scary movie & boobs

So we helped out a mate who had an overstocked bar. We weren’t going to let much go to waste. Not on our clocks. Even managed to find some Brazilian Cachaca, the stuff that makes you want to wear a thong and samba at the same time.

However, small fry. On Saturday I settled in to watch a scary movie. I’m more of a comedy girl myself, but every now and then you want to push your own envelope and settle in for something that’s purposefully going to freak you the fuck out.

[Skydiving not an option.]

I watched one of the freakiest thriller movies ever – on good old MM2, something about twins and stigmata.

You know how it is: you sit there, eneveloped in a blanket, properly kakking myself. At first it's ok, then you look through your glass balcony doors, and the reflections are moving, and a shadow dots past the kitchen window.

You sit deeper into the couch, and start idly paging through the dish magazine to distract yourself from the scary shit on the tube.
The piano music starts, and you get up to make yourself a big cup of ‘pull your shit together, it’s just a movie.’

But then in the back of your head, you recall that it is always the obnoxious teenager in the movie who says to a mate, ‘It’s just a movie’, and a scythe comes plummeting down on his head from behind.

Eventually I could not stand the tension any longer. I was teetering on the edge of the couch, gripped with fear. Texted a mate: “Hey. Watching the scariest movie on the planet. Please just say something.”
My mate was eating dinner with a ‘table full of fossils,’ and while I read it, the one twin’s leg came off.

Properly shitting now, I put the washing machine on. Can’t look at the TV; can’t look away from the TV. Perhaps some domestic cleaning will dull my overactive imagination. By now I’m certain a ghost is watching me [in underwear and a t-shirt], through the glass of my balcony and is going to possess me or fly in through the window and knock shit off the coffee table.

Turn to the Wallpaper Guide To Prague – (fyi: it’s the sjoosjest guidebook out there, and I have a LOT of guidebooks. It only covers city-to-city, but it really appeals to the design element locked away in your very core, even if the only shapes you get excited are those in a geometry paper. It’s a great little guy)

But even Prague’s impressive architecture looked scary. You keep watching the clock to see how long the torture will go on for. But yet, you just cannot switch off and not know what happens in the end.

So. Am just saying, watching a scary movie alone on a dark night is scary, even though I’m 28 and not 7.

We had our first bridesmaids meeting for E’s wedding on Saturday, and went shopping for her hen’s party. I’d tell you the cool and kinky things I bought – what a gas - but then E might be reading (Hello darling), and that would just ruin the surprise, innit.

My boobs hurt.

Been like this a few days now, they ache and are super-sensitive to touch. Unless by immaculate conception, I assure you I'm not pregnant. Nor is Aunt Flo visiting/about to visit. It's different sensitive. And they've grown. Trust me, I've noticed - they fill more than a hand now.

Am I dying?