Why I Laugh At Boobies

I was exposed to horror movies at a very young age, and it’s had a lasting effect. Seeing the Jaws 2 at 6, Jaws soon after, the Exorcist at 10, and Psycho at 11 changed my life.

I cannot go in the ocean today and not think about Jaws.

I cannot get in the shower and not think about being attacked by a nut job dressed as his mother, with a knife.

My parents took me to see Jaws 2 while we were on summer vacation at the Jersey Shore. This was before Snookie and the Situation were even BORN. In all their wisdom, they thought it would be a fun movie for a little kid to see, in the theater, while staying at the beach. “Have fun in the water tomorrow son!”

Soon after, at my aunt’s house, on something new called “HBO” I saw Jaws. I was warned it was going to be scary and asked if I could handle it. What was I going to say? I was good until fisherman Ben’s head pops out of the bottom of the boat with the eye protruding. Scared the Hell out of me. I was then decided I couldn’t handle the rest of the movie so I was sent to bed. Alone. Show a kid a movie, scare the Hell out of him, and then punish him.

Exorcist was actually part of a movie marathon. One of those all day/all night BBQs where the parents eat and drink and the kids hang out. Our neighbors had this new thing called a VCR. Played movies on tapes. We started with The Howling, then Alien, then King Kong 77. That’s a lot of movies. Then the moms showed up and wanted to know what we were watching. Then suggested we all watch Exorcist. Told us it was scary, asked if we could handle it. What were we going to say? Still the scariest movie ever. That night after we went home was probably the longest night of my life. Everything was the devil or that possessed chick coming to take me away.

The 80s horror movie explosion coupled with movie channels on cable TV was a boon for the corruption of my innocence and my desensitization to sex and violence. Halloween movies, Friday the 13th movies, Nightmare on Elm Street movies, as well as any number of formulaic knock-offs with a killer and teen sex.

My mom held the VCR remote, and controlled the universe. Whenever there was a particularly gory killing, she’d utilize the remote to relive, reexamine, and review. As VCRs and remote functions improved, so did our examination of the slasher killings. Mom was the queen of the remote, and could capture details with pause, rewind, and slow mo, that the best CSI labs couldn’t get.

We would watch every killing in gruesome detail, over and over. However, when the inevitable sex scene or boob shot came along, my mother would frown and make me cover my eyes. Funny thing was, I was cool with the scenes, and it was my Mom with the issues.

My Dad hated horror movies. On movie nights when we were going to watch one, he’d get up, mumble something like “enjoy your crap” and wonder off to bed. Of course, it could be 5 minutes, or 50 minutes later, and he sex or nudity could only last for 5 seconds. That was the time he’d come stumbling out for a glass of water, or to the bathroom. He’d stare at the TV and groan “what the Hell are you watching!?”

To this day when I watch a movie with my Mom, she still tells me to cover my eyes if there’s nudity or sex. I tell her I’ve actually seen real boobies up close. Of course now, I might be more uncomfortable seeing this stuff with my Mom than when I was a kid. I was watching a horror movie with my father-in-law a couple of years ago, and a fairly graphic sex scene came on. I told him “sorry, I had no idea…” He said, “It’s OK, I like boobies!”

So I suppose in some way, all this has desensitized me to violence on TV and in movies. Nothing really fazes me, not even the news. Now that I have kids and dogs, sometimes violence towards kids and animals bothers me. Even if the kids or animals are evil.

I can’t watch breaking bones or dislocating limbs, real or fake. That DOES bother me. I’ve never seen the Joe Theisman broken leg clip all the way through. Probably because I’ve dislocated my knees so many times, so I can empathize a little more.

Nevertheless, I still giggle when I see onscreen boobies. Plus, I still call them “boobies.”