midnight toilet

Goddamn it if The Grudge 2 didn't get to me. It was such a shitty film, especially the eye candy school girls who must have been given direction like "act really shit so that when you die, the audience will actually cheer". On second thoughts, everybody must have been given the 'act really shit' direction, because I couldn't actually tell if Amber Tamblyn had acting ability, or whether she just looked really good next to everybody she was working with (save Sarah Michelle Gellar of course. That lady can do no wrong!).

Anyway, home I went, scoffing all the way, had dinner, watched TV, what have you. The moment I got into bed and turned out the lights, the spectre of wide-eyed, open mouthed blue lady kept flashing on the inside of my eyelids. Stupid B-grade damn j-horror crap!

The first few nights after seeing the film when I woke up needing to pee, somehow I forced myself back to sleep. Finally, one night when I couldn't stand the pressure (damn soup!), I got up, turned on every light, shut the door, and did my thing with my eyes closed.

That's one thing I'm going to think about next time I choose a house - the aspect of the toilet. Our toilet is such that when you're sitting and the door is open, you're looking straight out into a corridor. When you're half asleep and it's the middle of the night, usually you just pee in the dark with the door open (don't act like you don't know what I mean)! I swear my dream-laced mind takes advantage of my short-sightedness and imagines all sorts of horrible apparitions peeking around the side of the door frame and grinning at me. It doesn't help that Abe the cat sometimes ninjas his way into the toilet and sits there purring at me. I swear one time I just blinked and he appeared there. I almost screamed. I suppose I should be sort of grateful that The Grudge 2 has replaced the usual clowns with the blue lady.

Two things come to mind when I think about the TV series of It (well, apart from being the site of my screaming clown phobia) - the first is sadness about Jonathan Brandis, and how he ended up, and the second is the irrational thought that if I carry my asthma inhaler everywhere with me, then I can vanquish clowns at all times. On second thoughts, no. I want the clowns back. Because what the fuck do I do with the grudge lady? Out stare her? Paint myself blue and put my face millimetres from hers? Hmm. Need to think about this one.

Breakfast:
1 Milo a la Roseanne (ie. very sweet)
half a home grown cherimoya (it was chilled and delicious)
2 meal mates (poppy and sesame seed crackers)
Verdict: not sure about the nutritional value, but I'm continuing digging poppy seeds. And fruit, always fruit.