I used to have a rule: no serious horror movies. Scary stuff would bubble away in the back of my head until it erupted – usually somewhere around 2 a.m. – and a mostly sleepless night would ensue while evil things scuttled around the corners of my brain.
Because the effects of horror movies were so bad, this has been my rule for years. Having married The Guy Who Watches Made for Scifi Movies, I have since found out that cheesy, campy, or just plain bad horror doesn’t bother me any. Which led me to a very bad mistake last night. John watched "The Grudge " and I watched it with him, thinking that the bad juju from horror was something I had outgrown.
Um. Right. Tell that to the insectoid Japanese female with the staring eyes and the death-rattle who stalked me hourly from 2 to about 5 this morning. Gah.