A lot has happened out in what is known as real life, but the Omelet should be returning this month. I’m sure Netflix DVD will be glad to get a few discs back…
So I wasn’t back after all. This sorting out of personal stuff is harder than it looks.
I will, however, be back on Friday. And someday my review of The Conjuring will publish. But those are probably going to be two different things.
In the meantime, here’s a mantis who spent an afternoon hanging onto my house.
You wouldn’t think taking my mother to appointments would stop the site in its tracks, would you?
Yeah, I didn’t think so either, but here we are. I guess that hour out of my day is The Blogging Hour and I had no idea until now.
I haven’t forgotten my 1.4 readers, though: Fright Night review is going to happen! Now on Valentine’s Day, because I love it that much, and because I shouldn’t write about how awesome Donald O’Connor is in Singin’ In The Rain two years in a row. See you next month!
While making a list of things to watch during October, I noticed a certain… similarity about my choices. An actor who kept popping up again and again like a bad penny or a relentless supernatural killer.
Then I wondered if I’d have time to watch all this stuff by Halloween.
Then, like a certain other holiday figure, I got a wonderful, awful idea.
This December, I’m going to focus on putting the Chris Sarandon
back in Christmas.
The Sentinel, Fright Night, Child’s Play, The Resurrected and Tales From the Crypt: Bordello of Blood are all coming at you this month. After all, red is a holiday color.
I know, I haven’t been posting on schedule, partly from laziness and partly from a desire to get some movies I haven’t seen into the Friday mix this month (The Conjuring arrives at my house tomorrow and will be written up the minute someone can pull me off the ceiling and stop the whimpering, I assume).
Until then, an anecdote from this century this time: I Am A Prophet, But Not A Very Good One
In 2003, I was still with the guy I refer to as Future Ex-Husband. I was also working on a piece of fanfiction for my own amusement (amazingly, not about Highlander—though I did see a crossover fic once).
I had an original character in this story and was working on her backstory, realizing that people don’t spend seven years only doing [big plot activity]. No, she’d probably dated at least one person, even if it hadn’t worked out. So I invented another character, “Bill,” whose job put him near the action of the story. They’d dated for a couple of years, but she was more interested in her work, and eventually the two of them split up. Bill had brown hair and glasses and presented himself as being more stable than he probably was. A good guy, in other words, who was too flawed to date.
My unfinished story got stuck in a drawer for ten years, the first two of which were spent breaking up with the FEH. A year or so after the separation, I entered what in retrospect was probably the rebound phase and started dating again.
He had brown hair and glasses. He thought of himself as a strong, stable relationship partner, but he could be moody and flaky. And I kid you not, his name was “Will,” one letter off from the fellow in my fanfic. They even worked in the same general field… and I did not notice any of this until I pulled that story out of my desk in 2013, long after it could have done me any good.
That’s right—I predicted my own rebound guy in a silly fanfic and I still went out with him, never once making the connection between Fanfiction Bill and Sitting-Next-To-Me-in-2006 Will.
So take it from me: you’ll probably gain more wisdom by reading other people, but do look over your own drafts once in a while. Your dignity may depend on it.
It finally happened: Thanks to some plotting for October and December (which, surprise!, will look a lot like most people’s October in terms of Friday posts), I’ve kind of cordoned off my possibilities for slow viewing weeks. As a result, I am all out of Friday at the moment.
When TV shows hit this sort of obstacle, they often do a clip show, so I will too.
Apropos Of Our Cynical Omelet: Search Terms And Me
I love reading search-term posts on other sites, but having few readers means it’s taken almost two years to amass enough for one of my own. I also think it might be fun to grade the Omelet in terms of providing service, so let’s see what people have been looking for!
“Hellboy’s heroine”—This was my first-ever search term, and though I’ve since referred to the end of the Hellboy movie, all this person got was a photo of my 2014 Hellboy Halloween costume. I’m so sorry. Grade: D+
“Sean Connery and Carol Sopel”—Apparently these two were married. I didn’t know that before seeing someone look for it, and I can’t imagine the searcher felt edified by my bitching about Highlander and Darby O’Gill. Grade: F
“Highlander absorbance”—This is the search term I’m most proud of; when I first noticed the spelling of “absorbance” on Brenda’s printout in the movie, I couldn’t find any confirmation that it was correct. That was several years ago, however, and the internet is much improved. I’m oddly pleased to be a resource to the three other proofreading Highlander fans out there. Grade: A+
“The Big Easy movie”—I like it for no compelling reason! Grade: A
“Jay Sherman and his sister Margo”—I mentioned the sibling relationship in my Friday post on The Critic, but didn’t really get into it. Margo’s great, though. Grade: B-
“Count Blah”—I used the Count—a Greg the Bunny character veeeeerrrry loosely based on the other famous vampire puppet—as a sight gag in my review of Frankenstein. I should probably do a Found-Again post for Greg the Bunny one of these days. Grade: C
“Kurgan fanfic”—Dude, I have tried: not to write any, but to find some, especially when I was doing the There Can Be Only Monday! posts. After on-and-mostly-off searching since I first saw the movie in the early 2000s, I have found maybe five stories. Highlander’s villain is such a beloved bad guy…by me, for one…but apparently does not inspire people to churn out reams of prose. Grade: does effort count?
A music-flavored anecdote from my youth:
When I was a kid, time in the car with my parents was spent listening to WLTY*, the “lite” radio station that played ’60s, ’70s and ’80s music, with a little ’50s thrown in. (This is probably where I get my lifelong affinity for sappy songs. You will pry my copy of History: America’s Greatest Hits from my cold, dead fingers, if that.)
Sometimes WLTY would play Richie Valens, and Mom would say, “He was so good. It’s a shame there won’t be more music from him.” Valens, of course, was dead.
Sometimes they’d play Jim Croce—actually, often they’d play Jim Croce—and again: “He was so talented. It’s a shame there won’t be any more music.” Jim Croce, as you probably know, is also no longer with us.
Sometimes they’d play “American Pie” or “Vincent” by Don McLean, and my mother would say exactly the same thing…
You can see where this is going, can’t you? To me being the only person struck with eldritch terror upon finding out Don McLean was playing Harborfest in 1990, that’s where.
Our house had an open-plan kitchen/living room. I was on the sofa. “Mom?” I called out.
Mom, cooking dinner: “What?”
I cleared my throat meaningfully. “It says here Don McLean’s playing in Norfolk this weekend.”
Nothing. If he weren’t a zombie, wouldn’t she express some interest since she loved his music? Then again, if he were in fact a zombie, she should definitely express some interest. I tried again.
“But isn’t he, you know…”
She did not know.
Thinking a musician from times past is dead is a normal mistake (especially in 2016). That’s the point at which a normal human being would have looked at the news and concluded that they’d misinterpreted what might be called Mom’s Standard Eulogy For Musicians. I’d love to say I have no idea what I was thinking, but I do. I was thinking GHOSTS AT HARBORFEST!, and for some reason couldn’t be deterred from thinking it.
What was even less normal, in retrospect, was the way I not only brought it up but backed gently into the idea, as if I were actually going to find out that Don McLean was a revenant, but only if I asked in just the right way so as not to alarm the ‘rents.
Eventually my mother stopped laughing at me…for this particular incident, anyway.
And I have never, in the intervening decades, been in any doubt as to whether Don McLean is alive or dead. In fact, every time I tell this story I seem to gain yet another person who will personally call me on the phone if and when the sad news ever breaks.
I can’t say I actively recommend the “embarrass yourself horribly” method of remembering whether a given famous person is alive or not, but I do know it works like a charm.
*I see that the WLTY call letters are now used by a station in Cayce, SC. The mystic Edgar Cayce used to live in…the Tidewater area, where I grew up! Coincidence? You bet.
The foolhardy and the bored can now officially navigate through my first 37 Highlander posts—the ones about the original movie— in order via helpful links. In my defense, going back and fixing that was exactly as boring as I thought it would be.
…And Five Hours Later, Her Hair Was Still Wet
Needs More Hot Sauce: The J.A. Story
[age] Years of Not Beating People To Death With a Dictionary (While Making Them Feel As If I Did)
Reading While Walking
Gourmet Cold Cuts, Wine, and Highlander: The Gentle Art of Leisure Time
Cold Hairball Underfoot: The Perils of Getting Out of Bed While Owning Pets
I Love the Buckaroo Banzai Movie More Than You Love Some of Your Relatives
A Lighter Shade of Noir
Writing Mysteries For
Fun Profit Personal Satisfaction Some Damn Reason