Isn't that fun?

So I rented this movie I hadn't seen since I was like, oh I don't know, 14? National Lampoon's Class Reunion. My siblings and I would watch this and laugh our asses off. We memorized the dialogue. We poked each other when something funny was about to happen. We stared, trancelike, at the fabulous tits. (Interesting how my parents wouldn't let me see Close Encounters, but this was fine. Twisted.) We watched it three times a day. Kids'll do that when they like a film. And some adults.

My renewed interest in the film was twofold: I wanted to revisit something that I thought was incredibly hilarious back then, and I was interested in seeing what was so great about John Hughes' writing. (For my own research, of course.)

Without going into a whole review of the movie, I'll just say that, even though the innuendo and tits are clearly marked "adult," the cartoon, comic book quality of the characters and plot devices are so juvenile and ridiculous that only children can fully appreciate the brilliance of this film. Well, except for me. Because I'm totally immature. I still love it. I think. Maybe I need to watch it once more...

===== breaking news =====

Baxter is gray, has a little white belly and pink nose. He was last seen running into my bedroom at about 1:30AM this morning.

I tore that shit up and still can't find him. Live traps have been set. No bites yet. I wish I could just be a little psychotic. Just a little. So it wouldn't bother me at all to stomp his little mammal ass.

Awww. I can't even write that without feeling bad for the little guy. My sister thinks I should catch him and then throw him in a Habitrail. Interesting, but no. He's going to the park. Where he'll be totally helpless and eaten by killer pigeons by day's end.

Hopefully my new kitty will be a bit of a mouser and then I can wash my hands of this whole killing thing. I don't like it one bit.