I nabbed Superbad today for the super-awesome price of $7.99. Score!
So I’m watching it tonight, and one of the scenes shot me back to high school. Jules notes that Seth is never at parties, so she assumed he wasn’t into them, rather than consider the possibility that he wasn’t invited.
Ah, it hit close to home. I remember finding myself at one of the exclusive parties once during my senior year. I was sitting on the floor, chatting with a guy I knew. He looked at me and asked why I never showed up before. I don’t remember what I told him — whether I told him the truth, or whether I changed the subject. It’s just that question that sticks in my mind.
Before it, it never occurred to me that someone would wonder why I wasn’t there, or assume that it was my own disinterest. It made my head wild with the thought of assumptions. How much of high school would be different without assumptions. Or, were assumptions just excuses to avoid the truth?
Whatever the case, I didn’t get my awesome Superbad ending. If reincarnation is real, God best put on his best Apatow writing cap and get me many, many happy endings for my next time at bat.
Want to go visit garbage island? There’s nothing like a relaxing trip along the blue ocean seas, checking out all the plastic remnants glimmering in the sunlight.
Most of us don’t do enough for the environment, but what really gets me is how many little things we could all do to make it a teeny bit better. Some go on about how we should have 1-minute showers, never use this, never do that… But just imagine how much better things would be if everyone just did the minimum.
People throw out the plastic containers they buy food in, rather than reusing them. They grab plastic bags rather than invest in a few canvas ones (which are so much easier to carry). They’ll throw things out with a shrug, rather than thinking of recycling it. Mall trash cans are full of lots of recyclable material that just gets dumped. Tiny portions of products, housed in plastic, are bought over and over rather than picking up one bigger one. Delivery addicts will throw out Styrofoam by the boatload. Stores will put out mushrooms, herbs, veggies, meats, and other foods packaged in plastic AND Styrofoam.
Is our laziness that great that we can’t even fix the little things above? I guess so, and that’s sad.
Many pieces of media leave their footprint on your memory — some for the achievements they make, some for what they inspire within you, and some for reasons not at all connected to the media itself. There are times when the hint of a song will bring to mind a person and a feeling. There are times when a scene just embodies who I was during a period of time long passed. There are times when media will remind you of the scenario and person you experienced it with.
When “Life of Brian” popped onto my television screen, I was immediately shot back to November 1994. For those sadly out of the know, this is an episode from My So-Called Life — the one where Brian Krakow gets to deliver the voiceover, and everyone is getting ready for a big dance.
I was in a hotel room at the time, with a friend of mine, desperately in need for my MSCL fix. I’d had the worst high school day on record, and then set off to look at a college with my family. We watched the episode and it washed away some of the aggravation. Yeah, Brian was a spastic, dumb, lust-filled teen. Rayanne was, well, Rayanne. Angela had her regular craziness with Jordan. But Ricky… He got his perfect school dance moment.
It was silly, but sweet, and it gave me hope. Sure, that hope was dashed with the rest of my senior year, but it still gave me a little hope in people, and that no matter what crap you’re dealing with today, what monotony might be dragging you down, or people, there will, at some point, be one of those perfect moments to help wash away the memory of the bad.
I watched it there, with my friend, and thought of my luck not in the crappy week that led to this night, but in that singular moment with my friend. Every time I watch that final scene, I can almost feel her with me, even though I haven’t seen her in over a decade, and she’s on the other side of the world.
N, I still keep my eye out for you, and am so very proud of all that you have accomplished, you superstar.
To the rest of you: when was the last time some media transported you back to another time, and another life?
Had I not seen a Gilmore Girls episode in the last few years that had Lorelai giving a bunch of young girls old-school, slumber party makeovers, I’d feel like I was completely out of touch with reality, and the biggest grandma in grandmadom. Or, that the world had finally gone batshit insane.
Now the article goes on to discuss manicures, zits, and the like, but forget about that. Some girls are just getting to do what I tried to do with Wet and Wild. (Oh, for love of $.99 cosmetics!) Anyway…
I can’t even begin to list all of the ways that these women should be beaten, and all the ways that they’re injuring their daughters — and not just physically. I would be horrified if my mom sent me off to a stranger to wax me now, let alone when I was only in second or third grade — and privates no less! Not to mention the emotional scarring, the impending, overwhelming obsession with a body that will never be there, no matter how much botchulism is injected, or hairs ripped out. There is just nothing positive about this practice.
However, to be fair: When I was a kid, I was truly pissed when I started growing hair. It sucks. But hey, it’s a part of a woman’s life — just like periods, boobs, and all that other crappy stuff. We need to learn to deal with it, and how to become comfortable enough in our own bodies that we can handle what life throws at us. I foresee a future of stiff girls who fall over when life throws them something, rather than them catching it, and chucking it back. The next thing you know, young girls will get the pill daily just to ward off the crimson wave. (I am having flashbacks to the most recent SNL now…)
This is just what the world needs — more Paris Hiltons of the world who have no hair, and say that girls don’t fart. You rich, idiotic women out there, you should be ashamed of yourselves.
I think there should be a new cause in the world — getting people dictionaries!
THIS was cited as an example of pornographic media in Ann Arbor.
When the story about being happy as you are is pornographic because it’s about breasts?
The rampant fear over the female anatomy is not only mind-boggling, but really embarrassing for the human race.
In a side note: Funny, I had no idea that today was Good People Day when I wrote about the paper plates yesterday. Check out Slackmistress for more deets.