Scaredy Cat

Skimming the post about last night’s haunt on my blog, I still don’t know how I managed to get through my review without using the words mediocre or rug burn.

I’d been pretty nice, all things considered, though I like to think I’m always pretty nice even when I hate somewhere I’ve been or a movie I’ve seen.

The rug burn on my knee aches, even a day later, as if to remind me just how mediocre Scare Factory was.

When I absently reach down to rub it through the fabric of my leggings, I briefly wonder if I should’ve worn something a bit more comfortable than leggings, a skirt, combat boots, and a t-shirt with the public service announcement, All men are cremated equal written in big letters.