So my sisters Martin and Faybe like horror movies. I’ve also been lead to believe my sisters like me. So, when I’m home and there’s a scary movie in the dollar theater, they often drag me along with them to a predictably late-night showing. You’d think they’d learn that I don’t. like. scary. movies. But since this particular series of events has happened on quite a few occasions, I must conclude that they’re just dumb. (I mean really! If I spend two hours muttering supercalifragilisticexpialidocious under my breath to distract myself while maintaining a death grip firm enough to leave fingernail marks in your arm—do you think I’m enjoying myself?) But maybe I’m dumb too, considering the number of times I’ve watched scary things of my own volition. Like that time I accidentally let The Exorcism of Emily Rose come up on my Netflix queue (I probably will never watch about a third of the movies in my queue, I just put them there because they catch my attention for some reason or another) and then, instead of just sending it back, I felt obligated to watch it. Alone. At night. It wasn’t even that scary, I just cannot handle suspenseful jump cuts and intense soundtracks.
Erm, I don’t remember why I started talking about this (I think it had something to do with the thriller-esque qualities in Veronica Mars), so I’m going to bed. I’ve been procrastinating for about a week and tomorrow it judgment day. Wish me luck.
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7 comments:
I'm pretty sure that you are just pretending that you don't like scary movies so that I will agree to pay for you. But you do such a good job of pretending (I have the bruises to prove it), I don't mind doing that for you. So, pick out some good scary movies for us to watch together over Christmas!
Hey! What the heck is this? A whole blog that you didn't even tell me about? And it's just sitting in your profile?
I mean...if you're going to shun me, at least have the courtesy to make sure I don't find out. And after all that quality bonding time too. *shakes head*
I've decided I shall punish you by going back, reading your entire blog, and making random comments on posts that are months old.
Take that.
Ah, crap.
Okay, I'm done now.
Hey, I think Mean Mommy found your blog.
Also, I would like to note that I found it about a year before she did. That means I love you more.
I'm pretty sure the measure of love goes by who bought her gelato last. I win!
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