let's take a moment here and talk about childhood scars. we all have them, and everyone has a different reaction to their triggers. some react by shrinking away and curling up in the fetal position -- the passive reaction. some react by yelling, screaming, attacking, or some other kind of violent outburst -- the aggressive reaction. but we've all got our something.
there are multiple things that scarred me as a child -- green olives, for example, left their mark on me early. when i was in fifth grade, my friend krista had a birthday party, complete with a sleepover. after eating decidedly unhealthy portions of cake and ice cream, we, being the pre-pubescent girls we were, decided that it would be a good idea to order a pizza. "green olives," krista insisted. none of us really wanted green olives, but it was her birthday after all, so we went along with it. eating that many green olives on a pizza caused a fairly disgusting consequence, especially after the previous birthday festivities. i haven't been able to come in contact with green olives since that time, and that was quite a long time ago.
green olives, however, is not the subject that i'm going to talk about here.
i'm going to talk about a movie that scarred me quite badly as a child.



yeah. that one.
gene wilder is one of the most talented men ever to grace the big, silver, or any other kind of screen. i'll watch any one of his movies in a heartbeat. except that one.
oh my god, i'm getting creeped out just looking at that picture.
the oompa-loompas haunted my dreams. that horrific song they chant plays through my head like the soundtrack to a horror movie. while i can appreciate parts of the movie on a very very very superficial level, i just cannot deal with it. there is one part in particular, however, that epitomizes the absolute disgusting nature of that movie. you know the part where that girl eats the gum and turns into a blueberry and the oompa-fricken-loompas roll her away? yeah.
there is a reason that this is coming out now. there's a girl that i live with (for the sake of ease, let's call her "kristen"), and she thinks that she's the queen of funny. for example, i really hate gwen stefani's solo music, and "kristen" thinks it's hilarious to play it as loud as her speakers will allow her to. "kristen" recently found out about my fear (i think "fear" is the appropriate word) of this movie, and thinks that playing the "oompa-loompa song" as loud as she can and watching me react with aggression is a worthy and formidable pastime. the frequency has intensified in the last few weeks, causing a sudden blogging outburst about the horror that this movie brings about for me.
i don't know if i can even talk about this anymore. i'm getting serious goosebumps.
the ironic thing is that i really want a chocolate bar right now.