radiumgirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
radiumgirl) wrote2011-02-21 07:40 pm
radiumgirl) wrote2011-02-21 07:40 pm
Wind Beneath My...Wait...WHAT?
Ok. So. When Chrissy and I lived together, we would get drunk and watch movies. It was practically a weekend ritual. Audrey Hepburn and Alfred Hitchcock flicks were favorites. We had a Heath Ledger marathon when he died. And a Brat Pack marathon just because. But inevitably, I would get sloppy and demand that we watch Beaches.
Yeah. I don't know. Chrissy would cave to my demands maybe once a semester, come home from one of her campus ambassador meetings to see me halfway through the movie and a bottle of Chardonnay maybe three times a semester with a "You have a problem" and a "For the love of god, don't start reciting lines."
One of the prompts from the Island of Misfit Prompts is heavily influenced by Beaches and after I posted that list, I decided to watch the "Wind Beneath my Wings" music video because I'm a fail. Then I stumbled across the original theatrical trailer.
Tell me what is wrong with this:
Look. I totally think that Beaches is a feel-good movie in it's own screwed up way, but more than anything else, it's one of those movies that makes you bawl like a bitch. Or, in my case, flop down on Chrissy's lap and blow my nose in her hair while drunkenly telling her I "wuv" her and she's totally my Hilary and if she gets some incurable heart condition I will end her.
"Wait. Why am I the one who dies in the end?"
"Because you're a repressed brunette and I'm a tacky diva with a drinking problem."
"I...hate you a little." But she'd pat my head while she said it, so I knew she was lying.
Yeah. I'm classy. I can't believe that girl willingly shared an address with me for four years and continues to answer my phone calls after the fact.
Anyway, that trailer makes my brain melt. I feel like the women who saw Beaches in theaters in 1988 probably left the theater rubbing their cheeks and looking for welts and wondering if there was, in fact, a god.
Yeah. I don't know. Chrissy would cave to my demands maybe once a semester, come home from one of her campus ambassador meetings to see me halfway through the movie and a bottle of Chardonnay maybe three times a semester with a "You have a problem" and a "For the love of god, don't start reciting lines."
One of the prompts from the Island of Misfit Prompts is heavily influenced by Beaches and after I posted that list, I decided to watch the "Wind Beneath my Wings" music video because I'm a fail. Then I stumbled across the original theatrical trailer.
Tell me what is wrong with this:
Look. I totally think that Beaches is a feel-good movie in it's own screwed up way, but more than anything else, it's one of those movies that makes you bawl like a bitch. Or, in my case, flop down on Chrissy's lap and blow my nose in her hair while drunkenly telling her I "wuv" her and she's totally my Hilary and if she gets some incurable heart condition I will end her.
"Wait. Why am I the one who dies in the end?"
"Because you're a repressed brunette and I'm a tacky diva with a drinking problem."
"I...hate you a little." But she'd pat my head while she said it, so I knew she was lying.
Yeah. I'm classy. I can't believe that girl willingly shared an address with me for four years and continues to answer my phone calls after the fact.
Anyway, that trailer makes my brain melt. I feel like the women who saw Beaches in theaters in 1988 probably left the theater rubbing their cheeks and looking for welts and wondering if there was, in fact, a god.
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