I mean seriously.
You would think I would learn my lesson--that bragging always leads to getting bitten in the ass.
You may recall i claimed to have a perfect life.
not twenty minutes after i posted that, i was stuck in my garage.
then it started to snow.
then one of my sons puked.
then i got into a fight with my husband.
lord almighty. i think i'll try to trick fate...reverse psychology, you know?
so anyway. He got a $310 speeding ticket on our way to the airport a couple of weeks ago. he he. okay, it sucks, but at least it's something concrete i can bring up during fights to throw in his face in a really mature manner. oh, i'm kidding. i wouldn't do that. well, i haven't yet, at least. but i'll keep it in mind.
hmmm...i'm feeling chatty, but what to say?
Watched half of The Way We Were the other day. G-O-D. I always cry for the entire last 20 minutes of that movie. so wrenching. and hot damn that Mr. Redford was a smooth character.
So, Kat's been talking about scary times from childhood, etc this week and it has me thinking. I used to be the biggest scaredy cat in the world. In fact, the night i watched Seven I slept with the light on........hey, i was living at my brother's house at the time, and my room was in a half-finshed basement, far away from everyone else (which came in rather handy for seducing young missionaries-to-be, but that's another story). I guess the moral of that story (the scary movie one, not the seduction one, cuz, let's get real--no morals were present there, m'kay?) is that i should never go straight to bed after watching disturbing, scary or weird movies. I had these weird rituals when i was a child, too. sleep with the door open, the hall light on, closet door open and definitely (i'm with kat all the way here!) keep all arms and legs INSIDE the vehicle, er bed. my fears were never of monsters, either. cuz, i'm smarter than that. duh. it's just that watching Poltergist at a young age (7-ish) made quite an impression on me. it was all about the supernatural. i'm finally over that--don't believe in ghosts, etc.
i made the mistake of reading Dean Koontz's Intensity. holy fuck. if you want to be scared out of your bobby socks, read that. of course, it was so realistic that i believed that man was in my home for months after reading it....and my new fear, that i invented all on my own, is that some night i'll get home from a night out with the girls or whatever, and climb into bed, snuggle up to the man in my bed--only to find it's not my husband, it's the man who has already killed him and is waiting for me. I know. I know. curse this imagination of mine. curse it. (except when it's being used to construct wild sexual fantasies...)