(no subject)
The death of Jonathan Crombie, aka The Only Gilbert Blythe That Mattered, led me down a YouTube rabbit hole of Anne of Green Gables behind-the-scenes specials copied from someone's dying VHS tapes. It was so strange to see Marilla smoking between takes (and all up in Megan Follows face, no less) and then putting the cigarette out in a full ashtray that was literally just off-camera. Also, the part with Anne in the capsizing canoe was so funny to watch being filmed, because there are all these shirtless '80s guys in cut-off jean shorts with feathered mullets pushing the boat around, trying to stay out of the shots.
I was immediately struck by how tiny and young Megan Follows was. The first time I saw those movies in middle school, she was definitely older than me.
An LJ friend having trouble with a prank caller reminded me: When I was a kid, we went through a few weeks where a child would ring us several times a day and ask in a Steve Urkelesque voice, "Is Floyd there?" Eventually, he started calling over and over, until we had to leave the phone off the receiver for the day. If we tried to call him back, he'd answer and immediately hang up.
That was the summer my cool older cousin was visiting. Cool for me meant he was from somewhere else--in this case, Texas to my Florida. He knew about dust storms! He lived on a ranch, maybe like the ranch in "Hey Dude"! He'd been kicked in the head by a horse once and reportedly walked around cross-eyed all day! He painted some of his nails black! He maintained a haircut that somehow managed to encompass elements of both a mohawk and a mullet, simultaneously! And it was all these different bright colors! And he'd buy shrimp bait and eat it while he fished! His name was so unique that I won't even post it in an unlocked entry, but we called him Austin. I still have no idea why.
Austin had dealt with prank callers before. You blew a whistle into the phone when they called. Or banged it on the counter. Or had a shrill-voiced child screech directly into the receiver. He had a whistle! We knew how to bang things on counters! I could be a shrill-voiced child who screeched!
So we devoted a day to these things. Until my mother found out what we were doing and made us just leave the phone off the hook again.
That night, Dad reported that he'd been mystified when he called the house and heard only loud banging before being hung up on. When he tried to call back later, the line was busy every time.
We never found out the identity of this child so desperately in search of Floyd. Here's to you and all those serene summer afternoons you interrupted, you little brat.
I was immediately struck by how tiny and young Megan Follows was. The first time I saw those movies in middle school, she was definitely older than me.
An LJ friend having trouble with a prank caller reminded me: When I was a kid, we went through a few weeks where a child would ring us several times a day and ask in a Steve Urkelesque voice, "Is Floyd there?" Eventually, he started calling over and over, until we had to leave the phone off the receiver for the day. If we tried to call him back, he'd answer and immediately hang up.
That was the summer my cool older cousin was visiting. Cool for me meant he was from somewhere else--in this case, Texas to my Florida. He knew about dust storms! He lived on a ranch, maybe like the ranch in "Hey Dude"! He'd been kicked in the head by a horse once and reportedly walked around cross-eyed all day! He painted some of his nails black! He maintained a haircut that somehow managed to encompass elements of both a mohawk and a mullet, simultaneously! And it was all these different bright colors! And he'd buy shrimp bait and eat it while he fished! His name was so unique that I won't even post it in an unlocked entry, but we called him Austin. I still have no idea why.
Austin had dealt with prank callers before. You blew a whistle into the phone when they called. Or banged it on the counter. Or had a shrill-voiced child screech directly into the receiver. He had a whistle! We knew how to bang things on counters! I could be a shrill-voiced child who screeched!
So we devoted a day to these things. Until my mother found out what we were doing and made us just leave the phone off the hook again.
That night, Dad reported that he'd been mystified when he called the house and heard only loud banging before being hung up on. When he tried to call back later, the line was busy every time.
We never found out the identity of this child so desperately in search of Floyd. Here's to you and all those serene summer afternoons you interrupted, you little brat.