Laurapalooza!: a con for all things Laura Ingalls Wilder

Good God. I want to go SO BAD. Like many girls before me--and I'm sure like many girls that will come—the Little House on the Prairie books were some of the greatest loves of my life. I read those to bits—I even had doubles of the books, so that my older, complete set might be spared the worst of the abuse.

Growing up, I wanted to be just like Laura—as a wee!Nella*, whenever my dad (which I used to think of as Pa, as he had a beard too!) needed help with anything, I'd jump to do so, just like Laura would have! And if it required heavy lifting, and my dad praised me after wards for my strength, you can bet your ass that in my mind I was thinking "STRONG LIKE A LITTLE FRENCH PONY!"

And you know, sometimes there are things I still do just because it's what Laura would have done. So yes, consider me keen on the idea of talking Little Halfpint with others.

...Now I wish I had those books on me…methinks this calls for a review of some sort in the future...hrum...


*and not a middling!Nella, when puberty hit and took away anything decent about me, until I clawed my way back out of adolescent douchery
I signed onto AIM, and lo and behold on the AIM home page, and article about and a picture of Bronson Pinchot pops up. And holy shit, it was like the flood gates where fucking opened, the hounds of hell released. I just got to experience the real life version of that dramatic scene in the movies where the main character who's lost all their memories/can't remember their traumatic past has it all come back to them in a sudden rush of images and sensations.

I remembered--

Perfect Strangers.

Shit son. 1986-1993. That was the time I was a real wee bairn of a Nella, the tender ages of 1-8 years old. Those where the years I watched Inspector Gadget, Get Smart, Adam West's Batman, and William Shatner narrating "Rescue 911" (I FUCKING LOVED THAT SHOW WHEN I WAS 4 AND UP).

And then there was...Perfect Strangers. Man, I can't even. You've just got to watch the clip. Watch it, and Know Me Better, Man.




My God. How had I banished this to the farthest corner of my mind? HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN BALKIE????


AND ON THAT NOTE, I LEAVE YOU WITH THE DANCE OF JOY.

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