The new horror movie The Strangers starring Liv Tyler has kind of scared the motherf**king shit out of me. Tyler stars as an appletini-sipping tomb raiding space alien from Israel who turns green when she's angry and really just wants to cut hair (or a beautiful woman who's just turned down her boyfriend's marriage proposal and must spend the rest of the movie trying not to get hacked to death--I don't know, I was watching through my damn fingers).
This movie has forever changed the way I think about people in spooky kabuki masks showing up at 4 in the morning and knocking on my door asking for some bitch named Tamara. (F**k Tamara, man. F**k her.) It used to not bother me. Now I sit up at night just waiting for that knock. That booming, angry, horrible knock.
I also never want to hear a Joanna Newsom or Wilco song again. Their music portends twisted and excruciating murder games, and I'll have none of it.
Worst of all, thanks to this movie I've now realized the evil intent of one of my most prized souvenirs from my last visit to Japan a few years ago. Yes, it's a mask that I thoughtfully bought for my boyfriend at the cheap Asian market on Omotesando Dori in Harajuku and it sits balefully on my bathroom wall, just waiting to pounce. Its painted on smile hides an unimaginable evil that seeks to ruin my showers for the rest of my life, the end.
The Japanese mask on my bathroom wall has just
figured out a great new way to murder me.
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