So here I lounge, with a busted up Achilles tendon, bilateral plantar fasciitis and a resurgent case of bursitis in my hip. What this means is that by law I must now watch 17 episodes of the following television programs, based on my Suddenly Acquired Right To Bitch Nonstop About My Goddamn Lumbago*. I can also eat unlimited amounts of Werthers Originals, wear a sweater when it’s like 96F outside, and throw some cats atcho haid.
Murder, She Wrote
The Golden Girls
Mystery! on PBS
The Love Boat/Fantasy Island double header (counts as one show, I took a poll)
Nah, seriously you guys. I have writer’s block. Write me some convoluted letters so I can tell you what to do. FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.
*I don’t have this. Yet.
I’d like to take this time to answer any questions you have about either the movie or the book “The Outsiders”. We can focus mostly on denim, hair grease, and why so much fuckin’ unrelenting bad, terrible shit had to happen to poor little Johnny (played by a superlatively greasy and adorably teeny-tiny Ralph Macchio), and also we can debate why Matt Dillon was allowed to act ever again, especially in the artsy-fartsy Rumblefish, which was actually filmed in black & white so that, you know: undershirts.
At some point we’re going to delve a bit further into why all of the required “teen fiction” I was made to read when I was but a callow adolescent lass was dark, overly dramatic, and belabored, featured mostly uptight white dudes trying to not sell chocolate or fail out of prep school or get their asses pulped by the Socs, and was full of the taunting.
Oh, the taunting!
If you’re into such things, you should check out Ulises Farinas’ website and unleash hell upon your retinas. Makes me wish I had one of those gigantic Mission Control-style monitors so I could better pick out what I think may be a homeless Shrek.
You amemba GLOW don’t you? It was a big-haired, bad-permed all-girl army of spandexy wrestling aerobic ladypersons, ruled by Jackie Stallone. Yes, that Jackie Stallone, rumpologist to the stars.
Anyglitter, GLOW brought some glamma to wrestling. Or, rasslin’, as we say where I’m from. I donated a measly few bucks to the movie’s Kickstarter campaign and I’ll get a preview of the movie in digital form before it’s released. That, or a couple of those dyed pink Easter chicks sporting fauxhawks that I always wanted, I was unclear.
This is a test post. Trying to blog from work, where I’m workin’ for The Man. And eating apple cake made from the tears of angels.
So clearly I’m just easing back into this here regular blogging thing like an old man gettting into a bathtub. In lieu of an actual well thought-out post, I’m just including a link to my new totes fave blog by Agent Lover.
Dr. Ding loves Agent Lover’s unabashed love of all things 1990s- and Lifetime: TV For Women-related. And she makes tiny hats, kinda like the ones worn by Damon Wayans when he and David Alan Grier in “Men On Film” on Living Color. Oh yes. Around the world and backsnap!