5.) The Lion King
THE STAMPEDE, YOU GUYS. The Stampede. Johnathan Taylor Thomas killed James Earl Jones. Way to go, asshole. If I were Tim Allen, I'd be shitting hammers right now. Or back in 1994, technically. And looking back, "shitting bricks" probably would have sufficed. If you consider bricks to be tools. Which after a lot of soul searching, I've decided I do. I don't really know why I insist on writing these posts at 3:45 in the morning. ANYWAY, although I was probably around 10 when my parents bought this movie, I to this day have never watched it on VHS without fast-forwarding through the scene where Mufasa dies. And you know what? That's a point of pride. I was old enough to take control of my destinty and chose not to subject myself to Disney's cheap torture. Unlike with...
4.) The Fox and the Hound
FRIENDS NEVER SAY GOODBYE! And Goonies never say die! Ah, the sage life advice of woodland creatures and Sean Astin. On a scale of one to soul-raping, I'd say The Fox and the Hound song, "Goodbye May Seem Forever", is a forced fingerblasting. The song on its own might be depressing, but what makes it really emotionally scarring is that we're forced to listen to it as the Widow Tweed abandons Tod in the forest. You know, after his mother was tragically killed by a hunter, thereby making him an orphan. (Down two mother figures in one movie? You, Mr. Disney, were a Nazi.) This scene is also uniquely cruel in that it taps into the pain of both being left behind and being the one forced to leave. "And now I find—we're both alone [...] But in my heart is a memory, and there you'll always be." Not to mention that foxes, animated or otherwise, are just god damn adorable. Wanna see something truly horrifying?
"Oh, hey best friend!"
"This feels like a lot of emotions for a woman who I know for a fact isn't raggin'..."
"This feels premature..."
"So...so I'll just follow you, or did you wanna meet back up at the house or...?"
"You are aware that there was a recent death in the family, right? I kind of feel like I shouldn't be alone right now."
"K, well I'll just be slicing wrists in the forest if you need me..."
3.) The Land Before Time
Now why did I think this movie was so traumatic again? Hmm...uhhh...OH, I KNOW! Because Little Foot's mom dies directly in front of him after promising that she'll always be with him, even if he can't see her. "What do you mean, 'if I can't see you'? I can always see you! Mother?...MOTHER??" Christ. I saw this at a friend's house, was immediately traumatized, and vowed to never watch it again. Then one day, by a cruel twist of fate, my elementary school randomly combined the AM and PM kindergarden classes, plopped us down in a room, popped in The Land Before Time and shut the door. I was like, "OOOF. Shit's about to get real." I can still feel my throat burning as I looked around the classroom, desperately trying to concentrate on anything but the TV because I was too embarrassed to cry in front of everyone. Looking back, I'm honestly baffled why they would ever play that movie for us in a group setting. I'm going to become a kindergarten teacher and force my students to watch The Boy in the Stripped Pajamas in front of their peers. Why? Two words: character building.
Look, I spent a large part of last night on the phone with my mom harassing at her to sing the "mother-related torch song" from Dumbo to me. Am I proud? No. Will I call back and ask her to do it again later this afternoon? Probably. It's also worth noting that during said call, my mom made the excellent point that whereas Fern from Charlotte's Web was a bitch because she became a fast, dirty whore who abandoned Wilbur to explore a world of boys and partial-birth abortions, Christopher Robin callously abandoned Winnie the Pooh when he went off to school and left all of his toys behind. This enraged me in a way that makes me somewhat uncomfortable to look back on, and in the heat of my anger, I googled "Christopher Robin is an asshole" and found this Facebook group:It's appropriately called, "Christopher Robin is an asshole", and the description is:
"Pooh thinks you're his best friend, but do you ever take the time to hang out with him. I don't think so. Pooh's always trying to find you, and going to look for you. Stop being such a dick and give Pooh the respect he deserves you cock."It has one sole member: its founder, Bob Lowe, of Madison, Wisconsin. Mr. Lowe, if this Facebook group was your subtle way of proposing marriage to me—YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES!
1.) The Chipmunk Adventure
UH, remember this fucking movie?!!?!?! Laura and I watched a fair bit of it last night on youtube and I'm going to go ahead and make a bold statement: this movie has stood the test of time, if not gotten better since 1987. Is one of its songs currently my ringtone? No. But give me a few hours and it will be. Because the soundtrack is absurdly awesome. ALTHOUGH, can we talk about the musical number, "Getting Lucky"?
First and foremost, The Chipettes were 100% sold into sex slavery. BOOM—there it is. Second, I know this has become one of the most cliché sentences in the American lexicon, but Britney: you look like a whore. Finally, upon closer inspection, this song is grossly innaproprite:
Honey, you're a sweet thing
and you look so fine
all I ever wanted
is to make you mine
tell me what I need to do
to get lucky with you
Boy I really love you
with my heart and soul
honey won't you take me
where I want to go
tell me what I need to do
to get lucky with you
hmmm getting lucky
is what's its really all about
hmmm getting lucky
its something I can't do without
Honey I've been waiting
let me unlock you're heart boy
I think I got the key
To get lucky with you
Right. Now I could analyze this song, the whorish outfits, the fact that in order for the girls to acquire diamonds and cash, they have to tame phallic snakes and "get lucky" with you, boy, and interpret what all of this says about our society, but at the end of the day, the four-year-old girl inside me and the 25-year-old woman that is me really just wants to strut around my apartment in a spangly, spangly Arabian Princess outfit and croon to a baby penguin. So there's that.
Speaking of crooning to baby penguins—"My Mother". That song crushes my soul every single time. You'll note, actually, that pretty much all of the movies in my traumatic Top 5 deal with mother/parent abandonment. One might assume that perhaps I have parental abandonment issues, right? "Where might that have come from?", you may be asking yourself. WELL SIT RIGHT DOWN AND LET ME TELL YOU A TALE. A TALE OF ABANDONMENT AND LUXERY VACATIONS.
On my sixth birthday, my parents abandoned me to go on vacation to Monte Carlo for two weeks. Yeah. I know. TWO WEEKS. On my birthday. (#uppermiddleclassproblems) And during those two weeks, I was shuffled back and forth between my aunt, my grandparents, and our freaky Evangelical Christian neighbors. ON MY BIRTHDAY. To say the least, I did not handle this well. If we're going to get specific, I went on a hunger strike and locked myself in my room for a few days. This has since become a staple McBlogger family inside joke. "HA HA, remember that time we went on vacation and old Meg freaked out and went on a hunger strike?? What a weirdo." Oh, I'm sorry—I was six-fucking-years old! My parents left me on my birthday! And I had to spend it with freaky Christians who wouldn't let me read my Simpsons comic books because they were "blasphemous" and "disrespected Christmas"! I was miserable and have never felt so alone in my entire life. And that pain has since been, and continues to be, a huge joke to my family. For example, I was out to dinner with my parents last week and told them that I wouldn't be in town this year for my birthday because I'll be in Charlotte for a friend's wedding. This opened up the door to a whole slew of "UH-OH! You won't be here for your birthday?? Looks like we all better go on a hunger strike! BAHAHA!" jokes. Assholes.
Now, I know I only got a three on my A.P. Psychology exam and my current occupation is "Executive Fart Joke Broker", but I can't help but think that maybe part of the reason I was so hesitant to be separated from my parents for a long time at the tender age of six-years-old was because I had been conditioned from an early age to think that, oh, you know, they were going to DROP DEAD at any given moment, whether at the hands of hunters, wildebeests, circus workers, earthquakes, the ice age, tar pits, volcanic eruptions, evolution or a Sharptooth attack. Frankly, I can see why I didn't like those odds! So, fueled by this breakthrough and desperate for a little compassion, I tried to broach the topic with my mom again last night. This was the resulting conversation:
Me: I think I have abandonment issues.
Mom: I understand why you would, sweetheart.
Me: Wait...you do?
Mom: Well of course! All your friends are leaving and it must be very upsetting!
Me: Oh, no no no—what I meant to say was, I think you gave me abandonment issues.
Mom: Oh, Jesus Christ. I gave you abandonment issues because of one birthday in Europe? You wait until I die! That'll make me missing your birthday in Europe seem like a day at the beach—which it was, by the way.
And then she burst into uncontrollable laughter.
...I wish I had studied slightly harder in A.P. Psych. Now if you need me, I'll be in the fetal position somewhere not eating.