Censorship (or lack thereof)

As a child, my parents never really censored the things I watched or read. It wasn't an unlikely occurrence for me to beg to watch a scary movie like The Exorcist, only to end up crying and asking why they made me watch that. We all loved horror films growing up in my house. Unfortunately, I have an excellent imagination. Add that to my love of reading Stephen King (starting in third grade) and you get one screwed up adult who can be seen running through the house in the middle of the night if I have to pee.


Take the movie Poltergeist, for example. I'm fairly certain I saw that at the ripe old age of five. Thanks to that, the clown scene is forever etched in my memory. My family thinks it's hysterical that I am scarred for life. 

This is the magnet I found on my fridge when I got home from work. Thanks, big sister!

You will surely never find any clown dolls in my house. I'm not even too keen on the American Girl Dolls (thanks for taking me to see Child's Play, Dad).

Seriously. Who would buy this for a child and not think it would try to kill them?

You had to know this was going to happen!

The Stephen King habit hasn't helped, either. My dad has always been a huge King fan. I'm sure I was trying to impress him or emulate him when I picked up 'Salem's Lot in third grade. I even brought it to school as my personal reading book. Now, being a teacher, I can see why Mrs. McLaughlin sent me to other teachers' rooms to show them what I was reading that day. Like I said before, I have a great imagination and Stephen King certainly knows how to write a compelling horror story. In 'Salem's Lot, the vampires will come scratching at your window in the middle of the night. These aren't sparkly, handsome Twilight vampires. They're undead bloodsuckers waiting to kill you. So, when I'm in my kitchen at three in the morning getting a drink, I am surely not letting the cat in as he scratch, scratch, scraaaaatches at the sliding glass door. I can't even open the shade even though I know it's hopefully him. Sorry, Frank the Cat. You're out for the night.

It might be the cat, then again, it might be this creepy kid.

If you enjoy the idea of me running through the house in terror, why not become a follower? Just don't buy me a clown. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and Twitter. Like the page and follow me!

P.S. I have completely neglected my Top Mommy Blogs account. Click that cute little brown button on my sidebar to vote for me...

And don't forget to visit my Zazzle store. You know you want some!