My boys are the beneficiary of a kindly uncle. Uncle Al, they call him, and he’s one of Lonny’s best friends.
He has taken it upon himself to educate the boys in the important matters of power tool usage, spit balls, explosives and James Bond movies. He usually sticks to the vintage stuff but the other day I lobbied for A View To A Kill, which being from 1985 makes it almost 30 years old. This qualifies as vintage on eBay. Anyway, I remember it totally rocking my world when I saw it as a pre-teen in Sacramento.
What stuck out most in my mind was the opening sequence in the movie where Bond snowboards down the mountain to California Girls. Later I found out that Lonny used to make snowboards with the stuntman who did the snowboarding (Steve Link) and I actually met the guy. I have never met a meeker, more timid person in my life. IN MY LIFE!
Then there was the Duran Duran title song. I was IN LOVE with Simon Le Bon. In. Love.
Talk about a weak music video. Le Bon looks great in a beret but would it have killed him to do a little lip-synching?
So Al brought it over and we watched it, en famille. There’s so much I forgot about that movie. Like HOW BORING it was. At least the truly vintage Bond is campy. And the new stuff? Hubba.
Anyway, Grace Jones is one of the Bond girls in the movie, kind of. Although I am loathe to call her a “girl”. Grace Jones is her own entity and defies categorization.
The other Bond Girl was Tanya Roberts, who I am also loathe to call a girl as “stick of wood” better describes her on-screen presence. There was a rather disturbing scene of Jones practicing jiu jitsu or something with Christopher Walken and she’s wearing a thong maillot which leads to a rather improbable make-out session.
Upon seeing her outfit, Testiclese turned to me and said, “I bet you want that for pole dancing.”
Of course I was like, “No sweetie, I don’t want that outfit for pole dancing. It has way too much coverage and I’d never stick to the pole.” Testy was like, “Oh, right.”
But what I would love it for is aerobics.
This is me rocking an awesome 80’s aerobic get-up that Lonny brought home for me. The trick to pulling off this look is to wear it without a hint of irony. Sure, the other ladies were giggling at me but I know that they were just jealous.
It was a bitchin’ outfit that sadly I can never wear again because my housemate’s football player boyfriend wore it for Halloween (unbeknownst to me, she said she was borrowing it for herself) and now it’s all stretched out.
I guess it doesn’t matter since I don’t do aerobics anymore because the instructor is FUCKING INSANE (says the woman in a terrycloth headband and leg warmers). It was fun while it lasted.
I’ve got nothing to show for today, as far as crap cutting is concerned. I blew my wad the other day in the sun room so I’m taking the weekend off.