Forget it Jake, it's a Snow Fort

One of the things I miss most about living in Michigan is snow. Not driving in it, or shoveling it, but just watching it fall or playing in it. If there's one thing movies somehow manage to capture well, even when they completely manufacture it, is the beauty of falling snow. George Bailey running through the snow yelling Merry Christmas, the doors opening to reveal that first snow fall in White Christmas, the snow in A Christmas Story. All of it paints the perfect picture of a winter wonderland where an angel gets its wings or you get that bb gun you always wanted for Christmas.

But this isn't a story about the magic of falling snow, or a story about Christmas. This is a story about trying to build a snow fort and having my nose sliced open by a shovel.

After a particularly heavy and wonderful snowfall one year, around age 7 or 8, my brother carved out a chunk of our backyard into a militaresque snow nest. He and his friends made a wall of snow next to the sidewalk from our back porch which butted up against the fence, with the gate as a back wall. It was a great base, and my friends and I loved to play in it, trying to perfect it further.

I'm not sure what we were trying to do, but it involved shovels. We were trying to scoop up/scrape up additional snow, either to make snowballs or add to the wall. I was kneeling down in the snow, scooping at the frozen snow. Meanwhile my friend was pushing the shovel into the snow, also trying to scoop up snow. He had worked his way towards me, and was moving to swing the shovel upward. Sadly, I was tilting my head and body forward at the same time.

My nose and the shovel's metal edge connected quickly and we both pulled away quickly. I remember it hurting a little, and my friends were all shocked. But there was nothing immediately wrong. Until I checked how my nose was doing. I lifted my mittened hand up to my nose, held it for a moment, then looked at it. A small line of blood was visible.

"OHMYGOD I HAVE TO GO INSIDE!" I cried. "EVERYBODY HAS TO GO HOME!" I tore inside crying for my mom while my friends filed out of the backyard through the gate.

Mom looked closely at my nose. She never told me at the time since I was and am a bit of a hypochondriac, but there was a definite cut running up the left side of my nose. This was going to require a hospital visit.

And here's where the most bizarre movie reference my mom has ever made occurred. Little backstory first though:

At the time this all happened, I loved the movie Aladdin and the Genie was my favorite character. I loved all the voices and characters the Genie did. One of my favorites happened to be the Genie's impression of Jack Nicholson.

Check the clip below at :13



I used to run around doing that impression in my best Robin Williams doing Jack Nicholson voice that I could muster, being a 7 year old girl. My mom thought it was adorable.

So when we were driving to the hospital, I was feeling pretty down about having a hurt nose. It wasn't fun, and it threatened the chances of going to see a show that night with all my friends. So, to cheer me up, my Mom said roughly the following:

"Hey, you know what's kind of funny? You know how you like the Genie and Jack Nicholson? Well, dad's favorite movie is Chinatown, and Jack Nicholson's in it. And he gets his nose whacked just like yours. We'll have to tell your dad about this when we get home."

She of course never told me HOW and WHY Jack Nicholson's nose gets sliced open.

Shovel not shown to scale.

All I need was a little sticky bandage on my nose that I wasn't allowed to get wet for a few days. It would fall off on its own, and my nose would be whole again. No scarring, nothing. You wouldn't even be able to tell it had happened.

I was lucky.

That was easily the fastest ER visit in my lifetime. We were in and out in about a hour. Even the doctor was surprised how fast it was all going. But he bandaged me up and got me on my way. We made it to the show just fine, and for about five days, I had the perfect Jack Nicholson impression.

We did tell my dad about the Jack Nicholson connection, and he nodded to himself, saying, "Huh, I guess so. That is pretty funny."

How to Fix a Bee Sting

My dad has a hilarious ability to swing from over-protective parenting to laissez faire, no big deal parenting, almost on a dime. The same guy who told me to "Never try that" after watching an Ace Ventura commercial where he catches a bullet with his teeth is also the same guy who happily took me to Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back in the theater and sat through it with me.

His approach to emergency medical care left something to be desired though. Every injury was treated with the gentleness of a Civil War era hospital with no anesthesia. Scraped knees from bikes were treated with rubbing alcohol jammed directly on to the wound while you desperately tried to squirm away.

This is all preface to the craziest care he ever administered, but also one of the best memories I have of seeing a movie with him.

My mom was out of town, taking my brother and his friend to an event in Chicago, leaving me with my dad. I remember nothing of that weekend until the day we were supposed to pick them up from the train station. That day, I was outside playing with friends in my neighbor's backyard. While crouched by a wood shed, I felt something crawl on my arm, near my shoulder. I instinctively slapped it and felt whatever it was stop moving. Then, a slow burn started in the area and it really started to hurt. I brushed my shirt sleeve a little more and a huge bumble bee fell out. I started crying from the pain and immediately darted home in terror about the bee sting on my arm.

My dad sat me on the couch, took out his lighter, grabbed a pin from my mom's side table, sterilized the pin with the lighter and went in to remove the stinger. I remember staring at him in slight horror as this was happening, thinking "Wh-What are you going to do with that pin?" He popped the stinger out of my arm, then grabbed a band aid and the phone.

I distinctly remember him calling the doctor's office and basically asking "How can I tell if she's allergic?" It's humorous in retrospect, but to be completely fair to my dad I had never been stung by a bee before, so we had no idea if I was allergic or not. He nodded a few times and asked, "How's your breathing?" Being a slight hypochondriac, I took a few melodramatic breaths to make sure I was ok and replied, "Fine." He talked to the doctor a little more and hung up. To ensure absolute safety, I had to elevate my arm on some pillows and sit there with an ice pack for a while. Again, being a little dramatic and a hypochondriac as a kid, each breath I drew was held slightly and carefully checked to ensure that I would be able to do it again in a moment.

I sat on the couch with my arm elevated, breathing overly slowly, and staring straight forward for a while. I don't know where the decision came in to take me to the movies, but it was on the way to the train station, and clearly I needed some cheering up.

The movie of choice was Babe. Little girl+talking farm animals+singing mice=no more bee sting woes. Sure enough, I was totally happy by the end of the movie. I loved every minute of it. The little pig, the puppies, the duck, James Cromwell saying, "That'll do pig." It all washed over me and made me feel like the bee sting had never happened.

You make it all better James Cromwell. You're not unlike my grandpa (at least in this movie).

We picked up my mom, brother and his friend from the station and drove home.

Of course, I got the movie and watched it a million times over. And despite my love for Babe and the adorable sight of piglets every spring at Kensington Metro Park (also see the Hugh Jackman post for further proof), it has not stopped my mad love for bacon.

Man, I love bacon. And my dad.

"I'll never let go!" Ugh, I don't care.

The first opportunity I had to see that juggernaut of film, Titanic, I blew it off to see The Faculty, starring a pre-Daily Show Jon Stewart, then popular Josh Hartnett, pre-Hobbit Elijah Wood, and a bunch of other people.

I was with my cousin, aunt and uncle, I think around the holidays, and we went to the movies. My cousin and I just so weren't into seeing Titanic at the time, but for some reason had to go into the theater for the very beginning. (Were we theater hoping? Possibly, but it was family sanctioned). So we sat through the old-timey footage at the start, then after maybe five minutes bounced to the next theater and watched people stab pens full of homemade crack into other people's eyes (Jon Stewart included!).

Eventually, I did see Titanic all the way through with some friends. I've always been into history, and have developed a special appreciation and interest over the years for late Victorian into Edwardian and post WWI history. Sadly, Titanic was not history heavy, and more love story heavy, despite quite a bit of period detail. But all that got shoved aside in favor of crap like this:

Get lost twerp and make with the history! Back down to steerage with you!
Also, R.I.P. Italian guy on the right there

My mom, also a history nerd, made numerous comments when I'd watch the movie at home about how a variety of things just wouldn't have happened because of the social constrictions of the time period. These included, the romance itself, and all the spitting gags early in the movie. Rose asks Jack to teach her to spit like a man, and they start hawking loogies over the side of the ship. According to my mom, Rose would never have done it because of her upbringing and social standing, no matter how into slumming it she was and it was actually illegal to spit in public like that because of the health problems it led to (TB and other diseases).

But one of the biggest deals about the movie was how sad it made everyone. How everyone cried during it. For the most part, I wasn't completely moved. Oh I cried, just not at the parts everyone else cried at.

The parts that made me cry when I saw it in the theater:

-The Irish guy being shot
-The Italian guy being crushed under the steam stack
-Mr. Andrews, the ship engineer guy, setting the clock as he stood in one of the tilted dining rooms before he died.
-That old couple lying bed together as the water rises around them.

And the biggie:

-The Irish mom in steerage, tucking her kids into bed and telling them about the land of Tir Na nOg. Why was this so sad for me? Well, in Irish mythology, the land of Tir Na Og is the land of the ever youthful, where no one ever gets sick or grows old. I was a little familiar with Tir Na nOg, having read about it and having seen a movie called Into The West, where one of the legends of Tir Na nOg features prominently (great movie, see it!).

She's telling the kids one of the stories and encouraging them to sleep, clearly in hopes that their impending death will be swift and painless. Mind you, at this point, the steerage level has been locked down, and they are essentially trapped in the belly of the Titanic as it goes down, not to mention there's no lifeboats anyway. Oh my God, that part just made me burst into tears. No one else seemed to understand why I sobbed so hard at that part as opposed to anything else, but the combo of injustice and the knowledge of the story made me lose it.

Parts that didn't make me cry:

-Anything involving Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. Sorry. I was unmoved my his frozen corpse and all the "I'll never let go Jack!" stuff.

Just dunk his ass already!

I did overall like the movie at the time though. It was entertaining, had some history, and I got swept up like everyone else. I won't try to rewrite history and pretend I was just too cool and smart for it. I got into the movie, watched it at home, had the soundtrack, the whole nine.

But I was too cool for Leonardo DiCaprio. And I hate that no one believed me no matter how much I explained that while I enjoyed the film, the overall story of the ship and the other people as well as the clothes and history were what kept me coming back. "Sure, sure. It's okay if you have a crush on him," said every adult I would ever talk to about the movie with a smug smile.

Speaking of fashion, I went as Rose from Titanic for Halloween that year. My awesome mom bought the pattern for the dress she wears during the sinking and made it for me (with similar colors and everything). Sadly, I ruined the dress by leaning against something in the lunch room that left a big black smudge dead center in the front.

Truly, the internet never fails to amaze me because this is the exact picture on the front of the McCall's pattern my mom used to make the dress. She made the one on the right for me. I was just trying to find some stills of the doomed characters I cared about, but this is a pretty sweet consolation prize.

I also fell on my ass walking into school because the shoes I wore to go with it had crap traction. So Halloween day I roll in feeling cool, looking good and BAM! Fall right on my ass in front of everyone in the morning holding area. I recovered quickly and went to a back corner. I don't think too many people saw me, and that's how I'm going to keep that memory.

I'd like to add that I would wear the shit out of that blue dress she wears on the prow of the boat there with DiCraprio.

I would look awesome in this dress.

I definitely dug the music at the time too. Not so much the "My Heart Will Go On" song, but the actual score. I was way into that. I tried to learn the main theme on my clarinet. Also, does anyone remember when they'd play "My Heart Will Go On" on the radio and they'd play dialouge during the musical bridge? That was hilarious. It also drove my dad nuts.

Titanic also yielded a fair share of jokes too. Anytime a foggy window was around, someone would inevitably slap their hand on it and drag it down like they did when they were having sex in that car. I tended to get yelled at for doing it though, since it was going to "mess up the window" with fingerprints. Not to mention everyone yelling "ICEBERG, ROIGHT AHEAD!" at any point where it felt appropriate, even if it wasn't.

If I'm bored and it's on, I'll still watch Titanic. It's not a particular favorite, but it's kind of fun to watch every now and then. Unfortunately, I only seem to catch the last third when the ship is sinking, and never the earlier parts I enjoy more. But that's what happens when you watch it on cable, specifically TNT.

What the hell is Wolverine doing in my hometown?

I live in Hollywood and have had a decent amount of celebrity sightings here and there. But I don't see them that often because I'm not typically in areas where we would cross paths, and I'm also not on a permanent look out for them. I maintain that if I was in line for a sandwich and Johnny Depp or someone was near me, I'd be too busy to notice.

Johnny Depp: Excuse me, are you done ordering?
Me: In a minute, they put tomatoes on my order when I specifically asked them NOT to. Ugh, can you believe it? Hmm, he looks familiar. Oh well.

But there is one thing I certainly would notice. This man:

Humina humina, humina! Awoogah! Awoogah!

In this place:

That's a great deal on Vidalia Onions!

The place? A local grocery store called Colasanti's in my hometown (which I recommend). That's right. I moved all the way across the country and missed my chance to see Hugh Jackman in a store that is literally ten minutes away from the house I grew up in.

Not. Fair.

When my friend from back home mentioned it on Facebook, I had to ask if he was serious. But apparently, Hugh Jackman is filming something in a nearby town, and he stopped in to get some groceries (I'd also recommend the bread Mr. Jackman).

I cannot wrap my head around this image though. I cannot picture Hugh Jackman in that grocery store, let alone in my hometown. And on top of that, I cannot think what on earth he'd do for entertainment in hometown. Because there's not a whole lot to do. What's he going to do? Visit the Kensington Metro Park and do some hiking or visit the farm (if he's lucky, there'll be piglets!)? Canoe? Bowl? Play hide and seek at Walmart or Meijer with friends (something I've never done, but friends of mine have. I've been bored, but I've never been that bored)?

The mind boggles.

And I still don't regret moving out of my hometown. Hugh Jackman sighting or no.

The Wolverine in his natural habitat.

This Song is Going to Be Stuck In Your Head

Oh you pretty Chitty Bang Bang,
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
We love you.
And, in
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
What we'll do.
Near, far, in our motor car Oh what a happy time we'll spend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.
Bang Bang Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Our fine four fendered friend.....

That's right. A classic to most, utterly despised at first by me.

It stems back to the second grade. The elementary school I went to offered a "year round" program, that took more breaks and had a school year that went past the traditional year. It was a great program, I had some awesome teachers and we did a lot of cool stuff.

As a result of going to school in the summer, it was sometimes deemed to hot to run around outside at recess and the lunch room would be closed as well (it could get toasty in Michigan and our school didn't have air conditioning because most classes didn't need it). So we'd eat lunch in our classroom and occasionally watch a movie.

On one of those days, it came down to a vote between something awesome (possibly The Lion King or Aladdin) and what Megan brought in. Megan brought in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. And just about everyone voted for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

I had never seen the movie or heard of it before that day. Being cranky from the heat and losing the chance to watch The Lion King or Aladdin (in school! That's awesome!), I was already slightly predisposed to not wanting to like it.

I don't remember much of the beginning of the movie, but nearly the nano-second the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang song started, I snapped. I didn't act out or anything, but I could just barely suppress how annoying I found the movie and the song. I remember nothing else from the viewing, let alone if we finished it, and I was happy about it. Screw that movie, I thought in my tiny brain. Screw Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Rarely has a movie ever put so much rage in me.

Nearly twenty years later, I moved across the country to work in Hollywood. Luckily, I have family that lives out here and I was able to crash with them for free for a bit. That family includes a young cousin, who at the time I initially moved out there, happened to love a certain movie that had been the bane of a single day in my childhood: Chitty Chitty freakin' Bang Bang.

But I'm an adult. I'm not going to deny my sweet little cousin one of her favorites, and I barely remembered a thing about the movie anyway, so I decided to watch it with her one time.

Either we didn't finish the movie that week in class, or I blocked the entire thing from my memory because the movie I watched was almost nothing like what I remembered.

Sure I remembered the beginning (sort of):

At this point in the movie, I'm neutral, it's about as innocuous as I expected. But then things get weeeeeeird.

Like, Child Catcher Weird:

What the hell?

Yeah, I definitely would have remembered that if I had seen it. But it gets weirder from there:

Now you're just screwing with me movie!

After a few more viewings, I came around to the movie because it was more bizarre than I could have ever expected and I loved how freaking weird it is. It came as no surprise when I learned that Roald Dahl had written the script, since he specializes in terrorizing kids with awesomely weird stories (I love his work).

So while it's not my favorite, the rage I felt as a seven year old has subsided significantly to mere befuddlement at how strange the movie actually is. Apart from a slight dislike of Dick Van Dyke (no specific reason, I just never liked him much as a kid or now), I quite enjoy the movie actually.

The song's still in your head, isn't it?

Deadbeat Parenting

I am a deadbeat parent. Somewhere in the North Atlantic, there is an Orca whale in J-pod wondering where it's adoptive human parent is and why she hasn't sent in any salmon for years now.

My criminal parenting started not long after seeing Free Willy. I loooooved Free Willy. I practically became an environmentalist after I saw it (along with being a paleontologist, since Jurassic Park came out the same year). I think I saw it in the theater, but I know I definitely saw it at home. Because at the end of the credits, they had a phone number you could call to donate money and adopt a whale.

"Mom? Dad? Can I adopt one of those whales?!"

Sure, they said. Sometime later, my whale paperwork came in. I had a photo of the back of some Orca from the J-Pod, all sorts of Save the Whales paperwork, and a nifty certificate basically saying the whale was "mine."

Awesome! I thought. I set the paperwork on my overcrowded desk and went on my merry way.

I NEVER saw that paperwork again. And I mean NEVER. Somewhere in the shuffle of cleaning, school paperwork and the passage of time, that folder of J-Pod paperwork disappeared.

Probably a year or two later, the whale paperwork suddenly popped into my brain. I frantically tore through everything in my room trying to find it, but it was to no avail. I was pretty sad about it. What would become of my whale? Was I supposed to follow up on it in any way? I have no idea because I am a negligent whale parent.

Why? Why did you abandon me?
I was 7 and I lost the paperwork! I'm sorry!

Why I remember that the whale is from the J-Pod, I'll never know. But as you might have guessed from this blog, my brain holds on to some pretty random information.

Welcome to Earth!

In light of the holiday that just passed (and the fact that they seem to play it a lot on A&E for no discernible reason), I'd like to discuss that American classic, that most patriotic of films:

Independence Day

I saw Independence Day with my parents the summer it came out. And it was awesome. So awesome.

Seeing the movie was "a heart-pounding thrill ride" (something I'm sure it said on the poster or a review somewhere).

It was funny. "Welcome to Earth!"

It was scary. The alien autopsy scene scared the life out of me.

It was patriotic. That speech by President Bill Pullman was the best. I was ready to fly a fighter jet and I was only 10.

And America won the day in the end. The aliens were defeated through the power of Morse code and Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith being cool.

Around this same time, my dad was moving to Washington D.C. and we were maybe at some point going to move with him (didn't end up happening, but that's another story). So sometime after seeing the movie, my dad went to D.C. and I missed him a lot. And it brought up a lot of questions about how our life would work and what was going to happen. But it also brought up some weird ones.

I don't know what made me ask this question (maybe the movie was on), but I asked my mom, "If aliens like in Independence Day settled over Washington D.C., would Dad know to get out in time?"

"Yes, of course," replied Mom.

"Would he come back here?"

"Yep."

"Would we be safe if aliens settled over Detroit?"

"Yes, we're far enough from Detroit that we'd be safe."

"Ok, good to know."

It was reassuring that if aliens settled over Detroit, we were well outside the blast zone. Some people have zombie apocalypse plans, I had an alien invasion plan when I was only 10. And what a relief that in the unlikely event aliens settled over D.C., my dad would be safe on the highway before we learned that they do not come in peace.

Nah, he'd be long gone by the time this started happening.