So for my Memorial Day I thought I'd blow through a couple Netfux. Finished off The Rapture which I got off someone's list of good 90s horror flicks, as I was looking for such. Not suspense/thriller but legit horror. Well I think someone was having their little joke. Not that it wasn't scary, but more in a Jesus Camp vein than anything else. And I'm really not sure how to take the last fifteen minutes. But nothing like a fully mulleted David Duchovny! Otherwise it was very late-night USA.
Anyhoo, then I popped in Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. (Which is from 1986, yes, I know). Don't know how I wasn't familiar with this rather incredibly infamous NC-17 horror flick. Holy shit. So there I am already watching this most gruesome of films on what for many is probably a fairly somber day, but then I see the cat sneak off behind the TV where the power strip is. Just as he steps on the switch, shutting off all the power, I sit up and yell something along the lines of, you know, "OY! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!" while clapping my hands at him.
And it's very quiet now. And I while I'm quite clear on the fact that the door to the sunroom and all the windows in the sunroom are wide open, I'm apparently unaware that the neighbors behind and catty corner to us seem to be having oh, some sort of barbeque shindig.
There is really just no way they didn't hear that. At least it didn't sound like I was screaming at my child. Although let's hope this class shows itself in any future parenting as well.
Not really deterred, I brazenly polished off the last five minutes of my serial killer movie. I'm sure they were wanting to know how it ended, too.
8 comments:
As long as the neighbours didn't see the pair of you whacking off to Henry's work, you'll be fine ...
I've had to put up with next doors *entire* family on an extended visit all weekend.
There are about 6 kids (3 of them ginger which is never good), at least 7 adults and more running and yelping than either me or the cats can take much more of.
So, this morning at shit o'clock I made sure they'd get to hear Nine Inch Nails at full pelt with love from me.
Not a whole lot to see through a wood fence, though I was home alone which is nearly worse.
What's wrong with the gingers??
I applaud the NIN morning; I always think of that Life/Work/Love Is Hell comic where Bongo puts his speakers face-down and pumps the bass until his downstairs neighbor's chandelier falls and shatters. Always makes me laugh.
Ah, good old Henry. I saw that film on a double bill with A Clockwork Orange on the campus of North Carolina State University about fifteen years ago. Yep, it pretty much ruined me.
In our apartment complex, any of our neighbors will hear if we talk in anything much above a whisper. This means I now discipline my children by frantic hand-waving and silently threatening to throw things at them. The last thing I need is Social Services showing up on my doorstep.
-CSJ
I know the feeling, sort of. At least you were screaming at your own pet O_O.
CSJ: lol at your discipline That reminds me of the crazy woman who used to call my cell phone at 4am and tell me she knew I was beating my children.
No, you're not crazy, I don't have children. I think she had the wrong number.
Vel: Haha!! I totally thought about this but didn't want to mention it for fear of you going, "Yes, ok! I won't yell at other people's small dogs anymore, ok??" You have no idea how often I almost do the exact same thing to our other backyard neighbors (not the ones who probably heard me yell...) Small yappy POS lives there.
Oh, they weren't small. OMG I hated those fucking dogs.
Doug will never let me forget it, hee hee hee (I don't really blame him, I have to say).
Dogs barking all night long is just so not cool.
Definitely a legend!
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