They all float down here, Georgie.

I am currently on the first part of the second part of Stephen King's It. I am watching this film alone and in the dark.

I have a question for myself: Why the fuck would you do that?!

Firstly, I ask you to take a look at this:

Who wouldn't be scared of that?!

If you weren't, I implore you to take a look at this:

If that doesn't work, then maybe this will:

If that doesn't make you cringe in fear and repulsion, I suggest you seek help.

*Shudders*

I'm already shit scared of clowns, and I don't even know why I am, it's just one of those things like spiders, or shadows in the dark, it's just always freaked me out even though it's completely unprecedented, and now I'm sat in a dark room alone watching a fucking murderous zombiewerewolf clown with zaggedy tear-you-up-crunch-your-bones teeth.

Things about this film that make me not-so-scared:

1. The graphics are God-awful. Yes, sometimes the Mr Pennywise does look like a plastecine model formed by a near-sighted four-year-old with two fingers on each hand, but he still looks like a clown. And the only thing that freaks me out more than clowns is clown puppets (fuck you Speilberg, that one's Poltergeist's fault). Actually, that doesn't make me less scared, the terror is simply interrupted by intermittent bursts of nervous laughter.
2. I've already read the book. Already having read the book I know more or less what is coming. So when little Georgie's boat went down the drain I was already aware ole Pennywise was waiting down there with his floatly balloon. Unfortunately this didn't prepare my for the teeth. Unnaturally shaped teeth in a human (albeit heavily greasepainted) face really freak me out. See Sleepy Hollow. I just shuddered.
3. I'm blogging. Thankfully when anything shit-your-pants scary happens, I'm generally looking at the computer screen and concentrating on hitting the correct keys. Unfortunately as I was writing that sentence, I heard the tell-tale sounds of something creepy on the screen and looked up to see a mummy (note: dead things = also scary).
4. Seth Green. He plays a pre-pubescent ginger kid with glasses and a big mouth. This makes me laugh. It's like when your best friend that you met at college shows you a picture from their days as a year seven student and they're all fat and have a terrible haircut and weirdly round eyes, you can't help but go "HAA!" (this is the reaction my friends give when they see my year seven photo).
5. I'm too busy shitting it over my exam results tomorrow. 'Nuff said.

For future reference, I'm totally going to buy the rights to It and remake it so that people who aren't willing to overlook the shite graphics in order to be terrified can be terrified, because CLOWNS ARE FUCKING TERRIFYING. You heard it here first (the remake thing, not the clown thing. You should already know the clown thing. What's right about a grown man wearing full on makeup and baggy trousers for the entertainment of children?)

30 Minutes later..

OMFG IT TURNED INTO A GIANT SPIDER AND I FEEL LIKE IT'S ON ME.

Hope.

Dear Gail from Coronation Street,


I was just writing to ask if you were aware that you looked like one of these:

Without one of these:

It would give me great peace of mind to know for certain whether you are in fact not 100% human, as I'd be devestated if my neck too looked like that at the age of 80.


Yours hopefully,


A concerned viewer.

Tangent.

You know when you wake up from a dream wondering how the hell your mind could be as warped as to have those thoughts going through your head, and then you forget all about it, but then something reminds you of it and you get all concerned about your mental stability again?


I dreamt about cacti last night.


It was my cousin's birthday and she wanted nothing but cacti, which she carried around on a red plastic dinner tray then arranged tastefully around the house. I also remember there being a yellow tent, and myself falling asleep on a nine-year-old's lap.


I've always had weird dreams. One of these messed up dreams that I can remember from an early age was me being in my great Gran's back garden, and two men approached me trying to sell my a ray gun. I refused, so they turned the ray gun on my Daddy, but instead of him flashing a bright blue colour and falling to the floor like an old Shatner era Star Trek episode, he turned into a giant and tried to step on me. I hid behind the gate to my Gran's back garden, found a mug, found a coin within the mug, and flipped the coin in the mug. The money started multiplying and soon I had enough cash to pay back the men who zapped my Daddy in the first place, who immediately turned him back and went on their evil bastard conman ways. I woke up crying.


Woah, tangent.


I think I just swallowed a hair. In fact I'm almost 100% certain, and now I'm worried it's going to wrap itself around my intestines and choke me to death form the inside or cause internal bleeding. The worst thing was it was one of my sister's hair and she could have anything. It was wrapped up in a ball of spaghetti and I only felt it slipping through my lips as the spaghetti ball was being swallowed and pulling down the hair with it like someone who pissed off the mafia with a block of cement around his feet sinkng to the bottom of a lake never to be seen again. Except it won't be gone for ever, it will come back to haunt me when I start coughing up blood or complaining of stomach pains. Why can the mafia get away with it but not me?


The offending spaghetti plate (I didn't finish the spaghetti, it got binned):

Other things I've been convinced will kill me:


Lung cancer,
Old milk,
Swine flu,
Plane crash,
A twisted ankle,
Salmonella,
Meningitis,
Refrozen burgers,
My hairstraighteners,
The mole on my leg,
Alcohol poisoning,
Ghosts,
My cat,
Whatever that noise was outside my window the other night.

Ooh, the first blog.

I've never done this before, which I'm pretty sure is the starting point for most first-time bloggers as creatively stunted as I am. Basically, I wanted to do this because I have a feck-load of thoughts going around in my head that if I expressed them out-loud to any of my immediate family or friends they might want to consider not spending so much time around me.

 

I don't doubt for a minute that no-one besides myself will venture to read what most likely  promises to be three days of pretentious drivelling bollocks before I get bored or find a new fad, but I'm going to attempt this anyway. The longest I ever kept a diary was for a couple of months, in which I wrote about a couple of dreams I had, nerves about my upcoming examinations and sellotaped a picture of a yawning baby hedgehog. The book I bought in a state of vile optimism was a lot thicker than I ever could have hoped to fill, and now lies pointlessly empty amongst a pile of discarded Stephanie Meyer books on the floor next to my wardrobe as I couldn't bring myself to keep them with what could actually be described as literature.

 

Last night, I decided to try and turn myself into an owl. And by this I mean nocturnal, but the owl is my favourite of all the nocturnal creatures. I stayed up until about 6am before heading up to bed to watch Shrek. In this time, I found that being left alone with my mind was rather disturbing and decided to vent my thoughts onto facebook, resulting in this:

Deanne Cougar Evans Four channels are currently screening Big Brother live, and I'm still awake. Just hit me.

15 hours ago · Comment ·Like

 

Deanne Cougar Evans Only 2 friends are online. I almost feel as though I have beaten facebook, and indeed, the Internet itself.

14 hours ago · Comment ·Like

Deanne Cougar Evans Things I think about at five in the morning:

Wow, no one's online.

How come England only gets tornadoes in Birmingham?

Confessions of a Shopaholic is a background movie and nothing else.

How to really freak out the Archbishop of Canterbury.

If I make toast will the sound of the toaster wake my parents?

Also, how many family members could I call to say "I love you" if my plane were to crash, taking into account the time my phone takes to turn on, and what order would I do it in, then upon impact in the Pacific ocean, would the plane sink, could I stay afloat on a detached wing if there wasn't any room on an inflatable raft, if I was merely floating in the ocean in an inflatable vest how likely would it be that I get eaten by a shark.

14 hours ago · Comment ·Like

This led me to thinking that rather than having all of my retarded whims and fancies boradcasted where people I know will see, I will stick them on here for... lets face it, the rest of this week, probably.

You would not believe the levels of overdrive my mind reaches when I have nothing else to do. I'd try writing a screenplay to fulfil my hopeful career in film making, but that requires writing in a structure which I quickly tire of.

Bloody hell, my phone just went off and scared the shit out of me.

I'm home alone tonight so I'll probably do another one of these things later. Trust me, it will be rife with topical humour and whimsical thought bubbles.

Ending this type of thing is always difficult. I feel like I should come up with some form of signature.

 

P.s. They just tried to tell me broadcasted isn't a word. So I'm making it one. Also, blogger is a word, but bloggers isn't? The Internet is stupid.

Pizza musings.

I'm pretty sure the pizza man just heard my evil laugh of delicious-food-excitement through the door. Maybe he'll think I was laughing to someone else though rather than being alone? Hopefully.


They should give out at least three Garlic and Herb dips with a Dominoes pizza. Two for the main meal and one for the leftovers. Who can't agree with this?

Angry.

The formatting on that first post fucked up, and now I'm angry. I didn't want to come off as a computer illiterate pond-monkey first time round, but hey-ho.


I'm also a little concerned that the dates on some of my posts have changed so my first post ins't my first post anymore.

1 Day Later: Yay! Fixed the formatting! But the dates are still wrong, and my face is still like this: