The Dead Stump Post: My Terrible Memory and Scary Movies

I have a bad memory. I was going to liken it holey Swiss cheese (is there any other kind?), but that might be giving it too much credit.

I often have genius blog post ideas that STRIKE like lightening in the night, but then when I wake in the morning the lightening is gone, and the only way I even know it ever happened is the charred, dead, stump of a tree in my back yard.

I recently had one such magnificent idea. All I can now remember is it related to the movie Poltergeist. That movie scared the bejeesus out of me before I even knew I had bejeesus in me. In about sixth grade I had a sleepover party on Friday the 13th, for which we rented many a scary movie. You'd think, knowing at this stage in the game that I'm such a scaredy-cat cry-baby, that I would never in a million years attempt such a thing. It was Friday the 14th that I first questioned if I was perhaps slightly autistic.

Anyway. My girl friends arrived. We had rented Poltergeist, Carrie, Firestarter, and...actually that may have been it. We never even got around to Firestarter, such big babies are we. We waited until nightfall and gently slid the black rectangular VHS tape into my now-ancient VCR. The movie? Poltergeist. I have never been the same since. Everyone in the room was scared out of their tiny, not-fully-formed adolescent minds. We couldn't even go to the bathroom alone. We went in pairs of two, one using the facilities while the other turned her back and stared at the closed door, on silent watch for all things creepy and haunted.

One friend took it upon herself to break the tension. We were all huddled close together in the hallway between my kitchen and the pantry door, hoping above all that "safety in numbers" worked against evil spirits too. BAM! She ripped open the pantry door! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Eight little unbearably shrill voices screamed in unison. If I had known what the "F" word was, I would've used it. Yes, she only opened a door. Yes, we were giant chicken shits. I unfortunately cannot argue with you there. But that movie SCARRED me for the rest of my life.

For years after, I would stare at the wall in my shower, praying nothing was going to come through it and drag my naked body to the depths of hell. I wondered if there was any way to find out if my house had been built on an ancient Indian burial site. Even now I wonder, as I pass houses up for sale, what it is they're built on, and are there some sort of Native American archives I could visit, just to check. I still cannot handle seeing snow on a TV set. I immediately shut it off, as if my very life depends on it. This was compounded when I saw The Ring. I now have a general distrust of televisions. Basically, I'm pretty much tapped. Seriously, buying a house someday will be SUCH a process for me. You can bet we won't be having an in-ground pool, let me get that straight. Oh, and absolutely no creepy clown dolls. But I think that one goes without saying.

On the other side of all this is my sister. She and her friend watched the P movie when she was even younger than I was. And do you know what happened? Do you? She LAUGHED. Laughed! She did not quake with fear! She found possessed crawling meat to be comedic genius! I note this is further proof that we are NOT related.

Truthfully, though, I am jealous of both my sister and father. Both of them can handle horror and scary things without being even slightly phased. My dad reads the most ridiculously scary books (okay, judging by the cover...) and it's nothing to him. I can't even watch the previews of scary movies without peeing a little in terror. I got saddled with the pansy gene. How come this fear-free gene skipped me? What gives!? I demand a refund!

I can, however, handle vampires. And, generally, werewolves. I guess because I can safely classify them in my brain files as "mythological." The paranormal and aliens, though, these cannot so easily be disproved. For all I know, they could exist. Which is why after bejeesus left me, it never ever came back.

 I like vampires the best. I remember seeing Fright Night for the first time and loving it. Buffy The Vampire Slayer movie and TV series? Check and check. Angel? Lost Boys? From Dusk Till Dawn? Blade(s)? Interview With The Vampire? Bram Stoker's Dracula? Underworld(s)? Van Helsing? Checkitty check check!. And yes, even Twilight. I am not ashamed though, because I laughed through the entirety of both the films I've seen.

As such, I am terribly excited about the re-make of Fright Night. I'm a sucker for Colin Farrell (oh how the dark, accented set make my heart beat so!) and, despite it's campiness, I am just in love with the film. I hope they keep the camp and don't try to make us take it seriously. Because I can tell you now, we won't.

Anyway. Gah this is long. And pointless. I should probably start carrying around a little notebook so that when lightning strikes again I can write it down before it's a dead stump. On the plus side, you can never challenge that these ideas were absolutely brilliant in their original form, because, well, you don't even know what they were. Score! I think?