pull me out. But I had the forethought to think "grab her in here with you...maybe then someone will help and at least you won't go alone!" I could see her eyes register the futility of her errand and she stayed just out of my reach.

To this day, I don't know how I righted myself, but somehow my will to live another day allowed me to belly my way up the "roof" onto the floor and the air started to re-circulate. At this point I was like Britney Spears in a rehab center: "I JUST WANTED OUT". I made my way to one of the corner pillars and couldn't decide if the wetness on my pants was rain water or urine and didn't much care.

I made my way back to the place where I had entered from. I could smell freedom and taste it in my mouth, but the fallen angel had other plans for me. You see, somehow, after my trauma from a mere 4 minutes before, I somehow forgot that I was not supposed to lean on the net wall. As I approached the trap door, I planned to back out and did so by presenting myself ass first to the entrance point and proceeded to grab the "net wall". Well, I hope you enjoy re-runs, because the exact same thing happened all over again. RED/YELLOW/BLUE/NEMO, bring the house down, fluid everywhere, laughter from Crazy Christie and Radical Robyn, feet up thinking "You can't escape your destiny" when I felt my opal earring get ripped from my ear. Well, do what you will with me, but keep your mitts off of my jewelry!

It was a split second decision. Rise up and get some life sustaining air or push the bloated rubber aside and go back for your family jewels. If you know me, and I think you do, I went back and reclaimed my earring, grappled my way back up the roof/wall/floor thingy and birthed myself from the doors of purgatory and deposited my big, beautiful butt directly onto the lawn.

Did I mention that the entire time this was going, on the party paparazzi were there snapping pictures!!! Robyn's husband (and I believe first cousin) took this opportunity to make a "snuff" film.

I will most likely post some pictures here, as I am sure my "friends" will already have them up on their sites so I might as well steal their thunder.

I escaped with a little less dignity and a new-found respect for the extreme sport of the Bouncy House.

Happy Mother's Day....and to Robyn and Christie, you know what kind of MOTHER'S I think you are!!!

Vouncy