Life Lesson: It’s Really Hard to Remember Certain Life Lessons

Life Lesson #417, #1,361, #4, 215, and #7,521: Do not watch scary movies right before bed.*

*Please add one “, you total idiot.” For each subsequent time this life lesson is learned.

In short, I am a total idiot.

When I was a child, I was scared of a ridiculous number of things. Spiders, every insect in the world (including lightening bugs, which is an unfortunate fear for a child living in New Jersey), every single Scary Stories book, Dr. Teeth from The Muppets…They all got under my skin**. This was a problematic condition for a girl who has an older brother and who lived in close proximity to four rowdy (and fun) male cousins.***

**In the context of my childhood nightmares, this is a completely literal statement.
***Who all were definitely not afraid of picking up spiders and using them as projectiles.

Don;t worry. I love Dr. Teeth's bohemian zen now that I am an adult

This is a really terrifying face when you are very small and afraid of being eaten.
Click for Source, which is a super amazing Muppet-focused blog.

I was, however, deeply in love with classic vampires**** and bats. Because, you know, those are healthy obsessions for a child of seven. By the time I was a teenager, I decided that since I clearly was not scared of SOME things that should be scary, I could obviously get over all my fears and be queen of the scary things.*****

****Real vampires never sparkle and totally intend to eat you, but not in a terrifying cannibal way. Cannibalism is a total deal breaker.
*****Why yes, I was goth as a teenager. How did you guess?

I decided I was tougher than tough, and impervious to traditionally scary things. I read horror novels by the bushel******. I daydreamed about how adorable I thought monsters were and how we would totally be friends in real life. I watched every Hellraiser, Alien movie, Friday the 13th, and Halloween movie I could get my hands on.

******Bushels clearly being the most standard unit of measurement for mass quantities of books.

Terrible, terrible survival instincts. GO ALIENS.

It occurs to me that the less coffee I’ve had before randomly drawing stick figures, the weirder my pigtails look.
Also, teenagers have terrible survival instincts.

And promptly relearned a lesson I had learned as a small child: Watching horror movies right before bed leads to horrifying night terrors.

But nevermind that, because suddenly it was time for college. And in college, watching scary movies late at night is a staple of alcohol-fueled idiocy and attempted dates.  Life lesson relearned. Twice.

And now we come to my mid-late 20s.****** Nestled in the soft bosom of adulthood, I am confident in the fact that there are no monsters under my bed. Nothing lives in my closet, waiting to jump out and eat me. There is no serial killer behind the door. My life is remarkably safe.

******Never to be confused with the ACTUAL late 20s, which is 29. Which I am not. Mid-late 20s is totally still young.

So, secure in this knowledge, I settled in to watch The Conjuring late at night, on a work night, by myself, with all the lights off.

I am not so good at great ideas.

Yeah. Nothing could go wrong watching this alone in the dark late at night.

And promptly spent the rest of the night wide awake, certain that invisible-demon-monster-witches had all died in my (built in 2008) apartment complex, and my cat was going to try to kill me if I fell asleep.*******

*******This has pretty much nothing to do with the plot, so don’t worry. No spoilers. You can still watch this alone and in the dark.

Life lesson relearned. Again and again and again.

In other news, this is a real place:

OMG GUYS

My life was incomplete before I knew there were whole rooms dedicated to trampolines.

So, there’s still hope and joy in the world.

I Am Not in Favor of Filled Sugar Products

When I was a child, Gushers were new. Or, at least they were a very big deal. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. These tiny hexagons of sugar were my first introduction to “sugar objects filled with goo juice,” and it was not a pleasant experience.

Ew ew ew ew

These are Gushers, if somehow you missed the mid-to-late 80s and all of the 90s.
Click for source!

Now, as a sugar-addicted child, one would assume that I would have jumped at the chance to eat anything filled with EXTRA sugar. And I did. After begging my parents profusely*, they humored my commercial-driven need to try these tasty treats.

*Marching behind them in the grocery store chanting “MomDadMomDadMomDad” at full volume. I’m a polite and effective beggar.

Only, they weren’t tasty. The filling was TOO sweet, and also oddly textured. The way it sort of squashed and then leaked fruit-ish flavor all over my mouth was disconcerting. It was a horrifying surprise, like going to hug your doctor and ending up getting a shot**.

On the other hand, I didn't get the measles.

IT’S A TRAP.

**THAT WAS A DIRTY TRICK, DOCTOR KNICKERBOCKER, you mothersneezin’ trickster.

I have hated all goo-filled candies ever since. Whether it’s sweet or sour, fruit flavored or chocolate, I am just not a fan. In fact, if Wilford Brimley REALLY wanted to stop me from getting diabetes***, he’d stop volleying for Liberty Medical to deliver drugs to my door, and just ban all candies that didn’t have some sort of gooshy filling.****

***Sorry. I mean Diabeetus.
****While I am medically aware that this is not how one gets diabetes, and that there are other types of diabetes that people are born with, this does not stop me from propagating the scientifically inaccurate belief that eating sugar directly results in diabetes. Because rumors are fun and never problematic.

But I have learned I am alone in this.

AHHHH

How did these ads not scar all of us for life? I really don’t want to turn into a raspberry. I saw Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory.
Click for source.

All my friends, and apparently the Internet, are nuts for sugar-with-more-sugar-inside. How do I know? Well, the Internet includes directions for this:

More Ew Ew Ew

Seriously. This is a thing someone made. And presumably ate.
Guys. This HAPPENED to someone.
Click for source and instructions. You’re welcome.

This left me speechless. Until my further Googling led me down the rabbit hole. The rabbit hole apparently leads to a place called “Fruitsnackia.” And it is disturbing.

I do this for a living

Because these days, we need to clarify to children that giving fruit snacks names and a homeland doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat them. It’s just advertising.
Click for source.

And IN Fruitsnackia lives Larry.

This has scarred me for LIFE.

Meet Larry. In the introduction animation, he taps his side and then drinks his own delicious gooey insides.
Click for source. I dare you.

I don’t even…I…he…but…that isn’t even ENGLISH. I’m not sure whether “gush” is a threat, a come-on, or a state of being. It’s pretty concerning though. And what’s more concerning is that people keep buying filled candies. No matter how gross or creepy they get, there are other candy makers out there waiting to add options to the market:

Ew Ew Ew Ew Ew

I stole this picture from my friend who enjoys these probably-poisonous snacks. I am sharing it with you out of concern.

This picture unsettles me for two reasons. One, we all know that the only real red licorice is a Red Vine, and two, Twizzlers is expanding the filled-candy market further. I am growing more alone in my stand against inner-candy-goo by the second.

But don’t worry. There’s still hope for future generations. Because the terrifying land of Fruitsnackia yells at your children***** to take a break and go outside and play.

*****And me.

Hurray for health!

I still don’t know what “gush” means in this context.

Because if you’re on a website that brings to mind a cannibalistic acid trip, chances are. you need a breather pretty frequently. Apparently.

It’s 2014 and I’m Already a Day Behind

But in my defense, everyone knows you’re not supposed to actually DO anything on New Year’s Day. You’re supposed to huddle on your couch in wide-eyed shock that yet another year has officially passed, and the horrifying realization that you rang it in by attempting to drink all the booze you could find.

So, basically what I’m saying is: I celebrated New Years in line with all those who came before me, carrying on traditions designed to destroy my liver.

He even has googley eyes.

This sums up both my expectations for the new year (More dinosaurs, shinier hats), and how amazing my Christmas was this year.
This was a present I received. It is a handcrafted dinosaur serving dish. Because my friends are AMAY-ZING.

And then I slept through a blogging day.*

*Yes, my mother IS proud of me. Why do you ask?

So I’m going to post twice today to make up for it. Tah-Dah. Post one.

We had the most amazing New Year's table. Don't even try to deny it.

We had the most amazing New Year’s table. Don’t even try to deny it.