So rather than burden you all with my funk I think I’ll just go have a frozen pizza and watch a few movies. 80s movies. Bad comedies. Maybe some horror flicks. The kinds of movies where big-haired, heavily tarted-up wannabe-actresses show their tits for no reason other than that the script suggests they do so — and because they think the exposure will bring the kind of celluloid fame that my attentions today in fact provide them.
Let no one say I can’t appreciate the small victories.
Ok, but nothing with Drew Barrymore. You know how the ‘dillo gets.
Darryl Hannah shows her tits a lot in the early part of her career. Also, some in the later part of her career. Not so much in the middle, I think.
I still dream of Phoebe Cates
I can’t hear Moving In Stereo without thinking of Phoebe Cates.
Phoebe Cates. Someone read my mind.
If you want bad 80’s comedy, you can’t go wrong with Every Which Way But Loose. Plus, BIG HAIRY TITS!!
Oh, wait, that’s not what you said…
I’d suggest Adrienne Barbeau for the tits, maybe in Escape From New York for the uplifting action. Bridgette Bardot also comes to mind.
Usually five minutes of adding “…in bed” to everything people around me are saying cheers me up. But I’m not as highbrow as you are, boss.
I forgot all about the tits in Slapshot until I decided to watch it with my 11 year old.
I’m cheered by creating new Flickr Galleries of something I find cool, or by paging through the Colour Mania or Glass Art Flickr pools or by gleeping seasonal wallpaper photos to use on my constantly rotating Windows 7 wallpaper.
On account of the visual stimulus you’re looking for doesn’t exactly do it for me.
Retitle: Strother and The Stroker.
Bret Michel’s Rock of Love marathons truly rock.
Jeff, just to make your day worse, we are apparently giving, as in a gift, F-16 fighters to Indonesia. Yes, my friend, as we strip back our own military, we are beefing up that of the Muzzies.
Here in Georgia we call that Sunday. Sure we can buy beer and wine in some places on Sunday, but not the good stuff…
Download Monster High. So awful you’ll laugh if only in disbelief.
Leigh, that’s the same Indonesia we wouldn’t SELL F-18’s to because they wanted to use them to bomb their own population, right? Just checking.
That’s right, Richard. Just in time for Christmas, too.
Darth, adding “in bed” to all fortune cookie “fortunes” has been a standard pastime for almost thirty years now.
McGeehee, fortune favors those who can plan one day ahead.
[…] I think that distinction belongs to Ace, Jeff certainly gives him a run for his money. How about this for an example: So rather than burden you all with my funk I think I’ll just go have a frozen […]
“McGeehee, fortune favors those who can plan one day ahead.” … in bed.
I also had Chic-Fil-A today. In bed.
Bret Michaels makes tasty snapple
One cannot go wrong with the Sacred Trilogy–Animal House, Caddyshack, Blazing Saddles. lesser, but still good flicks, include The Faculty, Chopper Chicks in Zombietown [best lesbian biker gang/zombie mover EVER made!!], and They Live.
Animal House is especially pertinent these days, what with its allegory of how overthrowing the oppressor doesn’t necessarily lead to…
…huh?
<litella> Never mind! </litella>
Might I suggest Laser Mission?
It ‘stars’ a not-dead-yet Brandon Lee alongside a still-not-dead Ernest Borgnine *, doing something vaguely secret-agenty in an unspecified Latin American country. Oh, and there’s some blonde chick with big tits, who serves mostly as a prop — tits apparently make any scene better.
It’s very ’80s. And bad, laughably bad.
—
* A 94-year-old testament to the life-extending properties of chronic masturbation.
One day ahead!? We’ve been planning for the advent of Sunday booze sales for YEARS!
I’ll match your Laser Mission with <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084171/"Jekyll and Hyde …Together Again
It’s a shame Brandon had barely hit the big time when he died. The Crow was pretty frickin’ good compared to his previous movie, which was pretty frickin’ good compared to the one before it. Even given the really awful nature of where his movies started, he was on a sharply upward trajectory.
Really, though: whose bright idea was it to have him playing a Japanese guy next to Dolph Lundgren? I can see having some no-name guy crossing ethnic-national boundaries like that, but this is the son of Bruce Lee we’re talking about, here.
Rapid Fire has a really decent fight scene (for its time, anyway) at the end, pitting Brandon against Al Leong. It’s short, sharp and brutal like few martial artists do on film. Probably still too long to be realistic, but less full of stylistics than e.g. Chuck Norris’ efforts.
It’s not completely devoid of technique-showcasing, but it’s fairly stripped down compared to some other movie scenes we could examine.