Oh, a conundrum. I’ll be out today from 6:00 until after midnight, so if I don’t post something before 6:00, I won’t have the proper date-stamp on my picture. But I won’t have a good picture until after 6:00!
At 6:00 we’re having our monthly dinner with Vince and Gail. Remember Vince from last time? Lying on the living room floor? Pretending to eat the soup right out of the tureen? I’m sure to get another great picture tonight, but won’t have time to post it, because right after visiting with them, I’m headed out with friends to a 10:20 showing of The Hunger Games. In Hanover—yuck.
I don’t like that theater. The parking lot is kind of creepy. It’s behind the other buildings, but also in the middle of fields, and I always expect to see a tornado coming toward it. Or an alien ship. Or dinosaurs.
Hey! I’ll write about dinosaurs and scary movies–and then post a picture of us in the theater tomorrow morning. It’s a plan.
Ok, I don’t know a whole lot about scary movies because I can’t handle them. In fact, pretty much the only time that Darling Husband goes all caveman and forbids me to do something is when a scary show is on and I’m tempted to watch it. “No. You are not allowed to watch that. I end up having to deal with the aftermath, so…no. No scary movies for you.”
He’s right, though. Once I see something scary, it stays with me for decades. In 8th grade they showed us a black and white vampire movie at school. The people in the movie started to figure out who the vampire was when one guy thought he saw a woman’s face near his second story window. But when he got to the window it was just a bat and he closed the window on the bat’s wing, but it got away. The next morning a woman showed up with a bandaged hand…and then he knew. Twenty-six years later, I still get a chill whenever I have to close a window at night.
Then there was the day that Pam couldn’t decide whether we should see Black Swan or The King’s Speech. I didn’t know anything about either of them and suggested we see both on the same day, so we did.
The King’s Speech was delightful, but I did not know how creepy Black Swan was going to be. Throughout the whole movie, Pam kept shrieking whenever something jumped out and shouting admonitions to the screen, “No! Don’t do that! Put the letter opener away! ” It was at the letter opener scene that I stopped watching. By the end, I was hunched in my seat whimpering with my eyes shut and rummaging through my purse trying to find my earplugs. I missed the entire second half and had to rely on Pam telling me what was going on. “She killed her! There’s blood everywhere! Oo! It’s oozing under the door! No…no, she’s not dead after all…” When will the horror end?
I’ve boiled it down and realized that this is what bothers me most: paranormal things and insanity. You simply can’t fight back the paranormal stuff—it’s more powerful than you. And if you’re insane, you can never get away from yourself.
And crazy people in movies do crazy things. I mean, if you know you’re crazy, why would you take a bath and submerge yourself under the water, and then open up your eyes while still underwater, just in time to hallucinate that someone’s leaning over your tub dripping blood into it? If you know you’re nuts, stay out of the tub! You should probably stay out of the shower too. Sponge baths are the way to go.
The 6th Sense had me scared for years upon years upon years. My coworker (Megan) told me “it’s not scary. Not at all. It’s a great movie.” But Megan also used to merrily tell stories about the poltergeists that lived in her grandmother’s house and would take apart the grandfather clock mechanisms every night and leave the bits in a neat pile in front of the clock. So, I guess if that doesn’t faze you, a fictional movie about dead people won’t either.
But why did the dead people have to be so creepy? Why couldn’t they have just said, “I’m dead. Can you avenge me, please?” Why did they need to slam cupboard doors and throw up on you and sneak around in your hallway with half blown off faces?
I ended up curled up in the seat during that movie too. I saw it with Joe. He just shook his head laughed at me and then took me home and left me on the sidewalk in front of my house and drove off. I raced up the steps to the house, in the dark, and tried to open the door with my shaking fingers just knowing that a dead person was going to jump out of the shrubbery and yell “boo!” and throw up on my shoes. Poor Darling Husband asked, “How was the movie?” and had to deal with a quivering, whimpering wife for the next few years, as well as the increased electricity costs because I left all the lights blazing every night.
I don’t even need to actually see the movie for myself. Jo-Ann only told me about a part in a movie where the psycho guy hides in the blind girl’s closet. A blind girl’s closet! Aw, man. I still have trouble opening the closets sometimes.
Darling Husband has a real samurai sword. When I would get home from work alone, I would get the sword and check under each piece of furniture and in the closets with the sword in hand. I couldn’t relax until I was sure the psycho wasn’t hiding in my closet. Fling open the door, poke the clothes with the sword, move on to the next closet…
And even waaaay back Jurassic Park bothered me for a few years. When I’d come home to my apartment I’d wonder if the velociraptors were hiding in the kitchen. It was a cute little apartment. It had been a house that was converted into an upstairs and downstairs apartment. We had the upstairs. I’d listen for the cats as I walked up the steps. If the cats were alive, then the raptors weren’t there. But if the cats didn’t greet me, it could only mean they’d been eaten.
That apartment had a bathroom with a window right in the shower. When a cloud would pass over the sun, the bathroom would get dark. I’d be washing my hair, eyes closed, and if the room got dark, I’d pop open my eyes, knowing it must be a T-Rex with his dilating eye staring in the window.
Now that I’m older Jurassic Park doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t mind aliens or zombies or dinosaurs. Now it’s just the paranormal and insanity. And serial killers. Don’t like serial killers. Or demons. But those fit into the paranormal category. Like that demon movie with Keanu Reeves where the people were all demons in disguise. I was watching that at home and didn’t have a clue it was a scary movie, until the demon people’s skin started rippling. What!? I thought this was supposed to be a courtroom drama! I didn’t know they meant the literal devil’s advocate! Sheesh.
I was forced to watch the entire movie because I was home alone and paralyzed with fright and was too afraid to move and leave the room. When Darling Husband got home and saw me stuck to the couch, eyes big, hyperventilating, he just sighed and prepared himself for the big electric bill.
I hate scary movies.