How to Watch a Horror Movie

Remember that scene in The Evil Dead where that regular, everyday douche-bag suddenly turns into a terrifying, supernatural douche-bag? You know, this guy…

holy-crapballs

Well, every time I watch that scene I do this:

aaaaargh

Every.single.time.

Over the years I have noticed a common trait in horror movie buffs – nothing really scares them. I know there must be others like me – horror movie buffs who crap themselves through each and every scary movie – but I think we are definitely the exception. In fact, most people I know who crap themselves watching horror movies tend to avoid watching them.

My husband, daughter and I are all horror movie buffs, but they belong to the former category and sit through every horror movie looking incredibly relaxed, if not slightly bored. I am the exact opposite to them and have developed a variety of ways to get through horror movies without too much trauma; some of these include:

Not actually watching.

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Using husband as protection.

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Making the most of visual impairment.

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One night a few weeks ago we were all watching a particularly scary horror film. I was doing my usual thing, feeling unbearably anxious and trying to somehow watch without actually seeing anything.

 

pillows-will-save-me

 

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Tired of my endless fidgeting and my constantly asking “What’s happening – is the scary bit over yet?” my daughter handed me one of my son’s toy guns.

gun

I know it was meant to be a joke, but I took the toy gun and aimed it at the television. Immediately something came over me – a feeling of calm, a sense of, dare I say it… power.

From that moment on every time some demoniacal monstrosity erupted on screen I would shoot at it like my life depended it. It became fun and after a short time I found myself looking forward to the scary parts just so I could shoot the television.

power

Naturally, as the movie got scarier, I had to get a bigger gun.

nerf

So, if you’re a major scaredy-cat like me, try arming yourself the next time you’re watching a horror movie…trust me, it works.

Oh, and as for my zombie apocalypse nightmares, I reckon I’ve got them beat.

come_get_me

My Epic Journey

Last week my family and I moved back to the Northern Territory (NT) – after first moving to South Australia for eight months and then to Canberra for just over two years. When we first left the NT we were so happy and excited to be leaving and now we are just as happy and excited to be back again!

It cost us a small fortune to do all this interstate moving, but I think sometimes you just have to do these things to figure out where you really want to be and what’s most important to you.

It was a hell of a long drive (over 4,000 kilometres) so my latest comic is all about our trip. (My daughter is absent from the comic because we flew her over due to the fact that she suffers from motion sickness.)

There was a lot of this…

arewethereyet

…and this.

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Which was followed by this. (Aka me sitting in the car with my legs crossed whilst simultaneously cursing Mother Nature and societal norms regarding public urination and females.)

peeing

If I ever have to do another long trip I swear I am buying one of these! It would be worth it just to see the look on their faces!

shewee

On particularly long stints I would take the wheel for a short time to allow my husband to nap. I can’t drive for long because I get quite anxious at high speeds. I am also rather short-sighted, even with my glasses on, and often have trouble making out objects on the roadside.

imminent death

Our driving styles are quite different.

My husband takes the relaxed I know exactly what I’m doing approach (while I sit in the front seat watching the speedometer like a hawk – seriously, I’m like a human cruise control, except more annoying).

relaxed

Whereas when I drive I prefer to take the panic-stricken I am one wayward kangaroo away from freaking out and rolling this thing approach.

stressed

Overall it was a pretty good trip. We caught up with friends and family along the way which helped to break up the tedium of sitting in a car for hours on end. Of course, the best thing of all was finally reaching our destination. Specifically, the welcoming committee that awaited us in the toilet of our new house.

home

I am home.

The Cicada Shells

As a youngster I was an enormous nature lover – I spent most of my days looking under fallen leaves for beetles and breeding tadpoles every rainy season – so it’s no surprise that Harry Butler was one of my childhood idols. I believed he was magical because every rock or branch he turned over revealed an animal of some kind. I wanted to be just like Harry and never missed his show, In the Wild with Harry Butler.

One day my dad and I were in our backyard when he called me over and pointed to a small creature attached to a tree. It was hideous. It looked like a cross between a tarantula and a naked mole rat.

cicada in tree

To my surprise, my dad pulled it from the tree and held it out to me, as though I was supposed put my hand out to hold it. I looked at him like he was about to set me on fire and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be touching it anytime soon.

cicada shell

My dad tried to convince me that it was harmless, that it wasn’t even alive and was, in fact, just a shell. But it was the creepiest thing I had ever seen and I refused to go near it. I didn’t believe it was just a shell; I thought it was alive and perfectly capable of biting off one of my fingers.

After many minutes of trying to convince me of its harmlessness my dad gave me a choice: I could either hold the cicada shell or I wouldn’t get to watch Harry Butler that night. I was devastated – it was like Sophie’s Choice!

I thought about how repulsive the cicada shell was and how much I loved Harry Butler. I cried and pleaded with him, but he was resolute. I came to the conclusion that my dad was the meanest dad alive.

Harry Butler

My love for Harry was so strong that eventually I closed my eyes, held out my hand and waited for my dad to drop the repulsive creature in it. Suddenly, I felt the lightest touch on my palm, it was like a feather. I opened my eyes and took a closer look – it really was just a shell! I was instantly fascinated. From that moment on I was the cicada queen (and I got to watch Harry that night).

Not only was I no longer scared of cicada shells, I would seek out the live nymphs, put them on my shirt and let them hatch on me. I would then wear the empty shells on my clothes like badges. Cicadas were the most fascinating creatures I’d ever encountered.

cicada shirt

One day I found an unusually large amount of cicada shells on a tree in our front yard and instantly had an idea.

cicada tree

bucket

 

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door2

 

door3

 

mum

Dad, thanks for making me hold the cicada shell. Mum, you can blame dad for that one!

My Cat Has An Eating Disorder

For a long time I thought my cat was just wonderfully cuddly or wearing her winter fur, but after being asked if she was pregnant by at least nine people (including the guy who came to fix our bathroom tiles) I began to think that perhaps my perception was a little distorted.

There were definite signs that she had a problem.

Like the day we realised that our fish tank was just a big, glass pot-plant holder.

fish_tank

It’s not like I haven’t tried to help her slim down, I really have, but she always finds a way to thwart my efforts.

laundry4

The other day I fed the cat and dog and, as always, I fed the cat on top of the dryer so the dog can’t eat her food. After a few minutes I heard growling and barking coming from the laundry. This is what I found:

food_bowl

That’s right, apparently her food was just an appetiser and the dog’s food was her main meal. This discovery left me wondering two things; firstly, how many times has she done this without me knowing and secondly, why is my dog such a wimp?

So, I put my cat on yet another diet yesterday and I thought she was doing pretty well…that is, until I went to take the clothes out of the dryer.

laundry

As I bent down to retrieve the toasty-warm clothes I heard footsteps thundering so loudly through the house that, for a brief moment, I believed it might be the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

laundry1

I was confronted with a full-on assault!

laundry2

 

My cat, in the mistaken belief that (because I was in the laundry) she was about to be fed, leaped through the air with such force that she butted me fair in the head, knocked me off balance and crashed into the box of laundry powder atop the dryer, spilling its contents all over the floor.

leaping_cat

She then attempted to look cute and ask for food.

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Although I know this diet is good for my cat’s health, I’m not so sure that it’s good for mine.

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My Cunning Plan

I was a pretty naughty kid and got into my fair share of trouble. My real problem was that I just never fully thought things through. Like the day I found my little sister, Christie, emptying my favourite cereal onto the kitchen floor. She was having the time of her life.

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I was horrified! This was my favourite cereal in the whole world and it was being wasted! I was so mad! I was so shocked! I was so going to tell mum!

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I turned to go, when I suddenly realised that I had a real opportunity here to get my angelic little sister into a lot of trouble. The floor didn’t really look that bad, so the first thing I had to do was completely destroy the kitchen.

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I made a game of it.

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It was kinda fun.

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When I thought the kitchen looked bad enough I ran off to tell my mum. Christie was going to be in so much trouble. For once it would be her and not me; I would be the good child! Everybody would talk about the day that my sister destroyed the kitchen and wasted all that cereal. They’d talk about how naughty she was and shake their heads in despair. I could hardly wait for my mother to come and see what she had done!

I raced into mum’s bedroom and started shrieking hysterically about what Christie had done to the kitchen and how I had tried to stop her, but she was unstoppable in her rampage!

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My mother didn’t even look up from her magazine. She just said “Oh well, be a good girl and go clean it up.”

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Not only did Christie not get into any trouble, not only did I have to clean up what can only be described as clown vomit, but I was forced to eat boring, old Weet-Bix the next morning with the full awareness that it was my own stupid fault.

Reason #37 Why I’ll Never Understand My Husband

My husband has never been one for flowery speech or effusive compliments. Which is why I really should’ve known better the other night. Anyway, here’s what happened…

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As always, my husband started to walk away, but wanting to kindle some light flirtation, I persisted.

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Several minutes later my husband returned. The look on his face told me that he knew he had finally thought of the perfect thing to say. He would give me the ultimate compliment, one that would completely undo every excruciating moment of the previous five minutes.

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Honey, I just want to say, with love, and from the bottom of my heart, sometimes a girl just needs to hear that she’s hot.

You may also like Reason #48 Why I’ll Never Understand My Husband and Reason #72 Why I’ll Never Understand My Husband