Last night, Carrie and Logan returned from their hike all a-glow. Logan in-particular seemed moved by the adventure. A woman of few words, the gleam of her face and twinkling blue eyes told a story her voice did not.
I presented my friends with the meal I had prepared only to learn that both women hate bell peppers. Hate bell peppers? But they’re so… innocuous! That’s like hating celery or Saltine crackers or Jane Pauley. I mean, I can understand not loving them, but they’re not dramatic enough to warrant hate!
"I just wanna be loved!"
After some bell-pepper picking and grumbling, dinner was served. The ladies had stopped on the way home and bought Slurpees to mix with the fancy rum that Corey had bequeathed. Between the two ingredients, I concocted an elixir that made you tipsy just by smelling it. Carrie and I fought over who would get the cherry-flavored, and as usual, she won.
We re-arranged the furniture in the living room and created an impromptu theatre, then popped in a DVD of Wes Craven’s “The Hills Have Eyes,” which had been recommended to me by Kirk, one of the VIP’s of the Amoeba Music DVD depot. I asked for a desert themed horror film and, like a computer, out came his suggestion.
Just one of many heart-warming moments from "The Hills Have Eyes"
I’m not a fan of horror films, per se, though I’m not opposed to them. I just never find them scary. Like, ever. My idea of a horror film is “Bowling for Columbine” or “An Inconvenient Truth”. Or, if you really want to see me sweat, tie me down and force me to watch “Dumbo”. I will pee.
[insert sound of Job screaming here]
What I am a fan of is seeing horror films with sexy chicks who shriek, hide their eyes, and clutch my arm; Corey, Carrie and Logan all fit this description.