In addition to the required elements of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium, I'm utterly convinced that my family tree was also fertilized with a generous scoop of utter f--king insanity.
Swinging from the branches with dead-eyed smiles on their faces, there are a host of unstable folks littered throughout my esteemed lineage. Fine, they're not total f--king psychopaths or anything, but we've definitely got some real...weirdos.
And while that should be rather unnerving,
the older I get, the more I realize that just about everybody is going to end up crazy in some way. And since I'm a guy, mine is likely going to be some silently inward thing that is generally acceptable, or at the very least, tolerable.
But the ladies? My goodness. Their crazy is often this all-consuming force that drives the regulars to the brink of madness. Yes, bad things have happened many years ago
, but do we have to dwell on them all of the current days?
I mean, we're all haunted by demons from our past, sure, but at some point, you've got to move on and let them go.
Especially the literal ones.
With my last (summer) Bargain Tuesday
staring me in the junk, the only movie I was able to finagle my way into (and still manage an on-time pick up of Matty) was director David F. Sandberg's horror flick, Lights Out.
I'd like to say that nothing can be too terrifying on a weekday morning, but that was before I overheard that the next screening of Nine Lives
was totally sold out. *shudder*
Apparently, where I live, people love cheap pussy.
opens exactly where you'd expect it to, a poorly-lit, mostly-deserted, textiles factory.
Yep, that old place. And as yet another day of making...uh, textiles, ends, it's clear that shit ain't right. At all. Lurking in the shadows is some evil demon-thing, apparently pissed as a motherf--ker. Maybe her scarf came in like, regular black, not Satan's Heart.
Whatever the case is, this lady, made entirely of the absence of light
totally kills some f--king dude with her shadow hands...and we're off. Sort of.
Turns out this demon chick, (the extra dirty) Diana, is the best friend of definitely single/definitely
crazy mom, Sophie (the always reliable Maria Bello). Sophie might have an old cheerleader uniform in the attic that she'll put on and show you her bushy old pom-pom, but as the mother of young kid named Martin, she ain't exactly getting it done. Unless, of course, when Diana isn't terrorizing the f--k out of ol' Marty, she's heating up Bagel Bites and checking his math homework. If only there was another, (possibly sexy) family member that he could
also be haunted with
go stay with. If only.