Amazing Stories.

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(Phone blog, so apologies for worse typing than usual. It’s a beautiful day out, so try to spend a good chunk of time outside, Ottawans!)

‘Amazing Stories’ popped up on Netflix yesterday evening, to Richard’s delight, so despite my very slow plans to head home, we watched his favourite episode, ‘The Family Dog’, which was one of Brad Bird’s first big things. Not bad for a hound young (thanks, autocorrect!) animator to get a leg-up from Spielberg.

It was wicked fun, but it’s always odd for me to admit that I’ve not seen something from the 1980s. I had a rep as a pop culture guru once, but this show completely passed me by, to the point where I didn’t recognize the opening credits and asked if it had been a cable show. (I had seen the blocky logo at least.)

I think I was most irritated about my ignorance in this case is that I am so ill-tuned to current popular culture (only know Kellan Lutz’s name because of 30 Rock, hardly watch tv, am completely dependent on my pub quiz team for music questions because I don’t listen to commercial radio, etc.) that I want to cling on to the era I thought I knew.

I think all aging people feel that way, though. Also, ‘Amazing Stories’ was on when I was 7/8, not 11/12 like Richard. The stuff you adore (music, movies, tv) ages 12-17 remain beloved your whole life, really. (Although I’m in no rush to see Glass Tiger live again, I might have to find my beat-up cassette of Thin Red Line later.)

Right, enough boring, obvious pontificating – those who have seen ‘The Newsroom’ have had enough for this week, I’m sure. Haircut time. My orders: ‘Shorter than last time, but still feminine and not too foreheady.’

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