Let's start this off with Tim Curry. I can't tell you how many times I remember watching The Worst Witch before trick-or-treating-- and this part in particular has aged past Velveeta to, I don't know, port wine cheese spread ball.
Of course, any instance of Tim Curry singing will always be compared to...
Of course, Rocky Horror means it's time to do the Time Warp again. It's just a jump to the left.
And a trip back in time means the Misfits
Though this little pieces of REM nostalgia has been flitting around as well
I love Halloween. Not only does it happen during my favorite season, it's pretty much whatever you want it to be. Drunken revelry or sweet nostalgia fest, huge celebration or a quiet night with some quality scary movies-- it's all good, and who could find fault with that? Other than your no-fun fundies, anyway. I was Medusa this year (post-modern, anyway)--
Isn't that some scary shit right there? In a world where virtually all costumes for women are sexy/ slutty/ whorey something-or-other, I went to the classical version of the extreme opposite. Come on, it takes balls to choose something that basically says you're fugly and you don't care. Not that you'd really know-- you should be made of stone now. I'm glad I spent some quality time with some of my favorite people back in Pixburgh. My frustrating trip up (a wreck shut down the Turnpike and cost me an hour and a half delay) was countered by a beautiful and mercifully non-dramatic drive back. I obtained Pocky, popcorn, and pomegranates. I drove through a cloudy morning on an empty Parkway West and East while listening to the Ramones. And I was greeted by two very lonely cats at home. Hopefully it'll be enough to see me through the coming week-- it's looking a little rough at the moment.