Diary of a wimpy adult

You people have fun at your haunted house. I’ll be on my couch watching The Office with all the lights on.

I hate, hate, hate being scared. I don’t find it exhilarating; I find it crippling. And I see no reason why anyone would pay money to be terrified.

The WORST of the worst are haunted houses, especially the ones with the chainsaw guys.
There are few things in life I fear more than the chainsaw guys.

And, they know it.

I try to act cool and calm when I pass them, but since I have a terrible time NOT showing emotions on my face, they spot me like a shark spots a baby seal.

Perhaps my obvious speed walking past them doesn’t help, or my fake “PSSSHHH chainsaws? No biggie” attitude. Because once they see the whites of my eyes, they know.

And they run right over to me --even if I’m hiding behind a person bigger than me-- and WHIR MY BACK so I can feel the wind in my hair and I scream, hunched over in the fetal position.

...While peeing myself.

I try not to be scared, but it’s hard when the possibility exists that THAT particular chainsaw WHIRRING ON MY BACK is the one that didn’t get its blade removed.

Because what if, for example, someone escaped the mental hospital and purchased their own chainsaw from Lowe’s and showed up in costume??
What about an estranged ex-boyfriend???

No one would know the difference!!! People I would be sliced in half!

I mean...it's a possibility.

I’d like to say that I haven’t always been this wimpy, but that's a lie.

I remember as a child walking through a haunted house in New Orleans put on by the sheriff, where all the people scaring you are POLICE OFFICERS, yet I still cried so hard and so loud that a man actually took his mask off and bent down to show me he wasn’t really a “bad guy.”

I’ve been in a number of haunted house “chicken coops” – a caged elevator where us wimps elect to leave the house early through the emergency exit because we can no longer stand our fears.

And then we all sit like dorks waiting on a bench at the exit for all our friends, tears in our eyes.

And don’t get me started on scary movies.

My first ever nightmare as a child came from a scary movie: My Little Pony. Hahaha – no...wait, I’m serious.

I have a distinct memory of being so terrified of the witch in the movie that I slept in my parents’ bed that night, even though I was 3 years old and had my own bed.

My mom remembers that, too, and brings it up when the topic of scary movies comes up.

“I was like, ‘My Little Pony?’” Really??” she tells people as I slink out of the room.

So right. Scary stuff? Not into it.

Action/thriller movies even scare me. After I saw the movie Collateral, I was actually scared of the bad guy...who was played by TOM CRUISE. (What! He was very convincing.) I seriously slept with all the lights on that night.

I fell for all of the common fears children have.

I would never even think of sleeping with one arm hanging off the bed, because a monster would definitely have snatched me. The kind of monster with fur all over its body.
Who lived under my bed.

When I was 12, the house next to my parents’ in New Orleans was used to film a movie – “Candyman II Farewell to the Flesh” – and I distinctly remember a character whose body turns into NOTHING BUT BEES and yes, I know it was a movie, but I used to envision bee-man knocking on our door.

(It didn’t help that there were very real Halloween fears in our neighborhood, like the voodoo house/compound in the next block and we could never let our black cat, Elizabeth, out for the week leading up to Halloween for fear she’d be skinned.)

THE HORROR!!!

Anyway...so this is my Halloween each year: PG things like pumpkin carving, wearing inappropriate and/or funny costumes and drinking rum cider.

And covering my eyes when previews for scary movies come on.

And avoiding bees...

-Jenny