Reasons Horror Movies Don’t Work On Me




Step it up, horror movies.



A scary guy chasing me? The constant threat of attack/murder? Welcome to Thursday. As women, we’ve been raised to be unceasingly aware of every angle of our surroundings, every inch of our appearance, and our public performance art of no eye contact with any male human (lest we give him the obvious impression with our sultry glances that we desperately desire to rip his clothes off right there on the E train,) all to keep ourselves out of physical danger every single day. Cause it’s, ya know, our responsibility. There are gadgets we can buy to keep ourselves safe, too, like mace hiding in a bottle that looks like something else, sharp things that look like kitten ears to attach to our key chains, and even trendy nail polish that changes color if we dip our fingers into a drink that’s been roofied! We’ve got a veritable tool belt of anti-murder shit that we strap on every morning. So yeah…bring it on, Cenobites. You’re no scarier than my old landlord who chased me and grabbed me that one time.



Death is on my mind constantly, as it is with most 20-somethings with a psychiatrist and a bucket of the hottest new SSRI prescriptions.

Wouldn’t this all be so much easier if I were gone? 

I’d literally rather die than move from my bed and put on clothes.

If I have to make small talk with a stranger tonight I will walk into the East River. 

An alien lands on Earth and chases and eats me? Okay. Cool. Sounds like it’d be a huge load off, actually.


Student Loans

I’m in a lot of student debt. Like, “I have more to pay off in student loans than most people have on their mini-mansion mortgage” a lot.

If us all turning into rotting zombie corpses due to an apocalyptic virus means that I’ll stop getting calls from Discover when I’m late on a payment, I’m all for it.


Vampires Are Sexy

I’ll be bitten and forever transformed into a vicious nocturnal blood hunter by punk-grunge Bill Paxton any night. And then the next night. And the next.







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