Flying out to LA Wednesday night, they played a movie. I decided I should stay awake, so watched the movie. Plus they gave free headphones, so I figured what the heck. Even though it was Journey to the Center of the Earth - the new one with Brendan Frasier - which I had heard wasn't all that great. In fact the greatness to what extent it existed was the fact that it was 3-D.
In any event, all around me was darkness and sleeping people. Then comes a huge flying fish with great big pirahna-type teeth straight at me. I screamed.
Oops! All around me, people stared with evil looks - the ones that woke up that is, of which there were quite a few. I covered my mouth and looked sheepish, and kept my mouth covered for the entire rest of the movie.
I was reminded of the time my brother brought me to Broadway to see Death Trap (with Christopher Reeve! that tells you how long ago). I was towards the front. When someone got killed and it was a huge surprise, I screamed. Noone else in the theater did, and again, everyone looked at me, though with not quite so much evil.
The entire weekend climbing, I had my screaming moments. It just is. I can't help it. People who climb with me regularly know I do it, and don't really listen until I say some key word that would mean something more serious. But I was climbing with a few people who hadn't climbed with me. I'm sure it is indeed freaky to hear a yelp when you are at the bottom, and can't see me, and you think I'm falling off the other side of the rock. One guy got so sick of it, he proposed getting a bark collar for me - jokingly, but I'm sure he would have liked to use one if he could find one quickly.
No, I don't scream during sex, sorry.
And I forgot my bra today.
Back to my nasty evil financial report.