Punk'd by a ghost on a grave...

(shorts-vintage, shirt-H&M, bra-UO, hat-stylenanda, shoes-fornarina)

Last week, we celebrated a co-worker's birthday at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery screening of Evil Dead 2. We ate popcorn and stromboli and drank wine. We laughed, threw popcorn, and the running gag became to yell 'Down in front!' whenever anyone got up to use the restroom. It was amazing walking through the beautiful and elaborate headstones of rich deceased celebrities. My next procrastination destination will be to google what all the different crosses mean.

A semi-photo shoot ensued where I skipped around the cemetery as if I were a creepy child of the corn. I remember thinking 'I will probably go to "hell" for laying on a grave' but I really meant no disrespect! After the movie was over, we walked the 2 blocks back to our car only to realize we "forgot" one of our bags with the keys inside! Major panic mode sends Tim running back to the cemetery to look for them, I'm calling all my friends on the phone, Tim is unable to find them, then finally I look through ur stuff--lo and behold, the bag with the keys was inside another bag! We both assume the other one put it there and an argument ensues in which we both vehemently deny putting that bag there. I swore it wasn't me. Tim swore it wasn't him. There's only one logical conclusion. A ghost totally pranked us, ya'll. I think that's what I get for laying on their grave taking silly pictures of myself. Sorry, ghost. I love you!