Did I Kill Davy Jones? Also, Thus End'th The Shortening

As we say goodbye to 2012's 2nd Annual Attack of the Vertically Challenged Villains: The Shortening, it brings me incredible sadness to mourn the passing of my very first crush and perennial petite powerhouse, Monkees lead singer Davy Jones.

Growing up in the late '80s, I fell in love with basic cable's reruns of their comedy show, so much so that I used my very first tin of push pins to hang posters of Davy's sparkling eyes on my bedroom walls. Two years ago, I blushed my way through meeting him at New Jersey's Chiller Theater convention where I was excited to discover he was still good-looking AND a good inch and a half taller than me.

While there, I bought a fan club worthy autographed 8x10 glamor shot that still proudly hangs over my toilet, meaning Mr. Jones will forever watch over those who do their bodily business in my apartment.

Davy Jones passed away on Leap Day. As far as I'm concerned, that implies we only have to acknowledge the fact that he died every four years and therefore can go back to daydream believing him back into existence for the other three. That's how the system works and I'm sticking to it.

It's a fitting, solemn end to 2012's Shortening, though personally, I'm a tad disturbed. See, just two weeks ago, I also had to mourn the passing of a celebrity I harbored serious romantic feelings for throughout my elementary school years: former Mets catcher and baseball Hall of Famer Gary Carter, who succumbed to brain cancer on February 16th. If I could have been an underage polygamist in a highly experimental tribe, you can bet a few leprechauns that I would have been Mrs. Emily Intravia-Carter-Jones. It worries me to see the highlights of my youth taken before their time. Now let us lend kind thoughts and extra bodyguards to other notable entries in my imaginary lovebook, including fellow vertically challenged superstars Rick Moranis and Martin Short.

On the sunnier side, we have one last round of Shortening sharing! Thanks and cuddles to the following bloggers who tackled some vertically challenged villains and lived to write about it:


Over at Cinema Gonzo, sir Thomas Duke headed back to the swinging '60s for the oddball little person horror, Curse of the Doll People. Find it in its glory this way

Also on a Mexican trek was Ms. Mermaid Heather, who opened up the toy chest for a review of Dolly Dearest and thusly conquered both The Shortening and Women In Horror Month:

The cool as an air conditioned space Elwood Jones headed up north for one of my personal favorites, David Cronenberg's extra gooey The Brood. Go have a taste.

Dare you forget T.L. Bugg's swap duty covering 2008's killer kids in a winter wonderland classic, The Children. It might not be a fair fight for poor Darby O'Gill's leprechaun army, but the Bugg still does it right.

Finally, though I failed to find a proper doll flick for this month's festivities, the Direct to Video Connoisseur came to the rescue with pristine coverage of Puppet Master 2 and the quick cut-and-paste job (of the movie; not the review) for Dollman vs. Demonic Toys.

As we march on through March, there are glimmers of hope: HorrorHound Weekend's biannual snugglefest, a hopeful Leprechaun marathon on the SyFy Channel, the return of Community, the quest to snag a green milkshake in the Bronx that's supposed to be that way. Will anything top little people conning men out of their souls, shrunken men fighting tarantulas, Mickey Rooney encouraging child labor, or Harry Potter trying to out-act creepy monkey dolls? It's hard to say but I take comfort in knowing we will always have 2012's Shortening, and more importantly, Davy Jones will always watch my houseguests pee.

Goodbye to the Great Pumpkin King

Was it good for you? I hope so, but ten popcorn balls says my Halloween was the best ever! It was actually life changing: I now officially heart New Jersey as it's home to Chiller Theater, a bat sanctuary, and fantastic people that have incredible weddings. 

As expected, our Clueful costumes were a hit. Dear friends/foes Erica and Lisa dazzled as those saucy sirens, Mrs. White and Ms. Scarlett. My Mrs. Peacock was simply divine in a gold lamme top (Burlington), horrendously mustardly flowered blouse (Filene's Basement), and shimmering A-line skirt brought to you by the Gap, Joanne’s Fabrics, Erica’s handiwork, and sticks of hot glue. It held up through gleeful Monster Mash-ing and uncoordinated Electric Sliding, plus countless queries by party guests about where our Colonel Mustard was.

Are we missing something? When did Martin Mull’s military murderer become the most beloved Clue character? Isn’t it more fun to say “Professor Plum?”

Anyway, that was my official Halloween. Sunday was spent at Chiller Theatre, a gigantic horror convention held in Parsippany, NJ, and perhaps the first one I’ve ever attended that was not being trolled by the scowl of Tom Savini. Fun was had, and my highlights are as follows:

-Buying a DVD of Frogenstein, a collection of a few Muppet meetups with horror icons such as Vincent Price

-Touching my cheek to Davy Jones for a photo op that made me swoon. He’s very tan, very sing songy, and still very damn adorable

-Narrowing my eyes at Richard Dreyfuss when he walked through the line I was waiting on without saying excuse me

-Chatting with the Brothers Hodder about disco, Davy Jones’ fans, and Hatchet 2. Apparently those are the kinds of questions I should have been asking at our “interview” last month

-hearing Louise Robey, the flame-haired lead on Friday the 13th: the Series, belt out a few notes to an adoring fan. It was weird.

-Having a very interesting conversation with artist Roger Kastel, the artist who designed such iconic posters as Jaws and The Empire Strikes Back. He had a wonderful attitude about his work and seemed to genuinely enjoy discussing his process

-Discovering that every single female that once posed nude has either the world's best stylish, plastic surgeon, or blood supply from virgins to maintain healthy glows. Also, most actresses that have ever appeared in genre films are so tiny, they make Dreyfuss look only slightly shorter than average height

We closed out the weekend of amazingness with an evening trip to see Saw VI, which I’ll review this week (hopefully) as soon as I find the power to harness any remaining energy bestowed upon me by discounted fun-size bars.

It’s been a beautiful October and I’m sadder than a fat kid with a dropped ice cream cone that it’s over. Dearest horror bloggers and readers, I pose this question: How can we make November a worthy, or mildly not-too-much-of-a-letdown followup?

There just aren’t enough films about killer turkeys, pilgrims, or the voting public. Deep sigh, silenced by an early round of stuffing laced with candy corn.

A Preview

Guess what?


It's here!





And so is my costume. Last night was the trial run for Mrs. Peacock, whose feathers remained inside her head. As was expected, many a party goer didn't quite get the look (one man was fairly convinced I was an owl). What surprised me was that both myself and Ms. White were such a big hit with Little Red Riding Hoods. While I don't know what inspired so many Long Island ladies to dress as the woodsy tease, I was more than happy that of all the people who stared at my costume last night, the only two to immediately get it before any explanation or waving of my giant Party City hunting knife were dressed as so.


Anyway, today is more costuming and a Halloween wedding. Tomorrow is Chiller Theater, where I'm hoping to touch my first crush ever, Mr. Davy Jones. What the sprightly Monkee has to do with horror is beyond me but the very fact that I can see, in the flesh, a man whose poster once graced my seven-year-old bedroom wall is fine by me.


I was an odd kid.


HAPPY HALLOWEEN!