Sorry, but I seriously hate any Friday the 13th, mostly 'cuz my parents used to watch it when I was oh so impressionably young and unable to actually watch, but more than able to hear the freaky frightening of it all. Add to that the fact that we used to stay in a crappy family cabin that was in a remote area of woods that was as scary as the Friday the 13th Camp Cut Off Your Head. I already had insomnia, but while camping I had insomnia AND the pee your own pants certainty that Jason WAS out there and WAS going to kill us all. I didn't know you had to be a teenager, having sex, and/or being drunk or high at the time, but by the time I actually SAW the whole movie, I was already convinced he was willing to make an exception for me. So Trisha most definitely dislikes Friday the 13th, not in a superstitious way, but in a flashback to something ridiculous from your childhood that should be embarrassing to still be afraid of, but it was your childhood so you didn't know any better and those memories just never, ever, ever leave you no matter how old, wise, mature, intelligent, or therapeutically corrected you become. This also applies to bees and why I won't swim in the ocean (or any body of water that I can't see the bottom of, and yes that includes the deep end of a swimming pool. You. Just. Never. Know.).
I'll return tomorrow, provided I'm not somehow stuck in the woods tonight and murdered (with Jay, of course, because I'll demand to be murdered for the "having sex in the woods" category since drinking and smoking aren't happening).
Queen of my own Magic Kingdom, full of all the irreverent, obnoxious, and sometimes offensive sarcasm you know and love. I don't care what people think of me, but I do care if you like my blog. Read, forward, repeat.
