Don't You (Forget About Me)

The work-a-holic-ness continues, thus, so does the blog neglect (whimper), but I certainly couldn't let this week go by without mentioning how sad I am about the passing of John Hughes.

Perhaps by now, you've seen plenty of 'best of' statuses from fellow Facebookers or articles recalling some of your favorite quotes:

Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?

Demented and sad, but social.

His name is Blane? That a major appliance, not a name!

John Hughes, in his prime, was so important that the professor of my Human Development course at Umass screened "The Breakfast Club" in class as part of an overall analysis of high school archetypes. Of course, he could've just been a lazy teacher who loved movies, but I think he was right on to include it as part of our studies. Don't we all feel a little Molly Ringwald-ish at some point in our teens?

(Yes guys, this means you, too!)

With John Hughes' death, and my TWENTIETH high school reunion looming large before me, I am feeling oldie-olderson and super 80's nostalgic. I miss my hair being kind of awesomely huge. And I kind of want to chuck my Ipod for an Iroc. Too bad I begrudgingly threw out my Z. Cavaricci's years ago. My butt looked so good in those pants.

Hollywood is feelin' the 80's love, too. Though St. Elmo's Fire was not a John Hughes creation, it was certainly from that era, and word on the street is it's coming to ABC as a dramedy. When I heard this, I felt a mixture of glee and horror, sort of how I feel about the upcoming Melrose remix. I mean, with Melrose, there's the good (Sydney and Michael are back!), and bad (Ashlee Simpson as part of the cast? Really?).

I am remaining optimistic that St. Elmo's 2.0 could be sort of great, and now I kind of want to go on a Brat Pack bender of rentals. Bet you do, too.

Well, as usual, I digress. I just miss the 80's. And now I miss you, John Hughes. Thank you for making teen angst awesome.



We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.