Goonie Girls

Yesterday, I had a white-trash-debutante day with Mata Hari. We started drinking Strongbows (we figured Champagne was too rich for our ghetto blood) around 11 am. A poo poo platter of holiday cookies was breakfast.

We attempted to watch soap operas, but opted to watch The Goonies instead. I used to have a crush on Josh Brolin; Mata, on Sean Astin. They were so young. When I first watched Goonies, I remember thinking Mr. Brolin was an adult, now I realize he was a teen. Mata and I agreed that we identified with shorn-haired Martha Plimpton - the sassy, outspoken, dikey girl who didn't get the guy. Uncannily enough, we are two of the three girls I know who still sport short hair. Maybe Goonies made me the ghetto bitch I am today? Scary, and yet, somehow relieving.

Seriously, Goonies is the template (or used the template) for all "boy adventure" movies, from Clint Eastwood spagetti westerns, to all the current teen movies: four boys - one smart, one funny, one nerdy, and one "other" with a funny accent; two girls - one pretty, and one tomboy; and one big adventure where they must outrun the bad guys, get the gold, and save the people in need.

To this day, I love Goonies. All the "mouse traps" in the flick are awesome (same goes for Pee Wee's Big Adventure). I always wanted a house full of them. Wait: I live in a house full of mouse traps. Too bad they're actually used to catch mice. Mind you, I do have blue astro turf on my bathroom ceiling, a huge mural of a bird on my living room wall, and a Persian peaks on my kitchen door frames.

Weird to think my childhood fantasies have come true. Well, except for Josh Brolin, pirates, and pots of gold.

Nerd.