Sunday, May 31, 2009
Now, on to the meat of my post! I'm supposed to be reading for my second history "midterm", hilarious because a week after that is my final in the class and then I'm off for summer break. But I can only handle so much Aristotle in one sitting before I want to go back in time and punch him for being an elitist prick, so I'm taking a break, eating some chips and cheese with home made guacamole for dinner, and contemplating things that scare me.
Has anyone reading this ever had a frightening phone call, either from a prankster, a perv, or a wrong number? I have had all three, and even though long past, they still chill me a bit.
The first was your standard perv. The story is kind of funny now, simply because of how my approximately ten year old mind processed and filed what I heard. This was around 1987 or so; caller ID was pretty scarce and prank calling people was rampant (my personal favorite was to call someone and as fast as I could spit it out say "IknowwhoyouareIknowwhatyoudidIwantsomesex!" This I'm sure led to horror for my recipients, for what is more terrible than the breathless voice of an elementary school aged girl?! Usually people just laughed at me.). Our phone rang, and I answered it politely, as I had been drilled to do.
"Hello, **** residence, how many I help you?" A little receptionist in training was I! A strangely familiar voice pleasantly responded, asking to talk to my mother. "I'm sorry, she's not here right now. Can I take a message?" Instead of responding to that, she asked my name. I told her it was Stacy. This voice was driving me slightly crazy; I recognized it, I knew I did, but couldn't place who it was. To my memory, some twenty years later, it sounded like Whoopie Goldberg. Not even kidding here.
She then asked me if I was ticklish. I had been happy to talk to her up til this point; so far she had just been a friendly person on the line. "Who is this?" I asked her. "You know who this is," was all I got in response. "No, really, who is this? So I can tell Mom to call you back." "Where are you ticklish, Stacy?" she said in reply.
"Who is this?" I was still polite-- I got in trouble if my dad caught me being snotty on the phone. I was getting really uneasy though, and was too young to realize this as an internal red flag. "Are you ticklish on your chest? Are your nipples ticklish?" The red flag was now a klaxon in my head screaming "ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!" I really should have told her to go fuck herself and damned the consequences. She was obviously going to anyway. Instead I start repeating myself over and over and over, trying to irritate her name out of her. "Who is this? Who are you? What's you name? Who is this?" etc. Hey, it worked with my younger and older brothers. She ignored me and kept asking increasingly more personal questions: "Are you ticklish on your legs? What about between your legs? Are you ticklish there? Do you want me to tickle you there?" Now I'd just turn the tables and be as crude as humanly possible right back, but I was young and untried, and just continued with my Campaign to Irritate.
My dad came in at this point, wanting to know what all the ruckus was. I told him, over her increasingly more pervy questions about my ticklish places. He told me to hang up, as it was an obscene phone call, my very first one involving sex. Sure, I'd had kids my age call up and scream curse words and then hang up; heck, I'd done it myself more than once. But not from an adult, asking such intrusive questions. I slammed the phone down, and we tried to puzzle out if it was indeed someone we knew, or if it was just a familiar sounding voice. I told them that she sounded like Whoopie Goldberg, got a strange look in reply, and that was the end of it really, save for the addition of the whistle. Afterward my dad got a really strong whistle from Base, and we were instructed to use it on perverts, something I looked forward to with glee. Whoopie never called back, sadly, and I never did figure out why that voice sounded familiar. I'd think about it occasionally, usually long after I was in bed, and got creeped out. I was half afraid she would climb up to the second floor where I slept, to get me.
Now I'm just grossed out by someone who gets thrills off of scaring little girls, and befuddled, because let's admit it: that's pretty fucking weird.
For the record: yes, I am ticklish. But only me and my hairdresser know for sure where.
Please, share your freaky phone calls, heavy breathers, weird text messages, what have you! I'd love to hear them! Unless it's Whoopie. Than it's not funny anymore!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
There are Monsters is a short Canadian film written and directed by Jay Dahl and it gives me the creeps something fierce!
So I'm sharing.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Expect a review soon.
Until then? Another True Life Adventure.
I was convinced my husband was a serial killer.
I am an avid SCAer. For those not in the "wow, that's really nerdy" world, SCA stands for Society of Creative, Anachronisms. It sounds impressive but really it all boils down to medieval reenactment. I'm one of those people who prance around in medieval clothes and shouts "Huzzah!" a lot. I do not throw magic missiles though. Those are LARPers and my involvement is strictly historical and alcohol related. On the geek hierarchy I fit somewhere between Civil War reenenactors and Ren Fair Rats. I'm also extremely paranoid. I've watched enough horror films and episodes of Dateline to be convinced that anyone could be a maniac slasher killer out to get me.
The SCA is where I met my husband. He was the "newbie greeter" when I decided to join the society after grad school. I emailed my soon the be husband asking him for information on where to get started. We exchanged pleasantries and he emailed me his cell phone number to contact him with any other questions. I hesitated then took a chance and called him. My husband has a deep voice. Deep enough that it conjured images of a large, twitching man in a dirty T-shirt sitting in his mother's basement playing with a butcher knife. Yes, this is how my mind works. We chatted a moment and I mentioned that I was going to the newcomers meeting. I found he was WAY to enthusiastic to pick me up and drive me. Of course, my brain instantly went to the "he's a serial killer!" scenario and I declined the ride. I even gave him a fake description of myself when he said he'd look out for me at the newcomers meeting. I did eventually come clean that night and introduced myself after finally seeing him. He wasn't a large dirty mama's boy to my relief. His reply was "Hey, you're not Mexican!". He asked me out shortly after. I did say yes because he was funny and good looking. But as usual, I still had the nagging feeling that he could be Ted Bundy. Ted Bundy was funny and good looking too right?
On our first date, I insisted I drive. Because I felt if I was behind the wheel, I was in control. Keep in mind that I absolutely hate driving. I hate driving with a passion. If public transportation in San Diego was actually worth anything, I'd probably spend my time taking buses and trolleys instead of sitting in traffic cursing out the lady with the breast implants in front of me putting on lipstick in her rear view mirror whilst running over a small child. But regardless, my need to survive outweighed my road rage. I got lost on route to his house, almost ended up in Orange County somehow (don't ask), then finally made it to his place where I met up with him and his roommate at the time. His roomie was a stocky bald man who had an insanely intense gleam in his eye. A gleam that said "Nice ass, I'm going to make a hat out of it". Perhaps they worked together to grind up women's bodies and stuff them into sausages? I didn't want to know. But I felt uneasy when his roomie muttered in a low guttural voice "Have a good tiiiiime" then laughed manically as we walked out the door. The date went well other than my soon to be husband holding me hostage in his living room and forcing me to watch episodes of Firefly. Luckily I enjoyed Firefly and did not see this as torture.
The final scenario of this on going thought that my husband was a serial killer came when he drove me to my first SCA event down in the deserts of Imperial Valley aka...The Hills Have Eyes territory. The site was about an hour drive away through rocky hills and long lines of desert. I'm sure there was more than one hillbilly behind a rock with a sniper riffle out there. My soon to be husband picked me up with his good friend. His good friend was a six foot tall gangly guy who had pointy teeth wore goggles, a kimono, and a paint ball belt. He talked with a British accent but was NOT from England. I blinked, swallowed, and foolishly went with them anyways. Any good horror movie girl would have slammed the door in their face but being the adventurous type (I.E. stupid) I went along.
We all sat in the small cab of my soon to be husband's white Ford Ranger. It was cramped and I was stuck in the middle with my feet on the hump between a could be Ted Bundy and his friend Samurai Shark Boy. I really had no idea where we were going since I was still relatively new to San Diego. The scenery became more and more rural. The houses started to disappear. Soon we were driving through rocky desert terrain with no other soul in site. We were the only friggin' truck on the road. My soon to be husband and his friend proceeded to talk paint ball and guns. LOTS of guns. They own guns. BIG guns. They like to shoot things with guns. Guns go Bang. I Own fifty bazillion guns. Lets go shoot some guns. Boy do we like guns!
I had the following plan all mapped out in my head. They'd soon pull over to do me in right? Probably over by that rock pile since its a good place to hide the body. As soon as the truck would come to a stop I would punch the little Ted Bundy one in the balls then jab my keys in the tall one's eye and twist. I could blind the tall one long enough to push him out of my way and run for the hills. I'd take my chances with the hillbillies. My keys were at the ready in my hand the entire ride.
Luckily nothing came to pass.
On the way home that night, my soon to be husband and I were sitting alone in the truck. Samurai Shark Boy caught a ride home with another friend so it was just us. My soon to be husband looked at me and asked 'You seem tense."
I replied "A bit"
"I think you're a serial killer"
He blinked, then laughed and said "Ah...guess I'll have to kill you now."
Yeah, after that, it was love.
Well first some screaming, then love.
We dated for three years and we've been married for seven months now. I'm still trying to find the bodies of his previous girlfriends but I figured they'd be pretty hard to find in our tiny apartment.
...I'm still looking though.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Considering the amount of spirited beverages I consumed I would like to point out to Stac that I am NOT a slacker...you light weight.
You bitches are ruthless! I mean it!
When you have you're hearts set on someone there is no holding you back is there?
In other words...
That was a shitty attempt at a joke. I won't deny that.
Samara will return later for more fights
Moving on from creepy nightmare children, this next round we put up the two old farts of horror.
For me, this is a very hard choice. Both of these men scare the gravy out of me. On one hand we have a scary old bastard who has the hordes of the undead on his side, on the other...well..almost the same thing but in a completely different scenario.
Either way, both of these fellas gave me nightmares at one point in my life.
Lets see them in action.
Here's Kane giving himself a creepy intro to the family. He doesn't do much but honestly, does he have to?
And here's the Tall Man. Lets face it, we all at one point feared seeing that over our bed.
On a sort of but not really related note. I knew a gentleman who looked exactly like the Tall Man. His name was Aubrey and he was probably the kindest, most soft spoken, gentle soul I ever met in my life. But for the first month meeting him I was terrified to talk to him and feared I'd see him in my full length mirror at night.
Which old surly bastard will reign? Which will have to haul out the BenGay after his ass whoopin' ?!
The winner will be announced next week!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
I’m the opposite; I have a really vivid imagination, and while that’s great when my C.S professor starts to drone on, it means that occasionally I’ll wake up in the night and my memory decides to play some really nasty tricks on me. Things that aren’t terrifically scary by daylight take on sinister shadows in the middle of a black as pitch bedroom, I promise.
As a kid I was particularly susceptible to night terrors brought on by all manner of things; I drove my older brother and sister nuts when I was in elementary school, because I was introduced to that time honored ritual known as Bloody Mary. I was literally afraid to close my eyes because I was sure that Bloody Mary would somehow come out of the darkness of my eyelids and get me. Now imagine what Jason Vorheese did to me. I was a wuss, I freely admit it, and horror movies were my Achilles heel, particularly because I had a real talent for walking in on them at the wrong time, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts.
But as a fairly convincing mock-up of an adult, I have acquired a taste for horror movies and drive my roommate nuts with them on a regular basis-- I’m pretty sure she’ll go to her grave cursing the existence of the Sci Fi Channel. As a result, not a whole lot scares me now, but when it does man does it hit me good. So here is a list, from childhood as well as maturity, of shit that kept me up at nights, and in a few instances, not sure where to look for safety.
#1 is from An American Werewolf in London. I saw parts of this around the time it appeared on vhs; my older siblings particularly liked it. I missed most of the bloodier scenes, but I saw the dream scene while far too young and impressionable. Here’s the weird bit, this picture terrified me, for years. I was afraid to look at anything with an edge, because I was convinced that would pop up at me. Weird, no?
#2 is from the remake of Dawn of the Dead (2004). That whole movie was a serious skull fuck for me; I honestly think I had heart palpitations the whole time, and I know that neither me, Bevin, or Malinda slept the night we saw this. I think part of it was because we saw it opening night on the first showing. There was a lot of buzz but I deliberately kept myself from any spoilers.
I don't know why, but that movie about killed me. Bevin's not a horror fan, at all, so I don't think she's forgiven me to this day for that. The worst part though was the very beginning, the morning that it happens, when the main character's neighbor kid, Vivian comes in. I swear, the scene where she's thrown down the hallway and springs back up to her feet, I saw in my head over and over and over, especially when I was trying to sleep. This clip below isn't that great, but I can't find just that scene, so here's the trailer. The actual scene in the movie is much more tense, and you can really see how mangled Vivian's face is.
#3 is the face of Pazuzu that was "subliminally" inserted into the original The Exorcist. I did not see this movie until the summer after I had graduated from high school. I was the queen of watching up until the last minute and then hiding my eyes. Well the beauty of this film is: ya never see it coming! WOOOO! I had a fucking heart attack at the age of 18.
Interesting trivia: did you know that's actually a woman? An actress named Eileen Dietz. According to her imdb.com page, she even has an identical twin which means, oh shit, there are two Pazuzus running around out there. Sleep tight, I know I will! The Pazuzu face has become a bit of a pop culture trope and has popped up in other productions. I tend to pee myself a lot when that happens. The worst was when I was reading an issue of Hellboy Weird Tales. Guess who!
Thanks, Jason Pearson! From me and my bladder, both!
That's enough for now; I need to go find my silky and hide under my covers for a little bit.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Punish her viciously via email.
I keed, of course, and she knows it and probably won't poison me this summer, so I shall shower you with awkward segues and a story. I am also (AGAIN) sick, so hopefully this will help keep me from clawing my eyes outs and scratching them vigorously.
This tale happened to me at a friend's birthday party when we were all in 8th grade. It was myself, Jay (it was her birthday), and Tessa. Tessa and I were spending the night, and since Jay's parents were concerned and involved in their daughter's life, they promptly left us at their home, alone, and went drinking at the VFW. Ah, the late '80's. So there we have three adolescent girls. It had been a huge party with big chunks of Jay's family there, some other friends who lived in her neighborhood (including my first boyfriend, Jason. He was a dangerous older man! He was.. A HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN!), and over time a very hot day became a very hot night, and after a big party and bbq everyone eventually drifted back to whence they came. So it was just the three of us, alone, on a very hot Southern night.
As I was the transplanted Yankee and this was pre-Internet, they decided to regale me with local horror stories and some folk lore. Started out with le loup garou, Louisiana's own unique werewolf story, carried over by French settlers back in the day, and finding the bayous a fertile place to thrive, became its own entity over time. It's pretty cool, and I did a lot of reading up on it when I lived down south. Then it moved on; I told them about Ted Bundy (I used to live in Tacoma, where he was from), and they told me about the Garden District Killer, a mad rapist who fr some reason only crawled, one who would attack you, rape you (predictably with a title like that), and if he bit you, you would become a foaming lunatic and die. When I showed skepticism at this, my friend told me it was rabies and AIDS all mixed together. We were 12 and 13; it goes without saying that we were dumb.
The night wore on, and we spent several hours freebasing ice cream, cake, pop, and chocolate milk. We also found that USA Up All Night was showing the two same movies, over and over again. Why just these two? I have no fucking clue. The movies in question were Black Christmas, and (I think?) The Unnamable. Now, I'm going to break this down for some of our readers, because I know we have a few guys. Teenaged girls, especially preteens, are excitable. Reeeeeeally excitable, and the number of girls in a pack (and yes, teen girls ARE pack animals-- predators, usually) is proportionate to the hyperactivity they produce. If one gets worked up, eventually they all do, and fast. That's why they're so loud. On the plus side, as hormones calm, this ebbs.
Now imagine what I just told you, and apply it to a pack of three, inexperienced with horror movies. Now imagine how hard this ratchets up the tension in the house-- with no hyperbole at all I'm frankly stunned shit didn't start going all poltergeist on us because of all of the energy going wild in that little house. I have no idea how many calories we consumed or how many times we watched those movies, but we were getting WOUND UP.
Then it happened.
It was probably about 3 am; we'd long passed punchy and were coming around to it again, trying to fight off sleep. I was getting my fourteenth glass of Coke that hour, and Jay was trying to get Tessa to scream (something ridiculously easy to do). At first I thought it was just part of it, and didn't pay attention initially when Jay asked it. She asked it again.
"Did you hear that?"
Four cliched words in a horror movie, of course, but I was too young to know that. At first I was mad at her, thinking she was deliberately trying to scare us. As I have a slew of older cousins in all ages, I'd been wound up like this before and had the shit scared out of me for their efforts. I tended to shut behavior like this down and fast at that time in my life. But Jay's eyes were suddenly huge, and her dog, a young black lab named Jewel, was going ape in the backyard. So we all got very quiet, freezing up and not moving, listening. I don't think we even breathed; I know I didn't.
At first I had no idea what Jay was referencing; all I could hear was the click of the air conditioner, a broken rhythm I was suddenly aware I had been hearing for some time. "The A/C doesn't make that sound," she suddenly whispered.
I had never had the experience of all of my muscles suddenly going on lock down, independently of my wishes; this was the first time. I think we were all like that, no one moved. We just listened.
It was a patient sound, like it knew that eventually we would have to notice it, and comment on it. All I had noticed was the tapping. When we all suddenly shut up we heard the rest of it. Tap tap Tap. Then scratch scratch scratch. Tap tap tap. Scratch scratch scratch. Over and over. "What is that?" Tessa whispered. All I could do was whimper.
It's hard to focus when you're scared. It's hard to think of anything other than being scared. Finally, someone suggested letting Jewel in. We were all for it, except that she was in her pen, and we were too scared to cross the back lawn to let her out-- the backyard was totally consumed in shadow and we were too afraid to let whatever this was know we were aware of it. "Call your parents!" I blurted out. Surely if we made someone else aware of this then it would just turn out to be something silly, right? Right?
Well, I have no idea if you've ever tried to find someone at a bar on a Friday night, but it's much more difficult than it sounds, namely because none of the bar tenders seem to give a fuck about your problems. The guy at the VFW certainly did not, and eventually he hung up on us, then did it again when we called back. We then tried to call Jason, but knew that his mother turned off their phone's ringer after 9 pm. We tried anyway, just in case, but knew we were all alone. It was a strange feeling; had I simply had the courage to walk across the living room and look out their picture window, I'd have seen Jason's house. It's weird to be literally surrounded and feel like you are all alone, to see help and not be able to access it. All the while the patient sound continued, tap.. tap.. tap.. scratch.. scratch.. scratch..
We finally realized where the sound was coming from-- the front door, recessed off of their car port. Jay tried to turn on the front porch light to no avail-- when I suggested hopefully that the light had burned out, Jay told me that her mother had her replace the bulb that day, and it had been tested successfully. We had no idea what was going on, but it suddenly took on a sinister and deliberate feel, like we had been thwarted at every turn. All I could think about was that stupid story of the crawling mad man who would rape you and bite you and you would die. I did not want to die. I did not want my friends to die. We decided we would have to open that door.
Not let me take a moment to explain why we didn't call the police-- namely it was because of our age. We were afraid that if we called the police it would turn out to be nothing, and we would get into trouble. Now I would call the police in a heart beat, but we were simply too inexperienced to know what to do.
Each of us grabbed a flimsy weapon-- I had the ice cream scoop, Tessa the phone, and Jay a plastic ruler. We inched toward the front door, slowly, trying to move at the same time so that no one went ahead and no one lagged behind. Jay undid the deadbolt as quietly as she could, but it had a tendency to stick, and the tumblers turned noisily. She decided that speed was to our benefit now, and threw the door open, hard, so hard it slammed into the wall and bounced off the door stop.
For a moment there was nothing, just a doorway that opened to a black so deep it was completely featureless, static. It wasn't things in the dark, it just was The Dark.
Then a shape jumped out at us, and we all screamed.
It wasn't a ghost. It wasn't a drooling, crawling lunatic. It was Jason, my soon to be boyfriend. That son of a bitch had apparently been laying out there for an hour, after carefully unscrewing the bulb to the porch light. He'd gotten a stick, pressed himself against the wall, and then tapped and scratched at us until we broke and took that bait. As soon as it registered, we all attacked him. He ended up wearing cake, ice cream, and my scrappy, preteen form on his back until he managed to shake me loose. Eventually, after some seriously hysterical laughter from us all, getting yelled at by (rightfully so) pissed off neighbors, we went back in, and watched those movies, again, over and over, until I fell asleep.
Obviously, this is not a true ghost story; there were no supernatural elements. But it was a terrifying moment while it lasted.
The truly scary part of this story is that a month later I was dating that, folks!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The first is Potty Ghosts in Tibet:
This second is way creepier, and has to do with a story that has scared me badly ever since it first came to my attention a few years back. The Entity is a movie made in 1981, starring Barbara Hershey. It's about a single mother who is beaten and raped on a repeated and violent basis; it's also at least partially based on a true story. I've read a few interviews with the staff involved in investigating this, and the details of what eventually befell the woman, Doris, was always vague. Turns out she died in 1995 of cardiac arrest, and I pray to God she's at peace. Here's an interview with one of her children about what actually happened, and it's terrifying anyway you look at it:
Monday, May 18, 2009
For starters, the names of the main character and his romantic interest is: Diego and Maria! Clever! I personally think they should have named her Dora, but that's simply because that would have been hilarious. I work with kids; I take my laughs where I gets 'em. I guess we should just be grateful his name wasn't Juan or Jose; I just would love to see some slightly more creative Spanish names, like Octavio or Lorena. Of course all of the honkies are skeptics and all of the brown folk are mystical and or highly Roman Catholic. Personally, if I'm being chased by Billy Drago, in drag (must.. resist..joke..!!!), with a knife, answering to the name "Catrina", I'd run and keep my ass running. I would NOT go to the local shrine and pray.
Apparently this movie is based on El Muerto, The Aztec Mummy, a comic written and drawn by Javier Hernandez, and that title sums this up well, though he was less mummy and more zombie. Sorta. (EDIT: Stac read good! The title IS ..Aztec Zombie and not mummy. I misread it TWICE. How fucking sad is that?) I'd really like to read this, though, as it ties in with what I liked about this movie-- it had a very strong Dia de Los Muertos theme, something I'm personally fascinated with. So I dig the costuming and the set dressing, for sure. (Speaking of horror, my cat just sneezed. All over my bare shoulder. Now it is drying in the breeze. Delightful!)
Over all I liked it just fine in a brainless, something on t.v. while I'm reading Herodotus (I'm a history major, not just pretentious, I swear.) kinda way. And really, you have Billy Drago as A WOMAN. He is supposed to be a WOMAN. He wears a DRESS and a WIG. Worth the price of printing the dvd, right there!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Cast your vote for Monsters Vs Madmen!
Can you tell Stac and I are having fun with our new little feature?
So once again its filler fun time! I figured I should share with you some up and coming movies that I'd like to try and catch. Most of you probably have seen these trailers so please voice your opinion! I love a good discussion!
First movie I am really chomping at the bit for is Sam Rami's return to his horror roots, Drag Me to Hell.
The Main Reason I'm stoked about this other than it looking like a good balls to the walls horror film is that its not a remake or a reboot. Don't get me wrong, there are some remakes out there I really loved. But frankly I'm starting to get a little bored with the concept. I hope this movie does well and injects a little life into mainstream horror.
Yeah, not really a horror film but I'm sure there will be insane gore...well, I HOPE there will be. Say what you will about Tarentino, the guy knows how to make an entertaining movie. And my favorite little pocket sized gore hound is in it.
I found out about District 9 from Freddy In Space (Thanks Johnny!) I'm a sucker for viral campaigns. Unfortunately I haven't had enough time to search for the viral websites for this. If you've seen them, link me? What intrigues me the most is the alien scene. This doesn't look like a typical Sci-Fi/Horror.
Just found this while surfing Youtube. I wish I read French! Anyone heard of this yet? From what I researched, its a French zombie flick. This excites me like a little girl at Christmas. You can find some stills and the poster here.
I saw the trailer for this before Star Trek. This looks like it has a lot of Event Horizon influence. I really loved Event Horizon so I'm hoping its up that alley.
So those are my picks so far. COme Share yours! What are you looking forward to?
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Monsters Vs. Madmen!
Samara Vs Gage!
The polls will remain open for a bit longer since I'll be out of town most of next week.
So check out the post and shout out who you want to win if you haven't yet!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
You people are ruthless.
Kayako is dead!
There wasn't one vote for our poor frog throated siren. Samara has ruthlessly slaughtered her . Of course that really comes as no surprise to me. Samara does kill for the sheer fun of it.
Congrats Samara, you have made it to the next round!
So now its creepy kid vs. creepy kid as our sadistic little student film maker goes up against a undead little high pitched gremlin of evil.
Here's Samara showing that all evil little girls in a well need is a hug from mommy in The Ring 2.
And here's Gage showing G'pa Jud his aptitude toward medical school in Pet Cemetary.
Which creepy little shit will reign?!
Vote now! The winner will be announced next week!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I'm not afraid of being attacked by a rapist or mugger in one (though holy CRAP would that suck). No, I'm afraid of ghosts.
Not the usual ghosts, either. No cute l'il floating sheets, no little white blobs named Casper. I'm thinking more of The Eye, Ring, Silent Hill type ghosts. As I sit, trying desperately to pee, I keep thinking, what happens if I see some bare feet in the bathroom? What if they come toward me? But not walking or anything, instead, it's more like dragging; the toes curled under, nails broken and dirty, as the mottled, gray, lesioned flesh scraaaaaapes across the tiles toward where my poor butt is naked and defenseless?
What would you do? Scream? But then it knows for sure that you're in there. Can't make any noise; this is classic monster under the bed territory, here-- it can't attack you until you acknowledge it.
Would you open the stall door, and bolt for freedom? But then you've seen it, and it's seen you, and now it's real, it's not something potential, it is something actualized, and there is now no way to avoid it. For some reason I can never imagine a face or form as terrible to see as those two, disembodied feet, waiting for me.
It makes it really, really hard to pee.
Monday, May 11, 2009
I'm working on little sleep and I'm feeling incoherent. So this is going to be REALLY unfocused.
There is your warning.
So without further ado.
I really love John Carpenter movies.
And I'm not just saying that because of Halloween. Not that Halloween isn't awesome. Its a classic, a staple in the horror genre, and imitated but every other horror film out there. Yes Halloween is awesome.
But My love for John Carpenter started with his other films. Films like The Thing, Big Trouble in Little China, Vampires, and They Live are the films where I developed my love of his work....well okay, its where I developed a love of his male characters.
Of course, my favorite films of his are probably the most macho ones he's made. Which makes me completely fascinated by his most macho males. If you've been reading this blog you've known by now that I'm a lady who loves her ladies tough. And lets face it, most of his females are not very strong. Actually most of them are whiny, whorish, both, or not even present in the film. But that's neither here nor there. I actually love Carpenter men because of the machismo. There's something about a buffed up blustering guy sporting a mullet that is extremely entertaining to me. Hypnotic as well.
No, its not the mullet.
I think the reason the overblown testosterone works for me with his movies is that the characters are both charming and almost borderline parody. Jack Burton in Big Trouble in Little China is so hilariously inept that his bad ass boasting is completely charming to me. Maybe I have a crush on Jack Burton? Yeah, probably.
Its not the mullet though. I swear to God its not.
The man is a wizard!
And don't get me started on Keith David. Seriously. I'm already a huge fan of the cartoon Gargoyles. (Big enough fan that I staff a Gargoyles convention... Don't Judge Me!). Keith David never looked, acted, or sounded more appealing in both The Thing and They Live. Double for They Live.
So my love of these guys are quite the paradox in my head. In real life I would meet these guys and cause them some sort of bodily harm after about two minutes of conversation. In other films I would tear my hair out and scream "DIE ALREADY!!!" at the movie scream. But John Carpenter manages to write these characters into awesome, bad ass, fun, and fascinating fellas. And I really can't get enough of 'em.
I can't be alone in this can I?
Well most of the followers are men so I may well possibly be.
Also, did you ever notice that the Masculinity in his movies almost boarder lines on homoerotic?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
So I am stealing a concept from another blog I read. The other blog is totally non horror related but I think we can make the concept work here. What TLo does is put celebs they like up against each other in a series Thunderdome of cat fights.
Their latest is Virgins vs Vixens. My money's on the vixens...because us bitches need to stick together.
Anyways I felt like doing the same thing because if anything, it will amuse me. And this blog is mostly about keeping Stac and I amused.
So We present to you, Monsters vs Madmen!
We'll be putting our favorite assholes and crazy creatures up against each other each week. You vote in the comments section for who you think would win! The long time survivors will go up against each other in a fight to the death not unlike Freddy vs Jason...but probably with more giggling and texting...until one reigns supreme!!
So lets get this catfight started!
We'll start with the Madmen first.
We'll be starting with our smaller teared madmen first. Here's a battle I mentioned a long while ago. But since they're creepy bitches I though I thought it would be appropriate for a first fight out...since Stac and I are creepy bitches.
Kayako from Ju-On
Samara from The Ring.
Here's Kayako in action in Ju-On 2...lets face it. it takes a lot of guts to come crawling out of a lady's hoo ha.
And here's Samara at her most vengeful...shes a relentless bitch.
Which freaky bitch will reign supreme?!
Give us your votes!! We'll announce the winner Next Week!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Okay, its been WAY too quiet around here.
A week? We went a whole week with no posts? What the hell is wrong with us broads, huh!?
Okay Stac DID post...so that just makes me the loser. I'll admit that.
So one great thing about when I go home to visit my mom and dad other than the cooking is that they have premium cable. We're talking the works. EVERY channel. So at night when everyone is asleep except me (because I have issues sleeping in a different bed than I'm used to) I get to catch up on movies or laugh my ass off at soft core porn until I finally pass out.
One of the films I managed to catch was Behind the Mask: The Rise of Lesley Vernon. Now I've been curious about this movie for a while now. What I've read about it was mostly mixed. Some people think its wonderful, some people think its lame. I was pleasantly surprised by the film.
Now I wouldn't go on to say that Holy Crap! this is the end all be all of horror movie shaky cam comedies!...wow, that is a bit of a specialized niche. The movie has some flaws, mostly with its pacing but overall I found the film fun, pretty darn clever, and almost sentimental.
Here's the trailer
Behind the Mask is about a documentary team who is working with a gentleman named Lesley Vernon. Lesley is a killer much in the same vein as Jason, Freddy, and Michael Myers. In fact I was lead to believe that the trio mentioned above were real people in this movie's universe. Lesley invites the crew to follow him on his little escapade into slaughter, showing them and us the ins and outs of the biz.
Now the summary sounds pretty basic. When I read it I thought I had the whole movie figured out. But Behind the Mask does take some unexpected turns. I expected Lesley to be a creepy hulking fellow but he really is just a guy. And not just a guy but a really nice, funny, and charming guy. Lesley is probably a guy who you'd love to go out and have a few beers with, maybe shoot some pool. And Hell, if he said one day 'Hey! lets go slaughter some teens!" chances are you'd get so caught up in his enthusiasm you'd reply "Sure!" followed by a long "Woooooo!". You can give that to the credit of actor Nathan Baesel who plays him with such sweetness that you really find yourself rooting for the guy to get his kills in.
The movie gives you a very tongue in cheek inside look at the head of a slasher killer. throughout the film, Lesley gives the crew an explanation of various horror film cliches such as how a killer picks out his victims or how they just keep coming back to life. I think my favorite part of the film was when Lesley takes his crew to meet his mentor, an old slasher killer from the late sixties/early seventies. He's settled down with an adorable wife and they all sit around swapping war stories and such. The whole scenario is so incredibly normal that you don't even think about what they're really talking about.
Behind the Mask is shot in a mockumentary style way, less like the nausea inducing camera work of Cloverfield and more steady and sure like Spinal Tap. While most of the film is shot in this style, it does switch to "Real Horror Movie Mode" where you jump out of the documentary and go right into an old fashion horror movie complete with creepy lighting and mood music. It jarred me a bit at first but after a second I found the whole idea really hilarious and just went with it.
The movie starts out pretty light hearted even borderline parody. Then it slowly starts to take a left turn and you catch glimpses Lesley's dark side. The becomes tense and suspenseful with really great old fashion slasher chase sequence. While the parody moments are fun and cheeky, the movie is rather well rounded showing humor, suspense, fear, and even sadness.
Overall Behind the Mask is a labor of love. You can tell the film makers love the genre they're working in and what could appear to be a mocking parody comes across more as a loving tribute to slasher films. The characters are appealing, the story is clever, and it also has Robert Englund in a small part and frankly, that makes about any horror film better.
So if you're looking for a fun film, definitely check out Behind the Mask. Its not life changing but its entertaining and worth the rental fee for sure.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
First, I have a movie recommend! Six String Samurai is, for those who have no yet seen it, about what happened when the Russians won the Cold War in 1956. Basically, America is a nuclear wasteland, with Lost Vegas being the last bastion of freedom, ruled over by the benevolent King Elvis. But the king is old, and many are filing in to claim his throne. Our main character is Buddy. It's never actively named, but it is very clear that this is Buddy Holly, a man in a zoot suit, carrying his guitar with a katana sword taped to the back of it, with a tattered umbrella. He's a ronin, of sorts, and is off to Vegas to claim the throne. He is forced to take on the care of a young boy, and the two of them frequently face off against Death, in the form of thrash metal. This movie was freaking SWEET.
I'm not going to go too into it, because its bizarrity simply must be experienced first hand, but I will say that it is a trip, the guy playing Buddy did all of his own martial arts moves, all of it sans wires, The Red Elvises, a Russian group, did the soundtrack which has an awesome surfer rock fell to it, and watch for the gumball scene-- it's straight up gorgeous. This isn't horror, it's just weird. But it is some fucking AWESOME weird, and I personally want another taste.
I was walking to class today, listening to the lastest offering done up by the fine folks over at The Night Of the Living Podcast, a favorite listen of mine. They were discussing the Latin ghost story of La Llarona, a story that some theorize rise as a cautionary story to keep kids out of the river where they were likely to drown. According to the story a widow drowns her children, and then is later over come with grief over the evil she has committed. She now haunts the rivers, crying out for her lost children, "Mi ninos, mi ninos!", and if you hear her, she will drown you, take you away, etc. There are a lot of variations to this tale, but essentially she was a bogeyman, designed to keep kids safe through fear. One of the members of the show made a comment about how just saying "stay out of the damn river or you'll drown" is just as effective, and it made me realize that I am guilty of doing something similar.
I work currently in childcare; for what ever reasons I remember portions of my own childhood vividly, and the desire for magic was always a very strong need in me. I wanted to see unicorns, I pretended I was a faery. Or I was a witch, and in my version of events, Rapunzel wasn't going anywhere unless I let her. You get the picture. Some of my favorite memories are of my father telling me short, spooky things that I wanted badly to believe in. My favorite was when he told me that he had the headless Hessian's head, hidden, and that was why the headless horseman still rode. When I breathlessly asked to see it, he said he would show me on Halloween night, an event many months away still. I, of course, forgot in the excitement of Trick or Treating, and so it was a mystery that I delighted on dwelling on for several years. I never did remember to ask him to see it.
I want to give similar memories to my younger relations, and have told them some stories that I hope will weather well as they grow. We have a local play area here called The Children's Activity Museum. I'm sure you've been to similar places; a child sized kitchen area, little examples of physics in action such as a Bernelli blower, all of it hands on. The building our local CAM is contained in is cut weird; it's a large building, but the interior walls seem hastily thrown up, and if you peer through the cracks you can see dusty areas that are now essentially disused corridors between the interior wall and the actual wall. Because of this strange set up there are several doors are either always locked (like the emergency exits) or that have been disabled and are now permanently part of the wall. This fascinated all of my nieces and nephews, and so when they asked me if monsters lived back there, I said yes, of course. Not mean monsters or anything, just monsters that liked their privacy and didn't want to do a lot of entertaining. So we would peer through cracks in the walls and holes in the doors, hoping to see the elusive, private beast. They like to knock on the doors, and then run away. I don't have the heart to tell them that it's rude to ding dong ditch a monster, but I figure the monster knows they're little, and he's cool with it.
More in keeping with the La Llarona tale, I told my four year old nephew that there was a water monster living in one of the parks we frequent. This park in question has a creek that cuts through it. It's not deep, but water doesn't have to be to drown a person. The current is very swift as well and there is an easy access area that's been formed over several generations of kids wading there in the summer time. It's fun to wade there when it's hot, and I want the boys to be able to do that, but I want them to be safe, especially since when I have more than one of them with me, it feels a lot like I'm trying to herd cats; one takes off running in one direction, the other in the polar opposite that his brother picked. So to keep them out of the water without me, I told them that the Creature from the Black Lagoon lives under the concrete culvert the creek diverts into. It's easier for them to understand that a green scaly guy is going to carry you off if you get too close to him than it is to explain the concept of death to a small child. Being separated from Mommy and Daddy is a scarier concept, as well as being easier to grasp, than trying to explain what happens when you die.
We actually scared ourselves with this last Halloween. I was taking the brats Trick or Treating (and doing the same myself), and one of the more isolated streets we were walking down has a small irrigation canal next to it. We stopped where someone's driveway covered the ditch, and peered into the corrugated tunnel the water ran through. This ditch was sunk pretty deep, and the water plants hadn't gone dormant yet, so they were still very tall and dark. I was whispering to them to listen, planning to tickle them when they were looking most intent. Instead something splashed deep inside, and William hollered "MONSTER!" We all shrieked and ran off, laughing, a cave man, a tiny werewolf, and me, face painted into a Dia de Los Meurtos skull.
I hope they remember that fondly, as well as keeping them safe until they're big enough to handle the currents. I will.