Okay, so I just saw that movie, 28 Days Later�, on Saturday night, and I am officially scarred for life. For life, people! I mean, damn. Like, it really takes a lot for a movie to freak me out anymore, in this age of Friday the 13th Part MCMXXLV: Jason Takes Alpha Centauri and Don�t Think I�ve Forgotten What You Did Last Summer, Because I Wrote It All Down, and Your Ass Is Mine! -- in fact, including this film, I can think of only two in the last year that have actually caused the old adrenal glands to peel themselves away from their stories long enough to give a shit (the other being The Ring [eek!]) -- but this movie scared the living crap out of me!
I mean, it�s not like I was cowering in my seat and peeking at the screen through my fingers, like at Glitter, but it definitely got my heart rate going. It spoils nothing to tell you that it�s basically about this virus that turns people into these mindless, slobbering, crazed, living �zombies� who want to sink their pointy teeth into your still-beating heart (so it�s basically like shopping at a retail store in the mall), and the handful of normal people who are still alive. It wasn�t scary in that it was totally realistic, but they did such a good job of setting up the atmosphere and tension that you couldn�t help but eventually be pulled into its fucked-up universe. I�m serious! Afterward, I had to go to the grocery store and this old woman next to me started coughing. I ran screaming from the bread aisle like a little girl.
But I love movies that do that to you! You know, the ones that make you want to throw down in Frozen Foods, or kick people in the face at Abercrombie (well, I guess it doesn�t really take a movie to make you kick people in the face at Abercrombie -- have you seen what they want to charge you for a fricking T-shirt?). Of course, I was less enthused when it came time for me to go for my run that night. You should have seen me busting through my neighborhood at about 400,000 miles an hour, climbing up the sides of houses like Spider-Man every time I heard a funny noise.
Today brought its own special brand of horror. Sophie was out of the office for the second half of last week, and today she was trying to catch up, which was a little scary for me.
Sophie: Hmm�well, I guess I should know what went down at the meeting on Wednesday. Can I see your notes?Me: Um�no?
But really, it all kind of went okay. The other thing I did was kind of humiliate myself in front of Jetson, the cute receptionist.See, here�s what happened: I decided that a nice, flirty thing to do would be to show him how to give a decent hand massage! You know, it�s kind of sexy, because the hand is an erogenous zone, but really, it�s just a freaking massage, you know? So I showed him. But I did it real quick-like, because I didn�t want to get busted giving the receptionist a hand-job! Er�I mean hand �massage�. Anyway, he�s all, �Thank you,� to which I�m like, �Well, I have to let him know that I would�ve given him a longer one if I wasn�t afraid of getting busted,� and I meant to say something along those lines (�Well, they�re better when your masseur isn�t running late for a phone conference!�) but it came out thusly: �I give better ones when I�m not at work!� Like, fucking great. Captain Obvious strikes again! Why didn�t I just say, �Hey! Hey, ask me out! You should ask me out on a date, now! Did you catch the hint? Great Scott, did you catch the hint??? I said, �I can give better ones when I�m not at work�, which means that if you ask me out, like on a date, I can give you a more involved massage, because I�m the fucking Whore of Babylon, and why don�t you just take me out back and fuck me???�
And okay, so it�s not quite as bad as it feels to me, but honestly. I know it really came across as me pathetically trolling for a date invite, which really wasn�t my intention at all, and now I feel like a dumbass.
So, some things never change.
Looking at that fills my heart with resplendent joy. Ahhh, Cherry Coke -- my one true love.
