Watching the supremely not scary, yet strangely mesmerizing Friday the 13th, sequel number 100 or so, I realized two things. One, I like pseudo scary things like crappy horror movies, not really scary things like my winter heating bill. Second, I truly wish I could play a serial killer in a horror movie.
In fact, I’ve come to realize that is my dream job. I am well aware I am a forty-year-old woman, but menopause is coming soon I for see much rampaging on my part. Let’s channel it to the good shall we?
Imagine being paid to stand about all day looking menacing, which according to the kids I do for free now, so why not get paid. Besides, pretending to stab all those hapless campers and such would be cathartic. I imagine the actors who play serial killers never require therapy.
Of course, the mask and jumpsuit, which is typical serial killer garb, really does nothing for your figure. I think the benefits definitely outweigh the schlump factor.
Moreover, you simply don’t have to worry about a bad hair day. Medusa looked wicked good with snakes for hair. I can’t imagine the Starbucks clerk screwing up Jason or Freddy’s latte.
Obviously, I’ve given this a lot of thought, it beats contemplating how I am going to load fifty tons of leaves up and transport them to the recycling center. See, how I am specifically not talking about leaves, I am talking about horror movies, it’s all about distraction.
Thank goodness, I have television to take my mind off my chores. Nothing wipes away worry like abject terror courtesy of “Night of the Living Dead.
I do love horror movies. Yes, even zombie horror movies, except I view those as more of a how to manual than a movie. I watched Zombieland and found myself jotting down notes on potential ways to dispatch the next zombie horde.
I can’t wait until the kids are old enough to watch scary movies with me. Scary movies and haunted houses are more fun when you do it with someone else.
Although, my last attempt at a haunted house didn’t go so well. I like to view scary from afar. Hence, my love of horror movies, I don’t like my horror up close and personal. The particular haunted house I went to encouraged the actors to interact with the guests.
Let’s just say that didn’t work for me. I believe I am still banned from that haunted house. The good news is the actor’s nose healed!
Right now, the kids think Scooby Doo’s Mystery Incorporated is scary, so I don’t see use watching Paranormal 4 anytime soon. Which means, I am left all alone, in the dark, watching scary movies.
The other night I watched a scary movie, you guessed it, all alone and then had to take the dog outside before bed.
Despite the fact, I clearly know Dracula doesn’t exist and I live in a well-lighted urban area, I nearly had a heart attack when the neighbors motion activated ghost went off. For the record, who the hell leaves those on all night?
I screamed, the dog laughed; it was a typical night in October at my house.
Jennifer Flaten lives where the local delicacy is fried cheese, Wisconsin. She writes about family life, its amusing or not so amusing moments. "At least it's not another article on global warming," she says. Jennifer bakes a mean banana bread and admits an unusual attraction to balloon animals and cup cakes. Busy preparing for the zombie apocalypse, she stills finds time to write "As I See It," her witty, too often true column. "My urge to write," says Jennifer, "is driven by my love of cupcakes, with sprinkles on top. Who wouldn't write for cupcakes, with sprinkles," she wonders.
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