A girl's first crush is the one she never forgets.  He's usually mysterious, yet approachable, and obviously unobtainable.  And mine was all of those things rolled up into one perfect specimen:  Kevin Bacon.  

Here's the thing - while most girls only get to imagine what it would be like to meet their childhood crush, I actually got the chance.  And it was before I moved on to more age-appropriate crushes like Mark-Paul Gosselaar (Zach Morris) or Scott Speedman (Ben Covington).   I was twelve years old, a mere tween, and Kevin Bacon came to my town to film Apollo 13.  That fateful night, my mother dragged me to the Houston Rockets game.  Full of embarrassment at having to be seen out in public with my mother and angst at, well, being twelve, I begrudgingly joined her at the game.  And that's when I spotted him:  the love of my life, sitting court-side with the rest of the cast (yes, I was using binoculars...at a Rockets game...in jorts).  On the dare of my mother, I actually marched myself down there (NOTE:  This was either before they checked tickets or before they started worrying about twelve year old girls in jorts and braces making a scene).  PS, this might have been the bravest thing I had ever done.

So there I was, walking up to the man of my dreams, Rockets flyer in hand, ready for a signature.  AND then I saw him turning other people away.  "This can't be," I said to myself.  I mean, we were destined to meet - he shows up in MY hometown, and he's not even going to meet me?  I think not.  I knew once he saw my braces-filled smile and long gangly tween figure, he'd be hooked.

So I pushed forward, flyer in hand and putting on my best please-love-me smile, hoping to convince him to make an exception for me.  AND HE DID.  But only after Big Boobs McGee walked by and he made an exception for her.  Then he saw me and knew there was no getting out of it.  So he signed my Rockets flyer(!), gave me a smile and went back to his game-watching, and I ran back to my seat with my trophy.  That thing hung above my bed for longer than I'd care to admit, but I never forgot about that moment.  

And, if you ask me, Le Bacon is still brutally hot.

It's not even the shoe itself that's my issue:  it's the decision to buy Crocs over any other shoe.  Seriously.  ANY other shoe.  I'm even OK'ing Tevas here, people.  You had to make the conscious decision to walk into a store, see the entire shoe selection (which, I'm going to assume, included more than just Crocs) and voluntarily choose a shoe made entirely of a synthetic, polyurethane-like substance, with a strap on the back to hold your foot in place when it starts sweating (as it will obviously do as a result of being made of such material) and HOLES so that when your foot inevitably sweats, some cool open air can flow in and dry it off.

I mean, are we savages??  For those of you reading this and saying to yourselves, "I mean, I don't think Crocs are so terrible," you are obviously a Wearer of Crocs (WOC) and may not understand the offensive effect that they have on others.  Let me say this, there are only three acceptable occasions for a WOC to wear Crocs:

1. Someone comes to your house and holds a gun to your head (though, if I were you, I would do my homework and make sure the gun was loaded before I agreed).
2. You are participating in water sports/activities and Aqua Socks are not available (yes, Aqua Socks are preferable to Crocs any day of the week and twice on Sundays).
3. You are a baby.  NOTE:  You must be an actual baby (i.e., a child under the age of five) to fall under this exception.  And you only fall under this exception because you're not old enough to make your own decisions as to clothes and/or divorce your parents for bad taste.

If you are reading this post, you probably don't fall under any of these exceptions, as a) you are probably old enough to use the Internet, b) if someone is holding a loaded gun to your head you've got things other than reading 'Idle Minded' on your mind, and c) Aqua Socks are always available.

So, to sum up, be a human and wear real shoes, not shoe substitutes.

We open on a "sick" Ferris determined to convince his parents to let him stay home from school - a situation all of us have been in at some point in our lives.  But Ferris does us one better - he gives us a list of How-Tos to do it - a "must see" for any high school freshmen out there.  After winning that opening battle, he begins leading the viewer on a series of adventures - nothing crazy, all things that a typical high school senior could do:  fancy lunch, a trip to the museum, a baseball game and a little pool time.  Oh, yeah, he also gains access to a Ferrari.  You know, typical high school stuff.

ANYWAY Ferris, Cameron and Ferris' girlfriend, Sloan Peterson (who I always want to be for Halloween, but finding a white suede puffy coat with elaborate fringe isn't as easy as one might think), then embark on a series of adventures all over the city of Chicago.  At one point, they even happen upon a parade (naturally) where Ferris finagles his way into singing on a float, capturing the hearts of every girl watching.  After a long day of rabble-rousing, the trio heads home, Ferris on a race-against-time to beat his parents back to the house (SPOILER ALERT:  he makes it).

But it's what this all adds up to that makes Mr. Bueller my hero - he fleeces EVERYONE in the movie.  And they all love him for it.  In fact, he has enriched their lives by giving them an opportunity to play a small part in his - something we should all aspire to.  He also shows us the importance of stopping to look around and enjoy life's moments rather than always looking ahead to see what's next.  And he does it all while wearing leopard.  Again, swoon.

So here's to you, Mr. Bueller.  May your days be filled with adventure and your singing always be dubbed.

I have not been more than ankle deep in the ocean in over eight years.  Some people think that's ridiculous, but I think it's realistic.  You see, the sharks and I have reached an understanding - they don't come into my realm and I certainly do my best to stay out of theirs.  And guess what?  I have had exactly zero shark bites (way to keep up your end of the bargain, sharks!).  The whole not-evolving-to-the-point-of-growing-legs-and-an-ability-to-breathe-out-of-the-water thing is their part of the bargain (you're welcome, humans).  And the number one shark keeping me out of the water (other than the Great White, which will get its own, much-deserved post another day):  Megalodon.

Now, some people do not believe in the existence of Megalodon.  Like the boogey man, Dracula and other things that go bump in the night, some believe Megalodon to be nothing more than a scary story.  But I beg to differ.  Just take a look at the video above.  That thing is real.  And not only is it a predator, it eats the scariest predator we know about for breakfast.  Mind.  Blown.
 
They may never actually use the word 'Megalodon,' but that is obviously the only logical answer to the question 'what ate this shark?'  And it is predators like this (and really just the mere suggestion of their existence) that lead me to keep my feet on dry land.  Let me be clear - I think sharks are absolutely beautiful and amazing creatures.  And I believe they serve a purpose within their delicate ecosystems.  But we do not.  

So, to sum it up:  stay dry, my friends.