To put it simple: I just don’t like scary movies anymore. I used to be a HUGE horror fan. Bring on the blood, guts, and gore! None of that hokey ass campy nonsense- I want REAL suspense, REAL scares. The only thing I refused to watch was anything even remotely similar to Human Centipede- because poop in mouth, no matter the frightening premise (as if it’s not frightening enough on its own??)- is not something I’m interested in trying to bleach from my brain.
Like life usually does- that changed once I found myself incubating a miniature human, and it wasn’t just because they turned me into a sappy puddle of maternal goo and I can hardly even watch commercials without either crying or becoming absolutely paranoid about my poor little babies.
Okay… that’s pretty much exactly why.
I don’t know if parenthood flips some kind of switch in the female chemistry for some of us where we go from bad-ass bitches to sentimental saps, but in order to be able to sleep I had to give up on my horror fanaticism. That shit gets into my head way too easily now. Sorry Dick Wolf, that means Law & Order SVU is totally off limits as well.
The last few scary movies I saw were totally by accident and had me racing up the stairs after flicking off the lights before bed in fear of monsters, demons, aliens, and ghosts yanking me down to a basement I don’t even have because I live below sea level. I had to stop purposely torturing myself like that!
Although I may have given up on the Saw franchise only two movies after Cary “Men in tight TIGHT tights” Elwes hacked his own leg off in the first one- but Jigsaw was not done playing games with me. That crazy smart evil man, always thinking ahead.
I currently feel like I LIVE with Jigsaw- and the asshole just won’t let me live in peace.
I want to play a game
NO! I never agreed to that shit!
Every day I find myself in precarious situations where I must make a decision that comes with a consequence- much like the Saw movies, only nobody gets their head exploded or limbs sawed off or dumped into a bin of hypodermic needles.
Parenting is scary, but not quite to that level.
That freaky little doll lives in my walls and wheels its ass out at the most inopportune times. I swear it’s true!
Hello, Jenny- in that familiar deep scratchy voice.
For the past 6 years, you have complained about not being able to get a full night of sleep, which has only grown worse since the beginning of summer vacation this year. I want to teach you a lesson. You should be more grateful that you have a family to spend time with, even if it’s at the asscrack of dawn, so you have a choice. You can sleep in, but for every minute you are asleep after your children have woken up, a new item will be spread all over the floor, or the table, or yanked off of a shelf, or colored on the dog, or spilled out of the fridge.
No, I don’t care if the kids don’t try to wake you up first. I control you, not them. Shouldn’t you have some kind of instinct that tells you when they are awake? That’s your problem, not mine. So seriously, get out of bed or they’ll tear your house, beam by beam.
Wake or destroyed house, the choice is yours.
That Jigsaw is a real judgmental asshole who clearly does not understand that the better rested, the better mood and the more patient parent it makes.
That rat bastard pops out of the wall any time I try to go to the bathroom by myself, cook, clean while the kids are awake-
I want to play a game
Get the fuck back in your hole, Jigsaw! I just want to empty my bowels and clean the floor without all of the hurdles and obstacles! Pick up the toys without them being dumped back out or having my poor arch attacked. Crap without fingers under the door or the legos getting tossed across the living room like an old bucket of mop water.
I think all of us parents live with little Jigsaws. My best guess is that he will move out when they do, and no sooner Just poof- magically disappear and I will suddenly be able to do all of these things so easily. Can YOU imagine a poop not cut short by the sound of crashing or screeching? It sounds like a tropical vacation to me.
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.