SO, lately I've been watching 80's movies running through Ghost, Working Girl, Dirty Dancing, etc. Before stumbling onto the works of John Hughes (not for the first time, Ferris Bueller's Day Off was one of the movies played in our grade school bus on our grad trip to Ottawa {where I move in less than a month}, and Pretty in Pink was watched a long time ago on the advice of my mother ) which is some sort of irony considering that I recently graduated high school without viewing what is commonly acknowledged as the seminal movie of the high school experience. Earlier in the summer I also watched Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles and that Back to the Future Family Guy spoof and my Father's favourite actor, John Candy in Uncle Buck.
So, for that, as well as the recommendation of my new future college pal who I'll call Blondie who counts it as her favourite movie, and due to the Futurama episode with Fry's eight leaf clover which he hides in his prized copy of The Breakfast Club soundtrack LP, I decided to watch the movie for myself yesterday. For the record dolls, in case someone asks I find myself in retrospect looking back over my high school experience, yeah, I'm a basketcase.
I'm so Allison Reynolds, only not so exagerated (ie I don't have dandruff or growl at people). Funny thing through, he ending up with Andrew the jock, is kind of like Juno saying that all the popular boys secretly want the weird girl. Except, I really do like my boys bad. Like maybe, Bender.
"The funny thing is that Steve Rendazzo secretly wants me. Jocks like him always want freaky girls. Girls with horn-rimmed glasses and vegan footwear and Goth makeup. Girls who, like, play the cello and read McSweeneys and want to be children’s librarians when they grow up. Oh yeah, jocks totally eat that shit up. They just won’t admit it because they’re supposed to be into, like, the perfect cheerleaders, you know? Like Leah, who, incidentally, is into teachers".
I hope that's true. I read McSweeneys and wear bright red Miu Miu cat's eye glasses and give myself winged eyes every morning. I will certainly be a interesting adult.
Anyway, I think I may be the fourth witch of Eastwick. Today I find out that John Hughes, the creator of most of the classic 80's Brat Pack movies died while I was sitting there watching the movie. Really, at the exact same time. I hear the intro essay read by Hayley Mills look-a-like Anthony Michael Hall at the movie's beginning and John Hughes is alive, but by the time the essay is read again with all the kid's voices and the camera freezing on Bender as he leaves the school to Don't You (Forget About Me), John Hughes is dead
so, yeah.
I'm creepy. And scared.
Run away from me. You may be next in the line of my unintentional killings.
But if you're like me, you'll stay tuned. I may just be a compulsive liar.
-Starry- Eyed
