Monday, June 6, 2011

Bad Movies, Good Company



Recently I had the chance to get together with some people that I knew back when I was in college (1984-1988): Leigh, Trina, and Kyle. Our connection back then was The Rocky Horror Picture Show, beginning as fans and eventually leading to the performance cast; in short, we spent an inordinate amount of time running around in darkened theaters in our underwear (or less) shouting profanity at the tops of our lungs. Good times.

Leigh and I were already friends when we met the other two, and Leigh and I kept in touch through the years, remaining friends. Contact with Trina was more sporadic (totally my fault), but we had recently re-connected via mutual friends, a fondness for ArmadilloCon, and facebook. Kyle I had not seen or spoken to since college.

I was curious about the weekend we planned--sure, we had a lot of fun back then, but a lot of time had passed. Would we still have stuff in common, or were we in for a polite yet brutally uncomfortable time together?

The theme for the weekend was Bad Movies (okay, technically it was Bad Movies and Alcohol), with everyone bringing stuff to choose from. As we started unpacking our choices and looking over everyone else's, the conversation took off: categories of "bad", bad slasher films, Troma, SYFY crappy-mutant-monster-of-the-week movies, etc..

As we happily kibitzed and argued and teased each other, it was clear that our shared Rocky Horror past wasn't the only thing binding us together. These are genuinely smart, funny, knowledgeable people, and while are tastes aren't necessarily the same, they do overlap quite nicely. In short, a geek twenty years ago is probably still a geek today, so chances are you'll still have lots of common ground.

Re-connecting with old friends can be a fine, fine thing, because sometimes you need to discuss the relative merits of Sharktopus versus Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus (Sharktopus wins, hands down) or reduce the frankly awful Sleepaway Camp to a chorus of "Is it me, or does that chick have man-hands?" or decry the woeful lack of lesbians in a film called Blood Sisters of Lesbian Sin (and no, Lloyd Kaufman, an introductory sequence of you leering at two girls making out does not count).

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