Piss On You, I Work For Mel Brooks!

I have had a life long love of Mel Brooks movies. I'm not sure when I first saw a Mel Brooks movie, but it might have been Robin Hood: Men in Tights in the theater with my dad and brother. It sticks out in my mind because I remember asking "What's a chastity belt?" and my dad replying "NOTHING!" as we left the theater.

How dare you take your daughter to this sir!
(Just kidding dad!)

After that, I must have seen Dracula: Dead and Loving It and Spaceballs, all much more kid friendly in their way. (Sidenote: Bill Pullman will always be either Lonestar or the President to me, no matter what he does). I may have started with the newer stuff, but it was seeing the classics when I was a pre-teen/teenager that hooked me into Mel Brooks for life.

One year, for my birthday party, we rented a bunch of movies and I insisted that one of them be Blazing Saddles. I had heard from my next door neighbor that it was amazing, and I thought it would be cool to share it with all my friends at the slumber party.

We had the pizza, the cake, and started the movie marathon with other comedies, and possibly a horror flick. Then, as everyone but me started dozing off, we put in Blazing Saddles. I was almost always the one kid who didn't fall asleep with everyone else (on the flip side, I was the last kid awake in the morning).

The movie started, and I remember laughing almost the entire time. I was so disappointed that no one else was awake with me to share in the incredible hilarity. Of course some of the jokes and references flew over my head, but most of it was just killing me.

"You've got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know... morons"

Mongo punching the horse. Madeline Khan. "Someone's gotta go back and get a shitload of dimes!" "Hey, where all the white women at?" "Give the governor harrumph!" "Excuse me while I whip this out." "That's Hedley." And the list goes on. I could practically do the movie from memory.

I thought my laughter would wake the others up for sure, but everyone was sleeping like logs on the pull out couch. The next morning, when I finally woke up, I had everyone rewatch it with me, and the gang was on board. My best friend and I adore "The French Mistake."

Why is everyone sleeping through this?!

Not too long after that, Halloween rolled around and I was having a get together with friends to watch movies (yes, those are the only kind of parties I know how to throw). My parents, in a surprisingly common co-effort to have me watch certain movies, picked up Young Frankenstein along the way.

"What is this?" I asked

"It's a comedy, you'll like it." I popped it in at the party.

And boy did I. I am still torn between wanting to be Teri Garr or Madeline Khan when I grow up.

Sometimes kids, it pays to listen to your parents.

Frau Blucher. Marty Feldman. Gene Wilder yelling. Abby Normal. "I thought I told you never to interrupt me while I'm WORKING." "'What knockers!' 'Thank you doctor.'" "Oh hello, would you like a roll in ze hay? Roll, roll, roll in ze hay!"

I think this might be my favorite moment in the movie though.



Hell, this one too:



My senior year of high school, I got to take a class that studied literature and film, and one of the final projects was a director study. I wrote a proposal and got to cover Mel Brooks, which meant I got to sit around and watch even more Mel Brooks movies for homework. While watching The Producers in the living room one night, I remember my dad saying, "Doing homework with you is fun!"

In case you're wondering, I got an A even though I played "Springtime for Hitler" in its entirety as the conclusion to my presentation.



It remains a goal of mine to be able to legitimately say "Piss on you, I work for Mel Brooks!" at some point in my life.

It's Just So Sad!

Several of my friends adored Josh Hartnett when we were teenagers. I'm not sure who I was giddy for at the time, but I wasn't a fan. I just didn't get it. Where was the pizzazz, the personality?

Eh, I'm not that excited.

I liked Ben Affleck a little more at the time, so I was willing to check out Pearl Harbor when the posse got together one summer afternoon to head to the movies.

Oh, that Affleck.

I didn't really care for the movie. I had the same problem with Pearl Harbor that I did with Titanic. I was ultimately more interested in what was going on around the main characters than the characters themselves.

However, the silly love triangle between Affleck, Hartnett and Kate Beckinsale resulted in the most incredible overreaction I've ever seen in my life.

To refresh your memory, Kate Beckinsale dates Ben Affleck before the events of Pearl Harbor. She thinks he dies during the attack and seeks solace in the arms of his best friend, Josh Hartnett, and gets pregnant with his baby. Somehow, Affleck comes back, everything is more or less forgiven, they go off on the Doolittle raids in Japan with Alec Baldwin, where Josh Hartnett dies. Affleck returns to Beckinsale with the bad news, and they raise Josh Hartnett's son together as their own.



Right around the 2:30 mark is when my friend completely lost it. She started crying really hard as the image flowed and the credits rolled. (Apologies if the audio is too low, that's how the link came. Plus, do you really want to hear the malarkey that Michael Bay wrote?)

With a huge sob and a sniffle, she exclaimed, "He looks....just....like him!!" We started to leave the theater, but the tears were a-flowing like you wouldn't believe.

We talked her down and she was able to laugh it off, admitting that she probably overreacted. But never before or since have I seen someone burst into tears that badly during a movie (except that time I watched Selena at a slumber party, but that's a whole 'nother post).

Button Mash!

I've never been a very good video game person. I like playing them, but I'm really quite terrible at them. Whenever I played Golden Eye on Nintendo 64 with my neighbors, I would be routinely killed in multi-player because I just couldn't master the whole camera movement vs person movement aspect. I couldn't even beat levels in Zelda and the Ocarina of Time without major assists from a step by step guidebook telling me exactly how to do certain things, and even then I got frustrated and just quit. Maybe the buttons on the controller and I just don't connect.

And, like most kids born in the 80s, I played Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo (my house) and Super Nintendo (my neighbor's house). And like most kids, I came across the Super Mario Brothers movie at some point in my life.

Super Mario Bros is not a good movie. Even Bob Hoskins, respected actor and star of the movie, came out and said it is hands down the worst thing he's ever done.

I'm not sure exactly when I saw this movie, but I know I saw it on cable. Ah, the perks of being a kid with cable and lax parents. You can watch just about anything (Tank Girl anyone?).

I remember being a little confused and a little bored by the whole thing. And also a little scared by Dennis Hopper. He was super creepy in the film, with the weird white-blond sort of corn rows, not to mention the lizard tongue they gave him.

I think, the better question might be, when is Dennis Hopper not creepy and/or scary?

The other thing I remember, and probably the weirdest part, was not the lack of cohesion in the movie, or how terrible it was as a video game adaptation, but the fact that I had a little crush on John Leguizamo.

Yes, this guy.

Now, allow me to explain myself. In the movie, he was young, cute, and he seemed so nice and genuinely concerned about rescuing the girl. To my seven year old brain, I was thinking "Wow, what a nice guy. I really like him. He's so nice!"

He saved the princess!

Overall though, it's still a terrible movie, John Leguizamo crush or no. There is so much weirdness running through the whole movie, from lizard people led by Dennis Hopper to something about fungus taking over the city, that even as a kid, I remember thinking "There's no fungus in the video game, what is this?" It was not, as so many other movies in my childhood were, one that ended up with a lot of repeat viewings.

I think the look on his face here kind of sums up the viewing experience as a whole.

It's Good To Be Back

Well, it's been admittedly way too long since I last posted, but I think it's time I get back in the swing of things.

I'm moving to a new apartment, and as I was packing up my extensive and over flowing DVD collection, I remembered that when I moved to California, I set aside a selection of DVDs that were essentially "comfort" DVDs. They were mostly comedies, a few musicals and the occasional drama or mafia movie that I loved watching and rewatching. They were nice and familiar, and provided an odd sense of stability when it came to moving at least once a year or so, not having a real bed (a mattress on the floor is just not the same), and facing a fair amount of job uncertainity for the better part of living here. The box contained classics like Young Frankenstein, Wayne's World, Goodfellas, Moulin Rogue, and a funky little movie called The Big Tease.

The Big Tease is a faux documentary about Scottish hair dresser Crawford Mackenzie (aka Craig Ferguson, my favorite late night host) who comes to Los Angeles thinking he was invited to compete in a hair cutting competition, is mistaken, and then works his way in to be the champion.

It's very funny, very silly, and I'm not lying when I say it always makes me feel better about living in L.A. Crawford is so optimistic and never stops trying to get his dream that you can't help but feel better and pretty good about your chances.

I mean, look how happy he is!



If he can do it, why can't I? If he can prance in his underwear in a fancy hotel, I can too! Until recently, I had some shaky times here in L.A. where I doubted my chances of making it. But when I'd get home, I'd pop that in the ole lap top and smile.



So if you're down, you're in a new city (L.A. or otherwise), and need a good laugh, I recommend The Big Tease.

I concede that this story may not be especially funny, but it is true. And it's a kick off to more regular updates on my fond memories of movies, tv and otherwise.

Merry Christmas you old bar and brothel!

Like all families, we watched the classics around Christmas time. A Christmas Carol in its various forms (the Muppet and Blackadder versions being my personal favorites). White Christmas, A Christmas Story, and of course It's A Wonderful Life.

It's always a relief to see George Bailey realize his worth and the town rally around him, but I ask you:

Was Pottersville really that bad?

It had a lot more going on in it than Bedford Falls did. Sure, you could raise a family in Bedford Falls, but it was painfully dull. So dull that, until he considered suicide and met that angel, George wanted to do nothing BUT leave town.

My mom used to set up little lighted houses on top of our TV center, but she always avoided buying the licensed It's A Wonderful Life houses because they were, if I recall, too "cutesy." My parents agreed that having a lighted house Pottersville village would be way more fun. Tiny dance halls, casinos, and bars dotting the cotton fabric atop the TV stand. Now that's Christmas.

Because, frankly, Pottersville had it going on.

First of all, check out the neon sign. Way cooler than the wooden Bedford Falls sign.

Woo hoo, loose women!

The House of Dolls looks pretty cool man, I'd go in.

Get over it, George. Not like Mary's dancing there.

She's suffering a fate worse than death. SPINSTERHOOD!!!!!!

Yes, without George, Mary faces the hideous life of being an old maid in a rocking town where broads and goons gather every night to drink, fight, and jitterbug.

I guess, based on how horrified George was by everything and how sad Mary looked, they are happier in Bedford Falls. But I'd rather live in Pottersville.

Boooooooooorrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnng

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.