Magic Jewball

Man, I’d be nervous if I were a famous person this Summer. Scary! But for the second time in the space of two months, a celebrity death has really affected me. I think it’s because I knew John Hughes in two ways. When I was a teenager, John Hughes’ movies meant everything to me. For one thing, because the guy just got me and people my age in a way none of the other movies did. This was the way people I knew dressed and talked and felt. Molly Ringwald was meant to be Everygirl and you felt she was you. Well, you felt she was you in some fantasy, which was even better. In the teen novels I read, the protagonist was always pretty but didn’t know it. You found out because someone said it to her, “you’re so lovely!” and not because she looked in the mirror and thought so. So, you know, it could be you. Maybe you were beautiful but just somehow hadn’t realized it. I think it was the same with Molly Ringwald. She was pretty but not conventionally and she was worried about her appearance just like you were. Maybe when you dressed a bit differently and mooned over the unattainable hot guy, you really were more attractive than you supposed. And it was OK that you didn’t really fit in, that you wanted to be like everyone else but also not, because Molly was the same way, and she was just as angst-filled and confused about it as you were, but somehow, she always ended up better than all right.

Sixteen Candles, my favorite Hughes movie, is a genius mix of ordinary teenage life mixed in with utter fantasy. It’s done in such a skillful way that you didn’t look at it as fake, but rather, what might happen to you if the earth had turned slightly differently. It was you, all right, in your quirky and less-than-popular way, but the sort of things you dreamed of actually came true. I remember thinking, “this would never happen,” but not in a snarky way, rather in a, “but it seems so real – how fantastic!” way. As you might imagine, I was pretty cynical back then too, but I never sneered at these films; the details were too right to be faux.

But the best part of John Hughes movies was the music. People now like to remember this as “80’s music” but it wasn’t, at least in this country. I chose a random week in 1984, the year Sixteen Candles came out, and the top 10 singles were from Stevie Wonder, Prince, The Cars, Chicago, Madonna, Billy Ocean, John Waite, Bruce Springsteen, Sheila E., and Cyndi Lauper. The Sixteen Candles soundtrack had Oingo Boingo, Altered Images, Nick Heyward, and the Thompson Twins. Pretty in Pink had OMD, New Order, Belouis Some, Nik Kershaw, Echo & the Bunnymen, and the Smiths. Some Kind of Wonderful had Pete Shelley, the Jesus and Mary Chain, and Flesh For Lulu. The Breakfast Club famously got people in the United States to realize that Simple Minds existed. These were not artists you heard on mainstream stations, this was my music. And John Hughes made it the soundtrack to his teens’ lives, just as it was to mine. Like Molly Ringwald in his movies, for one moment, my weird music made good and was listened to by the cool kids, and it astounded me. I think this is what really made me give my heart to him forever.

That would have been the end of the post had I not one day gotten to meet John Hughes and tell him this myself. Because this guy did love music and ended up starting a label which at one point, my last label distributed. I was a peon at the time and saw lots of famous people go in and out of my boss’ office. I didn’t often get to formally introduce myself. But it was John freaking Hughes, so I did a rare thing and begged my boss to introduce me. Now, I have met a lot of famous people and I’m not bragging. Because when I say I met them, it was just that. “Hi, I’m Becca, nice to meet you, Robert Plant.” Handshake. And that’s it. Sometimes I say, “I love your record.” But it would be a stretch to say that any of these are “conversations.” They are mostly useful to look back at and say, “I met so and so! I shook his hand and looked into his eyes!”

Aside from artists I was actually working with, John Hughes is the only famous person I can honestly say I had a conversation with. I told him how much his movies had meant to me and how I had loved the music. He stood with me in my sad cubicle and discussed various things about his films and why he had chosen the artists he had. I barely remember what was said. What I do remember was how he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, gave thoughtful answers, and was happy that his work had had such an impact on me. Really one of the nicest people I have ever met. in fact, I still work with the boss I had back then and when I told him that Hughes had died, he immediately said, “he was the nicest guy on earth.” So true.

But the one thing I will never forget about that encounter is how as he walked away down the hall to meet with another executive, he pointed at my sweater (I just happened to wear this one – you cannot script these things!), smiled, and said “pretty in pink!”

I always knew John Hughes thought I was pretty.

RIP.

Title comes from the soundtrack song with which I identified the most. It’s from Pretty in Pink.

OK, you know what? People on movie sets who tell you to move along because there’s nothing to see here are LIARS. L.I.A.R.S. I will now no longer believe them, even when I am prone to move along anyway. That’s what happened last week when I popped into Whole Foods to buy a Perfect Orange for the Failcake. I wanted something lovely and organic because the peel was going in too and I was willing to pay good money, which as you know, you’re totally going to when you go to Whole Foods.

But outside the Time Warner Center where the WF is housed, there was a giant crowd, even though it was like 9pm (I work and shop late) and huge lights, one of them in the shape of a tootsie roll, I kid you not, that was being raised and lowered from some sort of tractor-ish truck. If you have worked till 8:30 and are then going grocery shopping before going home to bake a cake, the last thing you want is to be caught in a crowd of tourists gawking at a movie set where apparently nothing is happening.

So I went down and got my orange and a few other things and came back up to leave and go home. As I was walking out, I did stop to look and try to see if at least there was someone famous so I could say I had seen someone famous. As if on cue, someone from behind the cordoned off area, many rows of crowd in front of me said authoritatively, “nothing to see here! No one famous!” Well that was a relief. Phew! Nothing to miss, and I went on home and made my cake. And then another cake the next day, but you knew that.

Then, the next day, I happened to be reading Gawker when I saw this picture and I knew knew knew that this was the set in front of the Time Warner Center, lit by a giant tubular light. Nobody famous! Why, this was the exactly the same famous person I blogged about in my first “I passed a movie set” post! Hugh Grant! That was from Music & Lyrics and actually, my block was cut out of that one, alas. This one is called Did You Hear About the Morgans? and has Sarah Jessica Parker (also pictured on Gawker) but I doubt I’ll be seeing it. They lied to me, sheesh.

***SPOILER ALERT***
By the way, I finally saw the Sex & the City movie and was relieved they rectified that whole “Samantha ends up with a man just like everybody else, completely going against her whole personality” plotline. Phew. But Stanford and Anthony was just not believable. Sorry!

Rollins Band – Liar

You may not have noticed this but there are some sports that I cannot fathom and am not a fan of and are thus never mentioned here. I know, it’s hard to tell since you get way too much tennis, baseball, and sometimes even hockey. By the way, I have nothing against basketball but have you seen the Knicks lately? Ye gods and little fishes.

So I was just sitting here waiting for some football game to end so I could watch 60 Minutes, when I finally gave up and switched to one of my favorite movies of all time, Coming to America. (Brother2 and I can quote this movie to each other all day – it’s kind of stunning for two white Jews, really). And then came this conversation between Akeem, fresh from Africa, and his boss Mr. McDowell, whom he is trying to impress in American style.

Akeem: Sir, I was wondering, did you happen to catch the professional football contest on television last night?

McDowell: No, I didn’t.

Akeem: Oh, it was most exhilarating. The Giants of New York took on the Packers of Green Bay, and in the end, the Giants triumphed by kicking an oblong ball made of pigskin through a big H. It was a most gripping victory.

McDowell: Son, I’m just gonna tell you this one time.

Akeem (eagerly): Yes, sir?

McDowell: You want to keep working here, stay off the drugs.

That pretty much sums it up for me, yes. Is the game over yet?

Shiny Toy Guns – Waiting

As every blogger knows, it isn’t easy coming up with something to write about when there’s nothing much going on. For me, the reasons for this have been twofold. First, I’ve been under the weather the past week or so, necessitating my rigorous schedule of home/work/collapse/work. Second, in the midst of this, I’m preparing for yet another houseguest! You may not know my friend Dahnuh from Sacotomatoes but that’s because she hasn’t blessed me with a comment in about a year. But that’s OK, I know from non-blogging activities that she’s still alive and since I dumped myself on her doorstep a couple of years ago in suburban NorCal (she calls it Cowpooville and I couldn’t really disagree), I figured it was only fair. Plus I get to have her bring me chicken soup and entertain me. How timely!

Anyway, pretty much all I’ve done lately is read blogs and watch movies, often at the same time, often while drinking tea and eating butter biscuits. Those aren’t strictly medicinal but they have their own kind of magic. So, rather than pretend to talk about fun things that aren’t happening to me just now, I figured I’d show you some scenes from the movies. I can’t do movie reviews as well as my friends Maureen and TJ, so I won’t really go in that direction. Except to say, this movie was fab and kept me on the edge of my seat and was sociological and dark but also funny and cool. Sadly, I couldn’t read blogs while I was watching it as I had to keep my eyes on the subtitles. It’s called La Haine (Hate) and is about those riots they had in France a couple of years ago. You know, the ones that made us feel all smug because maybe we didn’t have the worst racial problems ever.

I won’t present you with the darker parts, but here are a couple of lighter scenes. I loved this one, particularly because I’ve been so lazy about getting a haircut that my hair’s pretty much down to my ass right now. The set-up is that one guy has given the other a rather fucked up haircut. Look, we’re the style nexus of the universe!

Wow, the projects in Paris are just as ugly as the ones here. In other similarities, the subway. I think this is my favorite scene.

I learned lots of new translations, like that Astérix was really Snoopy. Gosh, have I been misinformed. Anyhoo, I also got in some tennis watching and I’d like to inform everyone that at least one sportsman in my life has not let me down. David Nalbandian won his first Masters Series Event, beating Roger Federer in the final, and also beating the #2 and #3 in the world to get there. I’m excited to announce he’ll soon be interviewing for the Yankees coaching job.

But I’m not seeing it! Oh the humanity! I just have a full weekend already. But maybe that’s good. The theaters will probably be chock-full of crazy Simpsons fans. Like me. Ew, I hate those people. Maybe next week. Anyway, only five people will get the joke in this cartoon but I gotta put it up there so that those five people will laugh and laugh like me. Explanation that will kill the whole joke for the rest of you below.

See, cholent is this Jewish stew that is often served on the sabbath because you can’t cook and cholent starts cooking before the sabbath (it can go for like 18 hours without being ruined, don’t ask me how I know). My mother had a big orange Le Creuset dutch oven that was always used but nowadays people mostly use crockpots. And kiddush is the little refreshment part after the service on Saturdays where you hang out for a bit to pick up chicks chat with your friends and neighbors. I know this will shock everyone but with a multitude of synagogues to choose from, some people will actually pick their place of worship based on who has the tastiest kiddush. So, synagogues try to outdo each other making their spreads as superior as possible. The crème de la crème (well, no crème is involved) is the hot cholent kiddush. Because let’s face it, if you’ve got two places in walking distance and one is serving stale Entenmann’s slices and the other one’s got a hot beef stew, I mean, come on. Potato and noodle kugels are usually involved too. Mmmm, kugellll……

Actually, a few weeks ago, I went to my cousin’s synagogue (her husband reads Torah there so she pretty much has to go to that one) and something went wrong and the cholent was cold. She begged me to come back saying, “this is the first time! it’s always hot! pleeeease?????” They really need a sign out front, that’s all I’m saying.

I told you my explanation would kill the joke. This cartoon actually came from bangitout, a site that annoys me to no end, so much so that I’m not going to even link to them here. Instead I’m going to give the hat tip to Brother2 who sent it to me and has a cholent recipe so good that it’s been published in a cookbook.

Danny Elfman, Sally & Susan Stevens – The Simpsons Theme