scary movies

My relationship with scary movies is simple: love-hate.

The love: I love being scared.

The hate: Every time I sit down in one of those not-quite-comfy-enough, high-back chairs and look up at the screen that seems to be practically close enough to touch, I find myself desperately trying to remember why I came back *again* to be scared out of my mind. And that's where it comes back to the Love...oh yeah, I love being scared.

I went to The Stepfather with two of my roommates last weekend in honor of Halloween, and once again realized the true love -- for some reason I love the thrill of being scared witless. Half the movie I was curled up on the seat covering my face with my hands and bracing myself for the next jump scene...which happen way to often and still manage to make me throw popcorn. The happy, cuddly couple in front of us thought that was lovely I'm sure.

The next night we watched When a Stranger Calls, which I've seen probably 34 times.

It gets scarier every. single. time.

I can't even walk around my apartment after the show's over! We checked under all the beds and behind doors to reassure our racing hearts, and it still took me hours before I could be alone. And that's after seeing it 34 times.