Although horror is my absolute favorite genre of TV, movies, art and books (and sometimes even music), I get all spastic and overly-paranoid when it comes to movies that are based on or inspired by true events. So while I’ve been wanting to see The Strangers since it came out, I’ve been putting it off.
I tried watching it alone Thursday afternoon before work. The sun was out, Henry and Chooch were napping, I thought I could do it. I lasted maybe twenty minutes. Nothing had even happened yet, really, but Liv Tyler’s character was alone in the house while Ben from Felicity (RIP my favorite WB show) went to get her cigarettes and the suspense was literally making my veins pulse and my heart was beating so fast that I was starting to not breathe properly, so I paused it and woke up so he could be my audience as I repeatedly screeched, “I CAN’T WATCH IT I’M SO SCARED I CAN’T WATCH IT PLEASE COME DOWNSTAIRS I’M GOING TO DIE THEY’RE COMING TO GET ME I’M HUNGRY MAKE ME A SANDWICH AND WHERE’S MY DIAMOND RING IT’S BEEN SEVEN YEARS.”
That night at work, my boss Dave took a side job as Heart Attack Giver and had me clutching my chest every fifteen minutes. He fucking gets off on terrorizing me with loud, booming noises and one of these days, I’m going to be seeking workman’s comp because of him. Then I mistakenly told him that I was even jumpier because I had tried to watch that movie, so that gave him even more ammo and I began wishing I had a periscope to guide me around corners.
I looked in the rear view mirror every two seconds on the way home that night.
Last night, with big strong Henry by my side, I managed to watch that damn movie from beginning to end, biting off my pinkie nail in the process and taking mental note of all the ways some asshole could conceivably break into my house. It didn’t do any favors for my blood pressure.
As I tried to fall asleep afterward, I told Henry for the twenty billionth time that I would really like to buy a gun. “One of those tiny girly ones. With diamonds.” (I feel like we’ve had that conversation before.)
“Yeah right,” Henry mumbled into his pillow, which is coincidentally the same thing he says when I ask for a ring, and we fell asleep.