Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Smells Like Petite Brunettes...

 photo friwop_zpscknhkhd8.jpg
Sufficiently holi-dazed, I present to you,  your annual bird from yours cruelly.
Thanksgiving naturally brings back a lot of family memories for someone as middle (r)aged as I. After the Macy's parade, to which I was never all that stoked about, to be honest (Manhattan in the winter is twice as cold as Freezemiser's ballbag, I can attest, with brutal wind trapped between skyscrapers and whipping around your face all day long), I'd end up having to yell into the kitchen to tell my mom to stop using the electric carving knife until the commercial break, as it was messing up the signal on the vhs of my Lions game, which would either spark my holiday appetite, like the '78 six sack upset win vs. the Broncos, or ruin it altogether, like the '80 overtime loss to the Bears. I took a bite out of my mother's daybed mattress after that one. Losing sucks, but losing to the Bears eats it. Regardless of how the day went, though, I'd always end it with cult movies, my comfort zone, and thirty-plus years on, it will probably be no different. I'll be back to reviewing flicks for you this weekend. I have to watch a few things that I want to cover here over the next couple of days. Still piecing the first podcast together, too, so expect that first week of December or so. Anyway, here's hoping that, however you spend your holiday, it's a choice one for you. See ya soon...
 photo nuwop_zps83tkdd0s.jpg

No comments:

Connect with Facebook