I didn’t sleep well last night.
And while it could be that I have the sleep pattern of a psychopath, have 22,000 items still left on my to-do list, trash on trash television programs patiently waiting for me on my DVR to watch, 2 books I’m currently reading, wondering what James Franco is up to in a very moment, etc. etc. etc.
Last night, however, I’m going to blame lack of sleep on this bitch.
You’ve probably have started to see previews for the upcoming film Annabelle, which is the prequel to The Conjuring and follows the story of a couple who begin to experience supernatural incidents involving a vintage doll shortly after their home is invaded by satanic cultists.
Now, listen. It’s known I have a fiery love for all things Horror films, but let me have a moment of honesty.
Antique dolls creep me out. I can watch Child’s Play all day and not blink an eye, but those old school dolls? Hand me my purse, because I’m out.
My spirit still isn’t right from Dead Silence.
Now here comes this damn doll’s cousin Annabelle twerking all over my peace with her creepiness. To me, she was the scariest part of The Conjuring and she was only in the film for a grand total of probably about 15 minutes. She scared the hell out of us, got her check and bounced, and returning to terrorize in 30 seconds or less until next month. And yes, I’m the girl that changes the commercial every time she arrives on my television and puts on the channel with all the church programs or The Disney Channel. Annabelle wouldn’t DARE step in Mickey’s house with that shit.
Arriving in my face also, is another story.
Despite my punk ass feelings toward her, will I be in attendance for the Annabelle premiere?
Scream out in theaters with this idiot when Annabelle hits theaters everywhere October 3rd.