People bites freak me out. I’ve never been one to enjoy sexy little nibbles on the neck, play biting or any sort of related foolishness. I can only attribute this to when I came in the room when my parents were watching “Cape Fear” and Robert DeNiro took a bite out of some lady’s cheek. At the tender age of 10, this likely scarred me for life.

While calmly doing the dishes this weekend, MF came up behind me and kissed my neck. Sweet right? Totes… Until he went “RAWWWR” and proceed to play-bite me in the neck.

My first instinct was to screech in terror and instantly crumple up on the floor of the kitchen.

He walks away laughing, but frustrated. I’m still laying flat on my back on the floor of the kitchen. Laughing hysterically, of course.

“How can I have any fun with you when you just play dead like a goddamn possum?!”

LOL.

I was also accused of such “possum-esque” behavior when we went to Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios for my birthday last month. After I got over the initial desire to piss myself in fear at the first haunted house we went to (in broad daylight) I was comforted by the fact that the actors (read: terrifying zombie monsters) couldn’t actually touch me.

My solution? Freeze in my tracks. If I’m not moving, they can’t chase me. If I’m not being chased, I’m less terrified. My brain said “maybe if I don’t move, they wont see me”… because zombies are totally like a t-rex.