February 7, 2010

The Tanya Roberts Boobly Retrospective

SO last night we wanted to watch a family movie. My birthday is approaching, and I have asked for some sort of ROKU or BLUE RAY that can pipe Netflix directly into my brain from space, but as of yet I have no such technology. Alas.

Digression: Last night I was burning up with this FURNACE of a dog on one side and a roaring inferno of a husband on the other and not one but two fatty lumps of hot feline coal on my feet, and I whined until Scott went and turned the thermostat down to some ridiculous low number that Polar Bears might like, and two hours later I woke up freezing and stomped around layering on pajamas and finding quilts, and then two hours later was hurling all the layers and blankets onto the floor.

Scott kinda cracked an eye at me and sat up and said, "Really?" I wrestled him down and sat on him (he may have let me, some, but I do not know. I am pretty mighty when I am irascible and my dial seems turned to PERMA irascible recently) and I made up a little night time song and I sang it to him and it went like this:

It's so fun, to be forty-one.
I'm hot, then I'm cold,
It's because I'm super old.
But It's so fun, to be forty one,
That I refoooooose
to become Forty-twos.

I sang it til he went and put the thermostat down more, so it is a good and effective song. I have not copyrighted it. You may use it for free if you like. You have to say the OOOOOOO in refoooooose really LONG though. /digression.

SO with no immediate Netflix and no desire to put on actual pants (I was wearing Fantasy Pants, remember them? If you do you are SO old school here on FTK!) and go to Blockbuster. We went down in the basement, where DVDs go to die, and dug aroud until we found a five million year old copy of BEASTMASTER that I think we got (along with several other CLASSIC films like CLASH OF THE TITANS and NIGHT OF THE WOLF) by trading a nice pizza stone and cutter from Crate and Barrel at this Christmas party in MAJOR white elephant skunk-out. And yes, we were and are geeky enough to think we won that trade.

BEASTMASTER stars Marc Singer as a man in fringed leather panties who makes friends with a hawk, some marmotty weasels, and a tiger who has been inexplicably dyed black, I suppose because the script called for someone to play the role of "Panther who is shaped just like a tiger and whose stripes keep showing through the cheap dye."

beastmaster.jpg

Scott: Hey I bet the kids would LOVE this.

Me: Better keep looking. I think Tanya Roberts shows her boobs.

Scott: Oh, no, I am sure I would remember that. She has very nice boobs.

Me: How sure? Because I do not want to be in a room with my adolescent male son and the boobs of Tanya Roberts. I mean, I get that Sam would probably enjoy seeing them, sometime, on his OWN, but maybe not with his MOTHER In the room. So. Not. Comfortable.

Him: *flips over box* No, honey, look it is rated PG.

Me: Oh! Hrm. I must be thinking of another movie where Tanya Roberts shows her boobs.

Scott: *dryly* Yes. I suspect it is not a small genre.

SO we all gathered around and got various bowls of popcorn and whatnot, settled the dog, and maybe FIVE SCENES into the movie a raaaaather shapely young lady came GALLOPING along like a Charlie’s Angel and a passing horseman ripped her top right off . She bounded endlessly toward the camera while this kind of horrified MY MOM IS IN THE ROOM AND THERE ARE BOOBS hush fell upon my children. Later on, a blonde with no lines (neither spoken nor tan) decided to take a bath in a stream while wearing her pants. JUST her pants. Tanya Roberts seemed to think this was a great idea, to take a bath in pants. Together they toplessly frolicked about having a bouncy little water fight.

Not. Comfortable. I made it through the two boobs of running girl, but four boobs was a boob too many. I said to Scott FAST FORWARD. NOW. And he did while Maisy protested mightily saying, MOM I AM A GIRL I CAN SEE NAKED GIRLS JUST MAKE DADDY AND SAM CLOSE THEIR EYES IT IS STILL MODEST IF ONLY GIRLS LOOK. Everyone over 10 years of age died a little inside.

SO to spare you such moments, I have some information for you. PG in 1982 did not mean what PG means NOW. In 1982 they had not invented PG-13, and you could show boobs and get a PG rating as long as no one was TOUCHING the boobs or engaging in any sexualish behavior near them. Free range boobs were perfectly okay, apparently, whole herds of them.

You are welcome. Right about now, someone topless should come out and sing the NBC public service song thing...THE MORE YOU KNOW....

Posted by joshilyn at February 7, 2010 6:04 PM
Comments

I'm only about 6 months away from needing your 41 song. I'm still cold all the time, but I'm sure my time is coming. I will bookmark your song for that purpose.

And, oh yes indeed, 1982 PG -- I settled my family down for a viewing of PG 'Tootsie' -- KNOWING no one takes off their clothes, save for Dustin Hoffman switching in and out of being male and female. But you know what? They drop the F-bomb about every 3 lines. Really? I guess it was at that point that parents rose up and said "PUH-lease keep Tanya Roberts' boobs and the F-bomb away from my kids!" Who knew? Good times...

Posted by: Sarah S. at February 7, 2010 7:47 PM

Ah Yes, I saw the PG-13 technicallity about 1/2 way through the blog. This is how I got to see "Blues Brothers" (think pliers and male anatomy, which my dad had to _explain_ to me) and "Smokey and the Bandit" in the theater.
I remember being on a flight that showed "The Sting." The stewardess brought me a pillow to sit on _after_ the girl in the pasties did her dance for Robert Redford.
I'd still show that one to my kids though. We're going to St. Louis for a Girl Scout trip, and plan to see Scott Joplin's home. :)

Posted by: JulieB at February 7, 2010 9:11 PM

PS. I'm 44. Wish I had that sone 2 years ago.

Posted by: JulieB at February 7, 2010 9:12 PM

Yes, my sons have found that loophole as well.

But they lost their innocence YEARS ago when my mother thought they just had to see E.T. In which one brother calls the other "penis breath" before five minutes of the movie has elapsed.

IMDB.com is your friend.

Posted by: Jen at February 7, 2010 9:26 PM

I laughed until my husband made the mistake of asking what was so funny, and then I read your song to him and gleefully announced that he is not the only one dealing with a wife like that! And then I made shook my fists in the air and exclaimed, "I am not alone!"

The thermostat, it is evil...

Posted by: Jen at February 7, 2010 11:11 PM

My first R rated movie was An Officer and a Gentleman. I was 13 and I went with my church group. In the first five minutes, we saw a guy in bed with two women. They weren't sleeping.

My most memorable naked scene, however, was in Blue Thunder. I was sixteen, sitting next to my seventeen year old (male) friend and his friend. We all froze solid when they hovered the silent helicopter outside the naked yoga-lady/contortionist's 30th floor apartment window.

It's funny, though, what they rated PG and what got an R. Breakfast Club had no nudity, a little language and some marijuana, and it was rated R.

Posted by: Sandi at February 8, 2010 12:03 AM

Being the mom of a 15yr old and 13 yr old sons, we won't talk about the other 2 right now, I so feel your movie pain......and being 7 weeks shy of turning FIFTY (I'm trying the number out in many fashions so I will not be so shocked when it gets here) I feel your hot pain also...and so does my hubby!!

Posted by: Jane In The Jungle at February 8, 2010 12:05 AM

I can sympathize with your thermostat issues. And just for the record, 68 at midnight does NOT mean the same as 68 at 5AM! The difference between plenty warm thanks and wheresthefrigginheat?!

And thanks to The Benchwarmers (PG) my 7yo wants to know What's Going All The Way mean? Anybody want to answer that for him? Anybody? Bueller?

Posted by: PattiH at February 8, 2010 1:25 AM

Good knowledge.

Posted by: Nikki at February 8, 2010 1:55 AM

I'm going to have to write down that song and save it for a rainy day. Or something. You are just way too darn funny, Miz Joss.
PS, Free range boobs...whole herds of them .. maybe made me snort water through my nose. Thanks :P

Posted by: Heather at February 8, 2010 3:28 AM

Good to know that 41 hasn't yet affected your MEMORY, at least! You remembered those boobies more than Mr. Husband did (Scott, discrediting men and their booby-memories everywhere). ;-)

I've been doing the hot/cold/wake up in drenched sheets thing since I hit puberty, I don't know how I'll ever figure out when I'm approaching "THE CHANGE".

Posted by: Brigitte at February 8, 2010 7:28 AM

Just to show you the flip side of the boobie coin: We were watching the Superbowl last night and every time they zoomed in on the cheerleaders, my son would dive under a throw pillow and scream TELL ME WHEN IT'S OVER. Apparently at 10, boobs are still rather frightening.

Posted by: Mir at February 8, 2010 7:39 AM

Good to know there are such happy songs about 41. I'll need it later this year. As ever, you are a wealth of information!

Posted by: Kitty at February 8, 2010 8:20 AM

Seems the forty-something thermostats just aren't what they used to be. Mine, too, has gone haywire. Sigh....

Posted by: Kim at February 8, 2010 10:24 AM

THAT is a good song. I will *not* be turning forty-twos in October, and I know exactly what you're talking about. I will sing it for my furnace-y husband and cats tonight.

Posted by: Aimee at February 8, 2010 11:46 AM

Oh My!!! You make me laugh out loud and everyone wonders what's going on in my office! Thank you!

Posted by: Kathy at February 8, 2010 11:56 AM

I remember the fantasy pants, and I am so stealing that song.

Posted by: Jill W. at February 8, 2010 12:44 PM

And I remember seeing Beastmaster in the theater, as well as that other Marc Singer movie where he plays a blind guy. Did he ever do anything else?

Posted by: Jill W. at February 8, 2010 12:47 PM

I just died laughing...on the inside. Your house is like it's own sitcom.

Posted by: Lia at February 8, 2010 1:30 PM

You crack me up! I was totally in LOVE with Marc Singer in the Beastmaster. Even more so in If You Could See What I Hear.

Also, Clash of the Titans is one of the greatest movies ever! (Or at least I thought so when I spent my 8th grade summer watching it over and over ad nauseum on HBO.)

Did you know they are remaking Clash of the Titans? With Liam Neeson and a bunch of other big name actors. I hope they don't slaughter it. I'm sure CGI sacrilege will be committed.

Posted by: 5elementknitr at February 8, 2010 3:46 PM

i'm thinking the answer to "what's going all the way mean" is a matter-of-fact "that's how you get pregnant and have a baby." now that's a conversation starter if i ever heard one!
i was thinking the pgs of yesteryear were not the same as the pgs of today. i swear, weren't urban cowboy and saturday night fever pg? i have memories of cringing because i saw them with my mom.....

Posted by: dramamama at February 8, 2010 5:06 PM

*dies laughing*

Posted by: Jess at February 9, 2010 10:05 AM

Oh, I am right there with you in the "personal thermostat issues." I call them "Summer Moments." My friends know when I am having a "Summer Moment" because I begin tearing my clothes off and sometimes jump headlong into a snowbank. Here in Virginia, we have just had several major winter storms, so there are five-foot-tall snowbanks readily available. But, since the temperatures outside have been in the teens at night, it has sometimes become more convenient just to step out onto my small deck. Which also has its awkward moments. Like, when it's two AM and the twenty-somethings are coming home from a night of carousing, and they look up and see, hovering on the deck above them, a *cough*forty*cough*something*cough* apparition in a nightie. Of course, I'm sweating my sweaty-parts off, and red as a beet; I want to yell, "Oh, YEAH!" and burst through the railing holding a pitcher of fruit punch. But then they would crowd around me like good thirsty children, holding out glasses, and the nightgown I'm wearing won't stand that kind of scrutiny. So I just peer down at them and say, "Oh. You were that noise I heard. I thought you were burglars," and putter off into the house.

And, re: The Beastmaster, I still haven't forgotten a word you coined a while ago, describing an unexpected topless photo of a blogger on her page. The word is "a'boobsin'." I think it's a verb. I think it's reeeeally funny.

Posted by: JMixx at February 9, 2010 4:07 PM

Wasn't Tanya Roberts in Sheena and showed her boobs there too?

I am 43.
And happy to be.

Posted by: timmi at February 9, 2010 8:47 PM

Of course, the pre-PG 13 stuff created some interesting divides where "Top Gun" was R when it first came out (I believe it has now been downgraded) and "Footloose" was R (my mother was very upset to discover I had seen it at a slumber party lo those many years ago, so apparently frolicky boobs were considered harmful than volleyball playing and dancing. (Okay there might be other things in those movies too.)

Posted by: Randomranter at February 10, 2010 4:33 PM

Oh I feel your PG pain. My husband and I both forgot (didn't even hear or understand back in the day?) about the penis talk in E.T. not five minutes into the movie. And doesn't "Pretty in Pink" have a boob shot? Or was that "Sixteen Candles"? Anyway, I remember seeing several '80s PG movies on daytime cable when my mom was at work and my brother and I were left to our own devices that had lots of frolicking breasts in them.

Also, was watching "Breakfast at Tiffany's" a year or two ago on cable and noticed it was rated G! For the love of Pete, Holly Golightly is not a G kind of girl!

Posted by: Lori B. at February 10, 2010 11:34 PM

Bwaaahh haaa haaa!!!! Free-range boobs!

Posted by: ruthwells at February 12, 2010 12:52 PM