This is insane. I really thought I was the only one. Apparently not.
I have been traumatized by E.T. No, not that horrendous TV show dedicated to giving celebrities their daily blowjobs (although, as an adult, that shit truly is TERRIFYING). No, I'm talking about the Steven Spielberg movie from 1982 with the little brown alien that everyone thinks is so fucking cute. Yeah, that E.T.
I was a mere 2 years old when that movie came out, and one of my parents (probably my mom. bless her heart) took me to the theater to see it. Now, a 2 year old in a theater is bad enough, but if you remember that opening scene, (the one with the scary guys with flashlights and guns and the aliens with their creepy fingers and spaceship and then that little fucking alien running through the forest with the most horrible shriek I have ever heard!!!) then you know that it is pretty intense for a normal person, much less a 2 year old.
Let's just say I didn't stop screaming until my mom got me home. Seriously.
I had never seen the entire movie until this past December 31. Seriously.
Even seeing that creepy-ass face on a cereal box was too much for me, up until about a year ago. Seriously.
I had recurring nightmares about E.T. until I was 25. SERIOUSLY.
E.T. and me: not cool.
So, today I'm procrastinating and reading Pajiba, and I start looking at the comment thread (awesome way to pass the time, dudes) and the first motherfucking comment is this guy saying he was scared of E.T. Wow, I think, I've never heard of anyone else being scared of that. People (especially my FAMILY, assholos) always used to make fun of me (read:torture me) about this particular phobia (despite the fact that my brother used to have nightmares about ranch dressing, ha!) and for the longest time I really thought that I had some repressed childhood memory attached to E.T. that manifested itself in the form of terror.
Apparently, there is an entire generation of us that are scarred by the most lovable alien ever to be created for the silver screen. Spielburg, I'm forwarding my therapy bills to you. And I suggest that everyone else do the same. Motherfucker.
I mean, I'm sorry but THIS:
If I saw something like that poking its face around a door, I'd either a. run away screaming or b. try to fight it and then run away screaming.
Or, at least I would have a year ago.
My husband took me to see this movie, all the way through for the first time, on December 31, 2006. Yep, just 8.5 months ago. It was playing at our local brew 'n view, and we were super bored, so we ate some mushrooms and went to see the movie.
And you know what? E.T. was a good movie. I was really surprised. After a lifetime of unexplainable terror, a crushing sensation in my chest just hearing those two little letters, a jump of fright in my stomach when inadvertently seeing its image, I was able to watch the movie and enjoy it.
But sometimes when the moon is just right, and my imagination decides to take hold of my brain functions, I can still hear the scritchscratch coming from the darkened bathroom and know that He's there, waiting for me.