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Rocky Horror Will Never Die

Way back when, we used to dress up and come into the city on Saturday nights for the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show. We were in high school. We were high. To tell you the truth, it was late for me, and I think I dozed off at every single showing.

Last night, Annie and her friends rented the DVD of Rocky Horror and saw it for the first time. This afternoon, Old Bill and Old Me curled up in front of the TV, broad daylight, and did the Time Warp back 30 years.

Tim Curry still rocks. Meatloaf and Susan Sarandon were hopelessly young. And I still know all the words to the songs, and what to yell at the screen, and when to throw the rice and squirt the water.

I still want to grow up to be Magenta.

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I want to be Magenta, too!

I first saw this when visiting a friend at another college. I wanted to wear my leather jacket to the show, and they wouldn't let me. I couldn't figure out why not, but they insisted. I piled on other people's sweaters instead (it was Halloween night in Michigan, after all, it was awfully cold) and when I saw all the rice, toast and water flying, I figured it out.

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In college

In college “projectionist” was one of the two jobs I held down to pay my way. My regular gig was the midnight movie, and Rocky Horror was one of our staples. It was fun to watch, but ugh the clean up after. The theater and the bathrooms were always a horrible, horrible mess. Still, I do love the nostalgia that watching Rocky can bring.