For real? Who needs Jason in a hockey mask when she can tune into these gory TV shows

I thought my love affair with Halloween would taper off once my kids stopped trick-or-treating. It didn’t. Then I told myself when I had full-fledged adult children I would release my death grip on my bins of Halloween decorations. This also has not happened, leading me to realize that my Halloween addiction is here to stay.

My Halloween obsession confuses me because I can’t abide anything frightening. I haven’t seen a scary movie in decades. Even if the movie can be classified as mildly scary, I’m still not interested. I also don’t care for anything that is gory except for “Dr. Pimple Popper.”

If you’re wondering who “Dr. Pimple Popper” is, in the briefest of terms she’s a dermatologist who has a TV show where she “extracts” people’s lumps, bumps and assorted epidermoid and sebaceous cysts. It’s a two-fer platter of disgusting and disturbing.

Oh, don’t get me wrong: I’m incredibly ashamed I watch it. Not as ashamed as I am over the fact that after watching the show, I once spent almost an hour of my life eating half of a pumpkin pie while wallowing in the “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” reunion. (On the pie: I did a chai latte version and it was amazing. Cardamon for the win.)

Yes, I know these “Housewives” shows in terms of scary and gory make Dr. Pimple Popper seem tame. I could list the reasons why this “Housewife” franchise is frightening, but who has that kind of time?

OK, maybe me. But still, I don’t want to go there. I will say that the makeup for the Beverly Hills reunion could be nominated for a special effects Emmy.

These women aren’t exactly slackers in the cosmetic surgery department, and to be fair they all seem to be blessed with some natural beauty attributes as well. This is why I was bewildered by the volume and quantity of makeup that was layered on some of their faces. I realize that an HD camera is a cruel mistress, but it appeared as if their next stop could be, I don’t know, a “Ghostbusters” reboot.

Needing a break from the “Real Housewives” shouting, I felt the need to channel change and received a gift from the TV gods. “CSI: Vegas” is on the air: again. As in not re-runs but an actual new “CSI: Vegas” with some of the former cast reunited in the lab.

Welcome back to the show that made terms like “trace evidence” and “chain of custody” part of my lexicon. As in, “when my daughter lost the chain of custody for her lunchbox we found it by following the trace evidence of a half eaten Smucker’s Uncrustable.”

Sure, I will admit that these types of shows have a certain ick factor, with the whole dead bodies in a morgue theme but at least they’re based in science unlike most horror films. I will give you that Victor Frankenstein was a scientist. An insane one, but he did have an impressive laboratory for the late 1700s.

Wait a minute: I think I’ve just self-diagnosed my attraction to Halloween. Maybe I do like a high creep factor and enjoy getting scared?

Just look at my TV viewing on a random Wednesday night. Oozing body parts — check. Scary women in excessive face-altering makeup screaming at each other — also check. Laboratory centered shows where dead bodies pile up — check again.

This explains so much. I guess I’m all about being horrified, just not by Jason in a hockey mask. Maybe my perfect Halloween is a “Real Housewife” getting a sebaceous cyst stabbed by Dr. Pimple Popper in a CSI lab.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.