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At this point in time, my cat has seen nearly as many horror movies as I have. He sits on my lap, or lies on the coffee table, twitching at loud sound effects and occasionally glancing serenely at the screen, no doubt thinking: “Oh, bitch gonna git it! Don’t you open that!”

I really don’t watch anything but the scary stuff. I sometimes find myself accidentally watching some science fiction, or perhaps I turn on the television, and the Daily Show is on. I might enjoy some comedy, or drama, but I don’t seek it out like I do horror.

I’m not effected by horror anymore. I am the absolute definition of desensitized. However, I can tell on some subconscious level when something could conceivably frighten me. I’ll chomp some popcorn, and with nary a change of expression, think: “Now that? That scared me.” and then, sarcastically: “Yeah, ten years ago.” Why do I watch them, then? I find them interesting. It is the only form of media entertainment [besides videogames] that holds my attention. Give me a haunting, a violent beastie, an urban legend brought to life, and I’m hooked. I often care more about the back story than the on-screen carnage. And slasher films leave me cold, unless there’s a really inspired villain. There is nothing scary about a person being stabbed to death- but if the killer is wearing a mask of human skin to hide his hideous flesh disease? Movie gold.

This brings me to a critique of one of my favorite websites, Bloody-Disgusting.com. It keeps me up to date on all of the upcoming horror-goodness. It also looks at horror flicks as just that- movies to make you squirm. They’re not reviewed on the caliber of acting, or stunning dramatic weave. They’re reviewed as horror films, not Oscar-gleaning period pieces. This is good. The bad, however? In the many many reviews I’ve clicked through, there’s an annoying trend. That of picking on the female audience. When a movie is a dud, the reviewer will chortle something about it being the ideal film to bring your girlfriends. Or if a movie is particularly biting, a warning against heading in with the fairer sex. They’ll have nightmares for weeks, the poor sweet things!

You know, I’m not going to yell “Hello!” and point at myself. Instead, I’ll point at my fiance. He’s the biggest chicken this side of the hellgate. He likes the lights on, and the sun shining, and often asks me if we can watch something else when the scares pile up.

Yesterday, my younger sister and my father went to the beach to see if any clams or lobsters washed up during the aftermath of Noel.  They came back with a shopping bag of ten huge clams. My father put them in a big pot together and the clams proceeded to stick their big tongue-like appendages out and move around the pot, making sighing noises and bumping into each other. This was a little much for me, and I started to feel extremely pit-in-my-stomach bad for these clams who were going to be boiled alive and transformed into stuffed quahogs. In the end I rescued the largest most active clam, named him Reginald, and my father returned to the beach and hucked him into the surf. A compromise of sorts.

My dad had to go to the supermarket for clam-meal ingredients. Said supermarket is a small Stop and Shop across the street from where I live. It’s set up so that when you walk in, the first thing you see is the “On Sale” section. This little floating aisle is packed with cake mixes, snack packs, pancake batter, syrup, sugar, etc. The end cap facing the door is cookies and donuts from the store’s bakery. The end cap on the opposite side is dieting items. Yeah- attached to “Sweet and Yummy” sale section. Boxes of meal bars, Slim-fast Shakes, those 100 Calorie bags of tiny snack foods. It’s insidious. Now, I don’t hold with the theory that fat people are fat because they eat too much, and poorly. But the majority of society has been steered to believe this. So, taking into consideration the [unfortunately] widely held belief that men and women are fat because they eat cakes, cookies and Doritos non-stop, the strategic placement of diet items following the “bad” foods is a Dr. Claw style marketing scheme. I know this isn’t breaking news or anything- it’s just that noticing a blatant attempt to manipulate in my own tiny supermarket brings it home. Makes me sigh.

Diet food is also insanely expensive, as I’m sure you all know. The Advantage Meal Bars come in boxes of five. First, that’s just weird. Six is the magic number. Maybe four. Never five. What’s more, this silly little box of weight loss is almost seven dollars. And the diet industry is really a nefarious murder-by-starvation plot. Each “meal bar” in this particular brand is 150 calories. That’s it. If you replaced all three meals with one of  these little sugar-free candy bars, you’d only be taking in 450 calories or so. As a recovering anorexic, I can tell you right now that 450 is the kind of calorie count that makes a food-disturbed mind go “Whoo-hoo!” and regardless of whether or not the company that makes these is advertising replacing all three meals with said bars, or just a breakfast swap-out… 150 is not a meal.

Okay, now I’m going to abruptly stop complaining, and introduce my cat, Hades. I’m fairly certain that he is quite nearly one of the cutest cats [if not the cutest] living in the world today. I know, I know. Everyone will want to argue this. It’s like the parent who is certain their child is the smartest, prettiest and most gifted. But let me tell you, I’ve known some cats in my day. An aunt on my mother’s side had over thirty cats at one point. I’ve had fuzzy mewling kittens, and roly-poly chubby cats. None of them can touch Hades. If he wasn’t so skiddish around strangers, he would be in show business. He’d be hocking Friskies, or searching for his scent-free litter box. He’d be on the label of extremely soft toilet paper, and the whole world would agree that the Meow Mix commercials were hugely improved by Hades’s “angel vocals”. He’s cute, okay? Rly rly.

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