Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Jake Ryan

Having grown up on the North Shore of Chicago, I became very familiar with the prolific work of John Hughes, local filmmaker extraordinaire, most obviously because the movies were passed on like osmosis through the sticky summer Winnetka air and perhaps even through the womb. Regardless of method, the words to all of his movies are etched as if in stone into my memory. Many a summer afternoon was spent with friends in the freezing basement of my house, sucking on popsicles, soaking wet from the pool (may it rest in peace) and endlessly watching 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' or 'Mr. Mom' or 'Pretty in Pink.' To this day, along with my sister, we could act out 'Ferris' in a two-women show. Verbatim.

Of course, my very favorite Hughes movie was 'Sixteen Candles' mostly because I longed for the day that I could drive too and more because I was obsessed with Jake Ryan. He was my first movie crush...and fess up, gals. I know I am not alone out there.
Anyhoo...anyone who loved Jake Ryan and/or Sixteen Candles should vividly remember The Thompson Twins song that overpowered the final scene with Sam and Jake sitting on the table celebrating (at last) her sweetest of birthdays, If You Were Here.

Now, I'm pretty certain nothing could trump the holiness of that scene, the perfectness of that song and the candles and the dress...Ah! It was brilliant. But, I have stumbled upon a new version by shaggy Cary Brothers (he of Blue Eyes fame) that is quite delish. I recommend a quick hop over to iTunes to check it out. It will bring you right back to my freezing basement and I swear you will taste the sticky popsicles.

Monday, June 04, 2007

Skip Heads Back

...to blond, that is. I was so over being the smartest chicky in Cambridge, especially since all those morons from Harvard and MIT have left town for the summer, that I had to go back to blond. It was a painful procedure and is still in progress, but I feel so much lighter...so much more airy. Hmmm...

Friday, June 01, 2007


Really. I am speechless. How can I describe today's visit to Mecca (a.k.a. the Edward Gorey House in Yarmouth, MA) to my darling readers? Peculiar? Oddly refulgent and glittering? Unearthly? Morbid (Edward Gorey collected spooky antique pliars)? Amazing?