80s Movies and Me

Last night I had some free time, so I decided to head back to my treasure trove of videos and see if there was one I could watch and then give away to my friend who is always looking for 80s commercials. I came across a tape that started with the 1982 film, "Hanky Panky," starring Gene Wilder and Gilda Radner (the two met on this film and later married. Sadly, Wilder's mother had died of ovarian cancer and he was married to Radner when she died).

The movie was taped off of KTVU, the Fox affiliate in the Bay Area, in June of 1989 - I figured this out because there were Father's Day ads for Ross, some ads had copyright years in the corner, and there was a news update - about the Tienanmen Square protests.

The movie itself was ... okay. It's directed by Sidney Poitier, whom I enjoy as an actor. And Gene Wilder is always fun to watch, and Gilda does a great job with those big eyes of hers. But altogether, it's too violent for me. It's supposed to be a comedy film, but it is more like a weird spy/government/chase/murder film. It's hard to feel sorry for Wilder's character, who gets accidentally involved in a whole conspiracy, because he makes so many mistakes. The film is also difficult to follow - although that might have been partly due to my watching it on such an old medium that the color would sometimes disappear.

It's funny, but not in a way that made me laugh. Maybe because I was watching it by myself. Or maybe because while I appreciate Gene Wilder's humor, it's always been a little intense for me. But it's probably mostly the weird comedy/violence combo that the 80s were so darn fond of. That and helicopters. 80s movies make The Bachelor's use of helicopters look downright responsible. There are two helicopters in "Hanky Panky", along with a by-plane, a gas tanker truck, and Radner's little red convertible.

While I'm sure I can name fifty great 80s films - I wouldn't put this on the list. It's just not my type - it makes me too anxious. I don't mind being kept in suspense if there's a good pay off (like in, say, "Inception") but this film does not give me that at the end. But it brought together Wilder and Rander, so that's nice.

Picnics and Me

I'm always up for a picnic. Combine eating with being outdoors and I'm there. While this is something that I've always been happy to do, I found it was something I really truly enjoyed when I was in Europe for a month seven years ago.

While trying to enjoy the local ambiance, while also not spending too much, my then boyfriend and I would often go to a market and buy a loaf bread, a hunk of cheese, cured meat, whatever fruit they had and some tomatoes, along with a bottle of water and of wine. We ate everywhere - in rowboats, on trains, on museum steps. I preferred it to every restaurant we went to.

Before that, in the spring of 2005, we had visited Italy by itself for his boss' wedding in Capri. We stayed for a week and while there, we dropped in on my best friend who was attending school in Florence for a couple months. We bought essentially the same things we would come to live on that fall in the rest of Europe, and went to her dorm. She pulled the sheets off her bed and we used them as a blanket while sitting in the olive groves just over the hill from her school. It was so amazing, so European, so perfect - until the mosquitos came. But it is one of my fondest memories.

But picnics aren't about where you are, so they're just as wonderful here - as long as the right people are there. From time to time, my boyfriend and I enjoy picnics (the picture above was taken recently at Encino State Park) and it's become a tradition to go on a picnic with his sister and her boyfriend after church on Easter.

I gave up eating mammals about two years ago, so the cured salami and prosciutto of the past has turned into honey roasted turkey or chicken, but that's fine with me. Tomatoes are always a good option - especially grape tomatoes, since you don't have to cut them (kind of a to-do when all you have is a small paper plate and a plastic knife - plus I often forget to bring napkins along).

Living in a LA works out well for me - picnic season lasts from March to October. Couldn't ask for more.

Travel and Me

 I'm not the biggest traveler. Sure, I have Canada, Mexico, Japan and most of Western Europe under my belt, but I haven't been outside the US in seven years. My next out-of-the-country destination is Australia or New Zealand. But I'll have to figure out how to handle a fourteen hour flight since becoming afraid of flying about four years ago. Well, not so much the flying part, but the turbulence part. I hate that.

I do enjoy traveling, though at this point I am bothered by the impact that both air travel and driving make on this planet. Taking trains more often would be great, though it seems it's not quite as simple as having your own car with a bed. Plus I can't take a train to Australia. I'm still waiting for the bullet train to Vegas. Not that I go to Vegas more than once every four years or so, but still, maybe if they built the train they wouldn't need to build an extra airport (honestly, who's heard of building one airport so close to another?).

I just finished a book I picked up at a used book store in Solvang (travelling!) that was called "I Should Have Just Stayed Home." It's a bunch of short stories, true short stories, about nightmare travel situations. Delayed flights, kidnappings by the local authorities, getting sick, getting injured. It's a strange book to read, because it makes one want to both not travel and travel at the same time. It reminds you of all the awful things that can happen when you go to another country, but at least those people are LIVING, you know?

On the other hand, it's not like I've exhausted my options in LA. I've never been to the Tar Pits, Beachwood Canyon or that pier where pelicans think they're people. I have a lot more exploring to do before I leave town to find other adventures ... but, still - Australia. I'm a comin' for ya.

Hats and Me

Hats. I love them. Why - I'm not sure. They're pretty much the best accessory because everyone looks at everyone else's head (generally) and they're big - you usually can't miss them.

When I was very little, like around a year, my parents took me to Coco's. While waiting for the meal, I took the napkin in front of me, and placed it on my head, then began laughing incessantly. It was clear I was making a joke. Look! This thing that isn't a hat is on my head! Get it!

I was just looking through my Facebook profile photos ... and darn if there isn't something on my head in pretty much every other photo. Hats like the one here, which is my Easter/Royal Wedding Hat (there are more Easters than Royal Weddings, but I wore it when I got up at 3AM to watch Kate marry Wills). There are more casual hats, like the big floppy brown one that I love to wear to protect my face and neck from the sun. I used to wear a different, white hat for that, but people thought it was silly, plus the newer brown one is bigger. With hats, bigger = better - most of the time. Because I also love my cloche hat, my pill box hat, and one that is essentially a fascinator. All of them are black with black feathers. Love it.

But it's not just hats. It's also flower wreaths at the Ren Faire, bandannas when out sailing, the ribbons off of presents, and the occasional menu. I dunno, I just like putting things on my head, I guess.

I have also made my own hats. When I was in college, during my last two years, for work study, I worked at a Christian after-school homework house. I was in charge of arts and crafts (for the first year - in the second year they ran out of funds to buy new craft material, so I was in charge of arts and crafts one day to finish the rest of the craft supplies and board games the other day). Anyway, for Mardi Gras one year I had us all make jester hats out of flat foam, tin foil, and bells. I love to wear it on Mardi Gras, except that a friend gave me a very fancy mask a few years back and I find it's difficult to wear a mask with large plumage and a jesters hat. But I make do. Because you all know how much I love Mardi Gras.

Public Transportation and Me

I've talked about this some before, on posts about my relationship with driving and the environment. But more in depth - I'm a public transportation enthusiast. I'm not just okay with using public transportation - I enjoy it.

Most of the time, that is. I don't enjoy it when the Red Line is twenty minutes late and it's a million degrees and humid in the subway and it's nearing midnight and it's just me and some sketchy looking dudes, so I do not want to take off my jacket. I don't enjoy when buses have to travel over incredibly bumpy roads that make me shake so much I can't read the words on my book. I don't enjoy how diffucult it is for the few friends that I have without cars to get around this city.

But I do very much enjoy when a new line opens up. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's pretty exciting. A couple months ago, the Expo Line opened up, travelling above ground from downtown to Culver City. It's current last stop is not that exciting - there's a large parking structure, and a Target a little less than a mile south. In the fall (supposedly) the line will make it out to Robertson and Venice, closer to downtown Culver City. But I can't wait that long, so when the line was less than a week old, my boyfriend and I took the Red Line to 7th Street Station and switched over. They don't have all the bugs out, but since we weren't on a schedule, the glitches were more funny than annoying. After arriving at La Cienega and Jefferson, we walked, in the dark, about a half mile north. There we found a BBQ restaurant I had looked up. It proved to be inexpensive and delicious, just like Yelp said. After dinner, we got some 7Up cake to go, and started the journey back.

Totally worth it. Let's do it again sometime, Expo Line. Only this time, a bit quicker. And without you announcing that the doors are about to close - when they're already closed.

Computers and Me

I don't remember life without computers. I moved to San Jose with my parents at the age of three and as far back as I can remember, my parents both had computers in the home office. My mom worked on an Apple II E and my dad always had some sort of crazy contraption. For awhile, we had a Lisa. I learned to type on my mom's Apple, and eventually got my own computer in my room, to do homework and play games on.

I enjoyed typing more than writing, so I began turning in typed reports much earlier than the other children. My fifth grade state report was typed (I wrote about Connecticut because that's where The Babysitter's Club books took place). We had a computer lab at school, connected to the library. At the beginning of fifth grade, our teacher warned us that we would have to take a test at the end of the year, where we'd have to type a certain amount of words on a keyboard without any letters on it. This terrified my classmates, but I figured it would be no big deal. As it turns out, she was bluffing.

I'm not the fastest typist in the world, mostly because I have a tendency to fix mistakes as I go along instead of editing my work afterward. I tried to break the habit after my dad pointed it out to me in high school, but I didn't really stick to it.

I used my parents computers in middle school, and for some of high school. One night in freshman year, I had to do a report in my current events type class that required a news article. My parents were going out for the evening and I told them that before they left I needed them to go with me to pick up a newspaper. They recommended I just print out an article online. I had futzed around with the Internet before, but only for entertainment purposes (I believe I spent my time on Weird Al's website and Disney's website, both quite fledgling), but this was the first time I had actually found it, well, useful. The Internet and I have been close friends every since.

The video card in my laptop needs replacing. I've never opened up a computer before ... so this should be an interesting adventure. I'll let you know how it goes ... possibly from a computer at the library.