Oh, and btw, I have nothing to say about Ed McMahon. He was old. He was on Late Night with Johnny Carson and Star Search. Recently, he wore a neck brace and had money troubles. That's really all I got. NEXT!
First of all, when I was a kid I LOVED Michael Jackson. Like, really, honestly loved him & wanted to have his babies and move to Neverland. Little did I know that at age 8 I was already too old for him and (allegedly!) the wrong gender. But, let's put the
The Michael I loved was the Michael from the Jackson Five, the Michael whose "Off The Wall" album was in constant rotation on my portable denim-covered record player. On Saturday mornings when I was really young, I'd slip downstairs super early to catch The Jackson 5 Cartoon. Yes, it existed, and I loved it! Hey, don't judge me. I also watched Hee-Haw, so WTF did I know?
To this day, if I'm at a wedding or out on the town (which admittedly isn't all that often now that I'm a boring old mom-type person), if somebody plays Don't Stop Til' You Get Enough, watch the fuck out, because Bev will work it. And if they play Thriller, expect to see some zombie hands.
Speaking of "Thriller", here's a confession I've never shared with anyone that I think you'll find both humorous and mortifying. My sister Debbie will remember this, because she was the only witness to it. I was maybe 8 or so when this happened, and it was Debbie's album, not mine. So I was in her room snooping around, which was something I did a lot back then (sorry, Deebs, you were interesting and I had no sense of personal space!), and I got out her "Thriller" album and put it on. Then I decided to have some fun with Michael, my big crush (shhhhh), so I got in her bed and opened up the fold-out picture of him in the white suit. You know, this one:
I swear to God, nothing happened. We were totally just talking! No funny business. BUT, Debbie walked in and caught me in bed with Michael Jackson, and I don't think she has ever looked at me the same way since.
I could go on and on and on about how much I liked "Bad" and how many MJ pins I had on my corduroy jacket, or how much I envied that trashy girl on the bus who actually had a red vinyl jacket with zippers just like Michael's. Bitch. But I'll stop now, because I've already over-shared and I'm afraid you're all gonna start looking at me funny, like Debbie still does.
Moving on... Farrah. What's to say about Farrah? She seemed like a nice lady, and she was incredibly beautiful, and I loved her on Charlie's Angels. I can't say that she was my favorite, because that honor went to Jaclyn Smith. Btw, I still love Jaclyn Smith, and I even watched that terrible Bravo show about hairdressers because she was on it.
I remember when I was young and my parents had some friends over for dinner, so I was left to entertain myself in the living room with my good friend, Television. What did 9-year-old Beverly Anne choose to watch? Why, The Burning Bed, of course!
Yep, a TV movie about an abused wife who can't get anyone to help her. SPOILER ALERT: After her disgusting drunk dick of a husband rapes her one night, she sets the bed on fire... with him in it. Rock the fuck on, Farrah! HELL YES. Also, Farrah was terrific in the movie, so don't let me hear you say she couldn't act.
So, there you have it: way more information than you needed (or probably wanted!) about me and why I am the way I am. Pop Culture junkies aren't born, they're made; usually out of too much free time, too much extreme weather, and too much access to movies, cable and satellite. I mean, it was northern Vermont, where the winters last 9+ months of the year! What else was there to do but read like a fiend and watch the same 80's comedies over and over again?
Ok, that'll do. Have yourselves a lovely Friday and weekend! I'll be out eating sushi and drinking dirty martinis with some girlfriends tonight. I will raise a glass to fallen icons and that will be that. Death sucks, and I've had about enough of it for quite a while.
Ciao, bella!
oxoxoxo
