What am I, some kind of masochist? Jason and I have a long tradition of seeing horror movies together. In the last month or 2, we have seen at least 3: at my house, at his house, at the theatre.

I sit there, shifting from one butt-cheek to the other in my seat, gripping at my coat, the seat cushion, Jason's arm, anything to somehow diffuse the sheer terror and revulsion I experience during the viewing of these movies. My breath is held for minutes at a time. I leave the theatre feeling slightly nauseated.

Yet, every time he asks me to see another of these films o'terror, I agree wholeheartedly and throw myself into the bloodshed and gore again and again.

"Saw", "The Ring","Texas Massacre"? Bring 'em on!! "The Hills Have Eyes"? I half-covered my eyes through it this afternoon. I actually paid $12 to watch a movie through a crack between my fingers. It was frightening! Bloody too.

Why do I subject myself to this? These films are actually uncomfortable to watch and I LOVE THEM.  Ms. M ¶ 9:13 PM