As a kid in the 80s TV kept me company after school every day until dinner time or until I got kicked outside to play in the yard. I remember every day for probably all of 88 and 89 when my grandma asked me what movie I wanted to watch I always said The Goonies. I loved sitting on her couch and having Goonie adventures with my Goonie friends. I've owned that movie (and Tommy Boy, which is tied for my #1 best movie) in every medium I've ever used, including VHS, DVD, UMD (the entire reason I bought a PSP was to watch movies in situations where I would otherwise have been expected to be social) and MP3 for my iPod and external hard drive, and I'll get it on whatever comes next. Once when I lived overseas and my husband was off doing military things, I watched it all the way through, then again with the commentary... and then again to see what they were all talking about. That's six hours of Goonies in a row and I've been tempted to do it again.
Over the years, those kids have taken turns being my best friend (as I'm sure you can well imagine there's historically been a shortage of non-imaginary best friends). Mouth and Data, played by Corey Feldman and Jonathan Ke Quan, shared my heart as the 'cute boys' of the movie back then and they were among my first celebrity crushes. Yes, the first of MANY. In general, my favorite Goonie has been Mikey although I really did, and still do, relate to poor Stef, who felt like she was babysitting except she wasn't getting paid.
I feel like I could probably pretty reliably say that everyone's favorite moments are brought to you by Chunk, played by Jeff Cohen. From the movie theater barf to the Truffle Shuffle to my personal favorite, the moment where the Fratellis take away his ice cream spoon and he is distraught!
That cracks me up every time.
Make sure to tell me your favorite part in the comments and which kid is/was your favorite. Also, if you've never seen the music video that Cyndi Lauper made for the movie, get ready to live! https://youtu.be/LxLhytQ67fs
And lastly, just as a side note: I wasn't ever really into Brand as a kid or like... ever. But right now, as an adult, Josh Brolin is HOT.
And that's all.
Never say die, my friends.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Monday, December 21, 2015
Home Alone
Okay, I know that I have two Christmas movies on my top ten list, and neither of them is Home Alone. I know that. But here's the thing: What I have to say about Home Alone is much more interesting than "I just like it SOOOOO MUCH!!!" Which is what I would have ended up writing about either Elf or A Christmas Story.
So, listen. If you were a girl born roughly 30-35 years ago and you say you never had a crush on Macaulay Culkin... well, that's just nuts. I have no reason to trust you anymore unless you just weren't into boys at all. Which I guess is an excuse, but it's the ONLY one. He had the cute-boy looks but you knew he was really a bad boy underneath it all. First of all, he was terrifying in The Good Son and if you didn't watch that you were cheated. There's currently a movie with the same name on Netflix but don't let it fool you. You probably just missed your chance to see Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in a scary movie, and Mack (that's what I called him; we were in pretend preteen love) was truly, truly frightening. At least he was to a kid. I haven't seen it since then. Also, he hung out with Michael Jackson and divorced his parents and got married when he was 17. He even wrote a book called Junior and if you ever find it, it is your immediate responsibility to get it into my hands, like, yesterday. Don't ever forget that!
Okay, sorry. Back to the movie.
I would guess that Home Alone is probably the most universally popular Christmas movie of all time. It's also one of the few movies that I can watch with my husband and our preschool-age kids that we all enjoy. The music, for one thing, is beautiful even though it's a comedy and that somehow works. Now, when you hear the word genius, you might think of just science and math but John Williams is definitely a musical genius. Like, what is the movie with the best score that you can think of? Star Wars? Jaws? Harry Potter? Indiana Jones? John Williams. It's all John Williams. Plus over 250 more movies and TV shows! That guy... he can afford to give out full-size Snickers at Halloween, you know what I mean?
My favorite part of Home Alone, though, was not even Kevin or the music. It's Daniel Stern's piercing shriek, after which he smashes Joe Pesci's ribs to bits with a crowbar in the tarantula scene.
Those two are the perfect pair for this movie and I'm glad to say that if either of them has ever made a bad movie, I haven't seen it. Joe Pesci has an interesting life story, too. In fact, that's another book I'd read like my life depended on it. Someone tell Joe Pesci to write a book right away. Tell him I said.
Alright, then. I've got tons more I could say (some of it even about the movie!) but I'm worried I'll end up assigning you more homework. I'll check in with you next week and of course I'll keep up with your comments to see how you're coming with Pesci and with the Culkin book. I also expect to see an argument or two from those of you who've seen a bad movie starring one of the Wet Bandits. I'd actually like to watch it.
Well, that's my two cents on Home Alone. Keep the change, ya filthy animal.
So, listen. If you were a girl born roughly 30-35 years ago and you say you never had a crush on Macaulay Culkin... well, that's just nuts. I have no reason to trust you anymore unless you just weren't into boys at all. Which I guess is an excuse, but it's the ONLY one. He had the cute-boy looks but you knew he was really a bad boy underneath it all. First of all, he was terrifying in The Good Son and if you didn't watch that you were cheated. There's currently a movie with the same name on Netflix but don't let it fool you. You probably just missed your chance to see Macaulay Culkin and Elijah Wood in a scary movie, and Mack (that's what I called him; we were in pretend preteen love) was truly, truly frightening. At least he was to a kid. I haven't seen it since then. Also, he hung out with Michael Jackson and divorced his parents and got married when he was 17. He even wrote a book called Junior and if you ever find it, it is your immediate responsibility to get it into my hands, like, yesterday. Don't ever forget that!
Okay, sorry. Back to the movie.
I would guess that Home Alone is probably the most universally popular Christmas movie of all time. It's also one of the few movies that I can watch with my husband and our preschool-age kids that we all enjoy. The music, for one thing, is beautiful even though it's a comedy and that somehow works. Now, when you hear the word genius, you might think of just science and math but John Williams is definitely a musical genius. Like, what is the movie with the best score that you can think of? Star Wars? Jaws? Harry Potter? Indiana Jones? John Williams. It's all John Williams. Plus over 250 more movies and TV shows! That guy... he can afford to give out full-size Snickers at Halloween, you know what I mean?
My favorite part of Home Alone, though, was not even Kevin or the music. It's Daniel Stern's piercing shriek, after which he smashes Joe Pesci's ribs to bits with a crowbar in the tarantula scene.
Those two are the perfect pair for this movie and I'm glad to say that if either of them has ever made a bad movie, I haven't seen it. Joe Pesci has an interesting life story, too. In fact, that's another book I'd read like my life depended on it. Someone tell Joe Pesci to write a book right away. Tell him I said.
Alright, then. I've got tons more I could say (some of it even about the movie!) but I'm worried I'll end up assigning you more homework. I'll check in with you next week and of course I'll keep up with your comments to see how you're coming with Pesci and with the Culkin book. I also expect to see an argument or two from those of you who've seen a bad movie starring one of the Wet Bandits. I'd actually like to watch it.
Well, that's my two cents on Home Alone. Keep the change, ya filthy animal.
Monday, December 14, 2015
NKOTB
When I was very young -young enough to need a babysitter- my mom used to leave me in the care of the local teenage girl. Okay, so there was more than ONE teenage girl...but certainly not more than five or six. It was a tiny town. Heather was our go-to and I loved her to death until I gave her attitude so bad that she passed me on to her sister, Sarah. I liked Sarah a lot because she was younger and a fun sitter, but I really missed Heather because she always brought music with her when she came. I don't remember everything she brought over but I do remember a few. My favorites were New Edition, The Boys and... drumroll, please... New Kids on the Block! Man, once I heard NKOTB, I was an instant Blockhead! I think I liked them before any of my friends, and I know for sure that I was still obsessed long after they had all moved on to Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer.
Oh, I listened to Hammertime and practiced the 2L2Quit hand motions with Stephanie over and over on the playground until I got it right. I spent a lot of time with Milli Vanilli and Billy Ray Cyrus in my Walkman, too. But the New Kids were always my #1. I had the bed sheets, the bath towel, the dolls, magazine posters hung all over my room, I read NKOTB novels and got their tapes for birthdays. I remember I spent hours every day all summer in my friend Danielle's backyard with our other friend Crystal trying to make the Step By Step choreography work with only three people. Those were the days before everyone could just go around recording every moment of their lives, but I assume we looked like professional dancers and sounded exactly like three Debbie Gibsons covering the New Kids. We must have. I'm sure of it.
I also remember pretty clearly arguing who was the best New Kid. Crystal loved Jordan and Danielle preferred Donnie, but I was always changing my mind. While I think I maintained a strict stance of either Danny or Jon for the sake of argument (Who can remember these things? It was 25 years ago. Wait... 25 years!?), they each had a turn as my favorite. Well, except for Donnie. He always scared me. Quite sensible, in my opinion, even now. Joey was the youngest and looked so sweet; Jordan and Jonathan had those pretty eyelashes and I have always been a sucker for those eyelashes; Danny... well, Danny works out. He's still my choice of the five guys.
They keep themselves busy these days touring with other boy bands and they usually do a cruise with fans each year, so if you have a spare gazillion dollars lying around feel free to grab me a ticket. Christmas is coming up, you know. They're all on Twitter, and they're kind of fun to follow, especially if you want updates on tours and stuff. If you want links, just ask in the comments and I'll find them for you. I'd really like to read about everyone else's NKOTB memories too, I know I'm not the only one who begged for a subscription to Bop Magazine trying to get new posters! Make your case in the comment section for cutest guy or tell me which video you learned the choreography to. Hopefully you will all be flooded with memories like I am, because I'd sure like to hear about them. Also, make sure to subscribe. There will be more to read next week that you won't want to miss!
And now for your enjoyment, my current NKOTB shirt. Don't get too jealous!
Oh, I listened to Hammertime and practiced the 2L2Quit hand motions with Stephanie over and over on the playground until I got it right. I spent a lot of time with Milli Vanilli and Billy Ray Cyrus in my Walkman, too. But the New Kids were always my #1. I had the bed sheets, the bath towel, the dolls, magazine posters hung all over my room, I read NKOTB novels and got their tapes for birthdays. I remember I spent hours every day all summer in my friend Danielle's backyard with our other friend Crystal trying to make the Step By Step choreography work with only three people. Those were the days before everyone could just go around recording every moment of their lives, but I assume we looked like professional dancers and sounded exactly like three Debbie Gibsons covering the New Kids. We must have. I'm sure of it.
I also remember pretty clearly arguing who was the best New Kid. Crystal loved Jordan and Danielle preferred Donnie, but I was always changing my mind. While I think I maintained a strict stance of either Danny or Jon for the sake of argument (Who can remember these things? It was 25 years ago. Wait... 25 years!?), they each had a turn as my favorite. Well, except for Donnie. He always scared me. Quite sensible, in my opinion, even now. Joey was the youngest and looked so sweet; Jordan and Jonathan had those pretty eyelashes and I have always been a sucker for those eyelashes; Danny... well, Danny works out. He's still my choice of the five guys.
They keep themselves busy these days touring with other boy bands and they usually do a cruise with fans each year, so if you have a spare gazillion dollars lying around feel free to grab me a ticket. Christmas is coming up, you know. They're all on Twitter, and they're kind of fun to follow, especially if you want updates on tours and stuff. If you want links, just ask in the comments and I'll find them for you. I'd really like to read about everyone else's NKOTB memories too, I know I'm not the only one who begged for a subscription to Bop Magazine trying to get new posters! Make your case in the comment section for cutest guy or tell me which video you learned the choreography to. Hopefully you will all be flooded with memories like I am, because I'd sure like to hear about them. Also, make sure to subscribe. There will be more to read next week that you won't want to miss!
And now for your enjoyment, my current NKOTB shirt. Don't get too jealous!
Monday, December 7, 2015
Stephen King
This one... may be lengthy. But that's totally fitting because the subject is Stephen King, the wordiest mofo in the business. I have a little story about Stephen King. Actually, I have a bunch. I'll most likely end up posting stories about him a few times. For today, though, I'll just start at the beginning. When I was a kid I read a lot. I don't ever remember reading many picture books, just Little Critter and The Berenstain Bears. I read a lot of chapter books about little kids like myself and I read them quickly. After I got tired of re-reading all my own books, I began to go to my mom's bookshelf and read whatever she had there. Like I said, I was really young, so I forget what kind of books I read at first, but I clearly remember when I got to Cujo, my first King novel. I was eight years old, and I was used to scary movies, so I was sure I'd be fine. Just a few pages in I stopped where I was and took the book nervously to my mom.
"Mom, are you sure I can read this?" I asked. "It has bad words in it."
"Hey, if you can read it... you're big enough to read it."
Now, clearly the 80s was a different time. Looking back I realize that my favorite movie, The Goonies (and most kids' movies at the time), were filled with cussing. I just never noticed until I went to show those old movies to my own kids. Oops. That doesn't fly nowadays. Anyway, when I took that book back to my room to read it, I just sat at first and thought about what my mom had said. It seemed I was done with the days where the grown-ups controlled what went into my head. The fact that my skill level was sufficient to read this adult book meant that I was advanced enough to read anything anybody had ever written about anyone. It meant that if I could sound it out, I could know it.
So there I was, eight years old, and I realized that I didn't need someone else to approve of my thoughts. That's pretty liberating for such a little kid. It's kind of exciting even now, and I'm glad I recognized it in the moment. I don't know if everyone sees it that way, but I'd love to hear if anyone else has a similar story. Put yours in the comments if you have one, because I'm very interested in reading it, and learning whether it was a book, a movie, music or something else altogether that did it for you. You know, it's funny. A few years ago he did a reading in New Orleans (through Octavia Books, found on Twitter at https://twitter.com/octaviabooks) and I was one of the first few people to buy a ticket. My friend and I got there hours early and there were only about 8 or 10 people ahead of us. We sat all afternoon and evening with a huge line forming behind us.
When the woman who introduced him started to speak, I started to cry. Yes, already. I mean, not like Sanjaya Girl or anything. Just slow, silent tears that basically didn't stop until I was on my way home. In my defense, I'd just had a baby and my hormones were all over the place. Two years later I went to see The Jacksons while I was 8 months pregnant with my second one. Full. On. Sobbing. But that's a story for another day. At the end of the Stephen King event, there was a Q&A and the line was crazy long. I considered standing there anyway, but I just couldn't think of anything to say. You read that right, as long winded as I am, as overdramatic with my stories, as talented as I am at pointless rambling... I couldn't even think of a single thing to tell the man I owe most of that to. I just sat there trying to come up with something, anything to say. I wish so desperately that it had occurred to me to tell him the story of how Cujo led to my own little renaissance and began to lead me out of the Dark Ages that I consider childhood to be.
All I wanted at the time was something to tell him that would make him remember me. After all, I'll remember seeing him for the rest of my life, you know? Of course, sitting on the front row in a room full of 1,000 people and silently weeping all Annie-Wilkes-style may have done the trick, so mission probably accomplished.
*shrug*
Anyway, a few more pictures for your enjoyment:
"Mom, are you sure I can read this?" I asked. "It has bad words in it."
"Hey, if you can read it... you're big enough to read it."
Now, clearly the 80s was a different time. Looking back I realize that my favorite movie, The Goonies (and most kids' movies at the time), were filled with cussing. I just never noticed until I went to show those old movies to my own kids. Oops. That doesn't fly nowadays. Anyway, when I took that book back to my room to read it, I just sat at first and thought about what my mom had said. It seemed I was done with the days where the grown-ups controlled what went into my head. The fact that my skill level was sufficient to read this adult book meant that I was advanced enough to read anything anybody had ever written about anyone. It meant that if I could sound it out, I could know it.
So there I was, eight years old, and I realized that I didn't need someone else to approve of my thoughts. That's pretty liberating for such a little kid. It's kind of exciting even now, and I'm glad I recognized it in the moment. I don't know if everyone sees it that way, but I'd love to hear if anyone else has a similar story. Put yours in the comments if you have one, because I'm very interested in reading it, and learning whether it was a book, a movie, music or something else altogether that did it for you. You know, it's funny. A few years ago he did a reading in New Orleans (through Octavia Books, found on Twitter at https://twitter.com/octaviabooks) and I was one of the first few people to buy a ticket. My friend and I got there hours early and there were only about 8 or 10 people ahead of us. We sat all afternoon and evening with a huge line forming behind us.
When the woman who introduced him started to speak, I started to cry. Yes, already. I mean, not like Sanjaya Girl or anything. Just slow, silent tears that basically didn't stop until I was on my way home. In my defense, I'd just had a baby and my hormones were all over the place. Two years later I went to see The Jacksons while I was 8 months pregnant with my second one. Full. On. Sobbing. But that's a story for another day. At the end of the Stephen King event, there was a Q&A and the line was crazy long. I considered standing there anyway, but I just couldn't think of anything to say. You read that right, as long winded as I am, as overdramatic with my stories, as talented as I am at pointless rambling... I couldn't even think of a single thing to tell the man I owe most of that to. I just sat there trying to come up with something, anything to say. I wish so desperately that it had occurred to me to tell him the story of how Cujo led to my own little renaissance and began to lead me out of the Dark Ages that I consider childhood to be.
All I wanted at the time was something to tell him that would make him remember me. After all, I'll remember seeing him for the rest of my life, you know? Of course, sitting on the front row in a room full of 1,000 people and silently weeping all Annie-Wilkes-style may have done the trick, so mission probably accomplished.
*shrug*
Anyway, a few more pictures for your enjoyment: