I open with the best kissing scene in all of John Hughes history. Better than Sixteen Candles [snooze]. Better than the passionless pecks in The Breakfast Club. Better than any Brat Pack liplock involving Andrew McCarthy. Is it the soundtrack? The juxtaposition of sex and oil pans? Is it the badassery of Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts? No matter. It’s a cocktail of PG-sexy awesomeness.
Behold…the Kissing Lesson from Some Kind of Wonderful.
My husband has just gone up to bed. At 7:00. Voluntary exile. The usual.
My talking is annoying more than just myself these days. Probably because of this habit of diving too deep into new topics (this week…an earthship), and giving an unnecessary, detailed running commentary of my findings. And my thoughts on my findings, my questions about my thoughts on my findings. My worries about my motivations for even seeking said findings. The usual.