Sure, Laurie Strode's the final Final Girl -- brains + doobage = booklie discussions + The Wizard -- but Ginny Field's a close second 'cause duh.
Intensity for ten cities.
I know life's a bummer baby, but that's got precious little to do with me
Sure, Laurie Strode's the final Final Girl -- brains + doobage = booklie discussions + The Wizard -- but Ginny Field's a close second 'cause duh.
Posted by Randal Graves at 3:50 PM
Labels: arcane rituals, film, music, narcissism
9 comments:
Boo!
The first was the best - not that I've seen the rest. I do have limits.
I saw Magic Mike the other night. (speaking of scary)
((Hugs))
Laura
Ah, a young Jamie Lee, the object of many teenage fantasies.
Don't bogart that joint, my friend...
~
jim, that's what I said during, and after, first watching Friday the 13th IN 3-D POP GOES THE SCREEN.
susan, the first was definitely the best, but boy did I have a big crush on Amy Steel here from the second flick.
laura, I have no idea what that is. I know I loathed Mike, and those who wished to Be Like Mike. Never should have traded Ron Harper.
BB, oh hell yeah, and don't forget The Fog, and Trading Places.
if, who do I look like, Barney? Sharing don't mean no caring, hippie.
If 13 is your number then this should be like Christmas.
What no Buffy the vampire slayer? Always had a thing for Sarah Michelle Geller.
It ain't lucky, I still haven't won the lottery. I hope you don't have to buy a ticket to win.
One of my Mount Rushmore shows, but Willow's where it's at. Then she forsook all us men. Sniff.
you blame everything on hippies...:)
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