Scardy Cat

I've been known to be a little jumpy. One example that comes to mind is when my brother-in-law, Bryan, came over one day to our apartment. He knocked. I opened the door. Upon opening the door, Bryan swings his arms toward me with a gallon of Creamery chocolate milk. I definitely jumped, may have even screamed. Marcus regularly makes me jump without having to try too hard. In fact, sometimes now he'll warn me before entering the room. "Jenny, I'm coming in the room. Don't be alarmed." It's just kind of freaky when you are facing another direction and then, boom, someone is there when you turn around. Perhaps I saw too many Saturday afternoon thrillers on channel 20 when I was specifically told not to watch, but I'm just a jumpy girl.

I just saw a commercial for the new thriller Drag Me to Hell -- what a title. But I don't even the like the commercial. It scares me. blaaghagg It sends shivers down my spine right now thinking about it. (Wish Marcus were home just about now...and as I type this, I'm sure he'll walk in and I'll jump, maybe scream. Then he'll jump. And he'll say "Gees...Jenny, you have to stop doing that.") So, here's the thing with scary movies. When I was little, hated them. When I was older -- high school through college years -- I loved them. I loved the adrenaline rush that I got. I loved the thrill. Not anymore though. The horrible images of disfigured faces and the sounds of screams just don't do it for me...they get stuck in my mind and it makes me scared. So, there you have it. I'm a big fat scardy cat, and that's ok with me.