We all have that list embedded inside our brain. The list of things that scare the bejesus out of us  making us have reoccurring nightmares  until we’ve spent thousands of dollars on psychotherapy trying to convince ourselves that whatever it is that creeps us out isn’t THAT bad. Since I’m poor and have crappy health coverage I am forced  to deal with these demons hoping that one day some one in my family will actually graduate college with a psychology degree so I can get some free therapy and overcome my fears.

Below I have listed the top ten things that make me shake, quiver and sometimes cry and sometimes, maybe pee my pants.

Snakes scare the shit out of me. It doesn’t matter if it’s a 20 ft snake or a 2 inch snake, size doesn’t matter! (that’s what she said)  If a snake appears on the television screen I start shaking like I’m having an epileptic seizure. I’ve felt this way about these scaly, armless, legless and disgusting demons since I was a little kid. I have even convinced myself that if you do something REALLY bad during your stint here on earth God will reincarnate you as a snake. I’m not kidding! I really believe this is probably 99.99 percent true. Do something bad and God will either make you come back as a snake or as Jocelyn Wildenstein. God doesn’t joke around. He means business!

I remember when Snakes on a Plane came out. I didn’t watch T.V. for almost a month because I was afraid the coming attractions for that sick and twisted movie would flash on the screen and then I’d shit my pants. Snakes are no joking matter.  The first snake ever recorded in literature was friggen Satan for God’s sake! That right there says it all! That snake may have been able to trick Adam and Eve but it sure isn’t going to trick me.

She’s evil. Not only is she a spawn of the devil, she’s also in love with my boyfriend and is mean to me because I’m the one dating him. Waking up in the morning and leaving the bedroom is like a 007 mission. I always open the door slowly and run to the bathroom and slam the door shut because she’s always hiding somewhere ready to leap onto me with her claws out. Half the time I make it into the bathroom safely but my safety net ends once I’m finished and I’m forced to make my way downstairs. I quickly open the door and try to run down the stairs before the evil fur ball attacks but it always fails. My skin looks like I’ve been in a cage fight with The Wolverine!  I lock my bedroom door when I sleep because I’m convinced that the evil fur ball has figured out how to turn the knob.  I don’t want her unleashing her jealous fury on me in the middle of the night.

The other morning while I was getting ready for work, I was in such a hurry I forgot to close the bathroom door.  She devil sauntered by, stopping long enough to issue me a menacing glare.  Once my panic subsided, I asked myself how bad it would be if I just opened the front door and let her out.  I could claim it was an “accident” to both my boyfriend and my son who have an unnatural attachment to this possessed feline.  This thought hovered in my brain for some time, but then I thought about my son and how he would react to the news that his cat “ran away” and the jury in my brain quickly decided that it would be easier to endure the severe pain and emotional stress be perpetrated on me by the CAT then to have to listen to a whining, crying six year old for the next six to twelve months or until he forgets about the stupid thing.

For the record, I have nothing against Asians, old people or midgets but once the three are combined, the resulting product is something that I am sure would give me nightmares for the rest of my life. I’ve never even seen one but every once and a while I think about it and it gives me shivers.  They’re kind of like Big Foot.  I have a feeling they exist but until someone comes face to face with one, or in this case, knee to face, the world will never really know the truth. I don’t even have a photo of this mythical creature because when I Googled “old Asian midget” nothing came up.  That’s how scary they are.  Not even a picture!  Even Big Foot gets a picture.

Disgusting. Every time we go to the mall and dine at the food court his fart monster eyes light up because that means Taco Bell is in his immediate future. The man doesn’t get one burrito – he gets three to start. I watch with pure fear as he consumes each bite because I know what the night time is going to hold for me.

When he’s done with the first course of his fast food Mexican delight, he gets a look in his eye that I’ve only seen on Animal Planet right before two mammals begin their mating ritual. As he rises from his chair so he can order his next course, I grab onto his ankles, begging and pleading for him to have mercy on me, but it never works.  Eventually he shakes loose of me, makes his way over to the counter and purchases another two bean filled burritos the comes back to the table to devour them before my very eyes. That’s when my terror strikes because at that very moment I know I am going to be driven out of my bed and onto my couch by the Taco Bell Man Fart. The worst thing is that sleeping on the couch doesn’t even work because Taco Bell Man Farts travel. They can go through walls, doors, down stairs and even cross streets. It’s one of the worst smells in the world and even has the ability to burn nose hairs. Since the mall where we live houses the only Taco Bell on the island, I have called the Department of Health several times issuing bogus complaints, but either the gaseous eatery is clean or the health inspector is a fan of the place himself because it is still open and my boyfriend is still farting.

Half Man + Half Horse = Total Creep! Who the hell thought of this thing?! I’ve never really looked the topic up online because I’d rather not know more or see too many pictures of this creeptastic man horse. They’re not real right? Please say they’re in the same boat as Big Foot and Old Asian Midgets and that I have a better chance of running into the ghost of Elizabeth Taylor on the streets of Brooklyn than this friggen thing!

When I was a toddler with no friends of my own, E.T. used to be my imaginary friend….that is until we got into a heated argument over who got to use my EZ Bake Oven first. I won and then cut all ties with the naked big headed alien. I tried to ignore him for the longest time and sort of missed the little alien bastard until………

I saw this picture pop up on the notebook of one of my classmates

I will admit I was a fan of Michael Jackson and E.T. was an old friend but there was something about this picture that really freaked me the fuck out. I don’t know if it was the pose or the fact that subconsciously – deep down inside, I knew that Michael Jackson was molesting young boys. Whatever it was it creeped me out and I didn’t like it one bit!

With a face only a blind mother could love, I find myself pausing the T.V. so I can study her mug every time she pops up on screen. I don’t know how many plastic surgeries this hot, Latin mess has had over the years but it wouldn’t surprise me if one of them involved running a Mack truck tire over her face repeatedly.

It’s not just her face that scares me, everything about her makes me quiver inside. What scares me even more is that she agreed to be on national television with that potato head and sees nothing wrong with instilling fear in viewers like me. God forbid a small child catches a glimpse of her while walking passed the television. Is Elsa Patton going to pay for that child’s therapy sessions because they can no longer see a Mr.Potato Head without shitting their pants? I don’t think so. Who can I write to, to have her removed from the show? Maybe I’ll call Mob Wives and see what they can do to help me out.

Is it a flat top? Is it a tail? What is going on here?

He had long hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail for the longest time and then one day last month he came to work with this thing on his head. I can’t even take him seriously because it’s just way too ridiculous. It has the scare factor because it reminds me of a Platypus.I had a near death experience involving one when I was a kid. Too long of a story to get into but let’s just say Platypus’ are not as sweet as they seem on Phineas and Ferb.

Let’s face it, the 90’s had some of the most unflattering fashion trends that I can remember. Women basically dressed like men that had no style. Baggy bright colored jeans, flannels, Doc Martens and…Cross Colours. Wearing Cross Colours basically made you look like a ghetto fabulous Rainbow Brite. There was nothing cooler than wearing the brand and if you didn’t own anything with the label you were considered a loser. I was a loser. My parents weren’t rich like they are now when I was a kid so the only Cross Colours shirt I owned was a knock off one that I bought for $4.99 from some crack head peddling them outside of Pathmark. I thought I could get away with it but the crack head apparently had no spelling skills because he spelt Cross Colours: Cross Colers. I didn’t pick up on it until I was at school during lunch and had three tables of cool kids laughing at me. It gave me flashbacks of when I finally got my first pair of Nike Pumps and rocked them to the school dance only to find out they went out of style six months prior.

Anyway, as I was saying before, Cross Colours can not make a come back because they make you look stupid and it brings back bad memories of having meatballs thrown at me from across the cafeteria thanks to a certain uneducated crack head outside of the neighborhood Pathmark.

Is he acting when he’s not? Is he not acting when he is? One will never know because Jeff Goldblum shows no emotion and is monotone in every single situation. You can put him in a wedding scene, a funeral, a car crash,a bar mitzvah. Whatever the scenario is you will never know what emotions Jeff Goldblum is feeling because he just blurts out dialogue with a blank look on his face. What scares me more is the longevity of his acting career. Who actually screen tests him for casting and says, “Wow, that Jeff Goldblum really felt the part. He was so in touch with the character. We must have him in this movie!”??? Unless he was trying to be cast for the role of Vickie in the hit 80’s television sitcom Small Wonder, there is no way anyone can take this freak of nature seriously. I would love to know what goes on with him during sex. I may ask Donato if it’s okay for me to fly out to LA and track ”Mr.Emotions” down so I can seduce him and find out.

So there you have it. Those are the many things that make my insides shake like a meth addicts eyeballs after a four day speed binge. I’m not proud of most of my fears and I know that a handful of the things listed wouldn’t even phase let alone scare a two year old. I’m sure if you ask a “normal person” what their fears are they would most likely say something like, bears, death or lions not manhorses, actors or cats. Oh well.

If anyone reading this is a certified psychologist and is looking to do a case study on lunatics I will be more than willing to volunteer because now I am imagining Jeff Goldblum centaurs running around because of this blog and nothing good can ever come of a Jeff Goldblum centaur.