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Tag Archives: Joan Crawford

Happy Mother’s Day from Me and Joan

A very Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers everywhere, most especially to my own very wonderful Mom.  I also send prayers and good thoughts out to all who are celebrating Mother’s Day without their mother.   I send love and respect to those who through choice or circumstance are not mothers. I am feeling tired and melancholy this afternoon, but one must make a blog post every day when one is me.  When other people are feeling down, I never can find the right words of wisdom and comfort.  All I can manage is to make stupid jokes in hopes that a little humor will take their minds off their troubles.  With that in mind, I submit the following picture I have used before.

In my defense, I do like candy.

Yes, it is Mommy, Dearest herself, Joan Crawford.  The picture is from a fine chunk of cheddar (that is, a cheesy horror movie) from William Castle, Straitjacket.  In the movie, Crawford plays a mother who also does not the set best example of maternity.  More than that I won’t say, though, in case you  have not seen the movie.  Perhaps it is one to screen in honor of the day.  It would also make this a Severed Head Sunday, one of my favorite kinds of Sunday.

So this is my short, silly post.  We’ll call it a Wrist to Forehead Sunday and hit publish.  I shall publish a post again tomorrow, and I hope it will not be Melancholy Monday.




A Beer or Wine with Joan?


I am  learning more about including pictures in the blog.  It is very exciting for me.  This picture was in our laptop’s downloads. I think my husband, Steven, may have used it for a profile picture last October.  It appeals to me, because I love skellingtons and I love beer.  In fact, it has not been a bad day at all.  But I am quite tired and cannot think of anything to make a blog post about.  Let’s see if there are any more fun pictures in the downloads, to make this a kind of a Wordless Wednesday post (I think we’ve already discussed that I am almost never entirely wordless) (and “Wordless Wednesday” sounds SO much more respectable than “Wuss-out Wednesday”).




This is my current Facebook profile picture.  I was having a Lizzie Borden kind of a day (another profile I’ve used is a plaque that says, “I’m having a Lizzie Borden kind of a day”).  The picture is Joan Crawford in Straitjacket, a William Castle flick and one of my favorites.  I wonder if I’ve ever written a blog post about it.  I believe I mentioned it once on Severed Head Sunday (one of my favorite days).



For our last photo of the day (I think three is a good number, don’t you?), I show you my Facebook cover photo.  It is a lovely welcome mat which was given to Steven and me by our dear friend, Bruce.  Bruce’s most frequent comment on any of my Facebook posts is, “It’s WINE TIME!!!”  I like the way he thinks.  Happy Wednesday, everybody.


MVG Goes Hollywood

Well,  let’s see if I can do this.  I’m on my tablet, trying to make my post about the costumes at the mall.  This first photo is front the Grace Kelly section.  The dress in the foreground is from Rear Window,  the background is from To Catch a Thief.

We love Rear Window.


As I have mentioned  before, it is awkward to post on the tablet. Still, one must persevere.


I was a little disappointed that the Better Davis dress was just one from an awards show.  When I had heard there would be one of her dresses there, I confess I got my hopes up for the iconic party dress from All About Eve.  Still, Bette Davis.  There could be no possible objection.

In many people’s minds Bette Davis and Joan  Crawford go together.  Both are represented here.  I liked Joan’s dress even better.


I had to take the plaque separately.

Likewise,  I needed two shots for Drums Along the Mohawk , which of course has a delightful local connection.



Many will recognize Audrey Hepburn’s dress from My Fair Lady.


We didn’t recognize the movie these costumes were from,  but we liked them.

The display continues at Sangertown Mall through tomorrow,  Oct. 29.  Sorry for giving local readers such short notice in case you want to check it out, but these things happen.  I hope at least you enjoyed my photos.  Happy Friday, everyone.


Severed Head Sunday

Spoiler Alert!  I’m going to be talking about several movies and I’m not going to worry if I give anything away.  Jaws, Strait-Jacket, Sleepy Hollow, The Brain that Wouldn’t Die.

We’re watching Jaws, because it is a good summer flick.  This is what I call relaxing movie viewing: something we’ve seen before that we can just enjoy.  Until the moment when Robert Shaw scrapes his fingernails along the chalkboard to get everybody’s attention during the big village meeting.  I cringed.

“My most UN-favorite moment of the movie,” I said.  “I don’t even mind the severed head.”

In fact, the first time I saw the severed head (you know, when Richard Dreyfus is underwater looking at the recently sunken boat), I jumped and said, “EEWW!”  But it’s a great moment in a scary movie.  Thinking about it, I came up with the title of today’s blog post.  I hope you like it as much as I do.

Last night we watched Strait-Jacket with the incomparable Joan Crawford.  This movie featured several severed heads.  It is one of my favorites.  I loved it even before I knew it was produced and directed by that master of such movies, William Castle.

Naturally I started thinking about other movies we could watch that featured severed heads.  My first thought was Sleepy Hollow, or as I like to call it, The Headless Everybody.  I told Steven we should watch some more severed head films and he said, “Like The Brain that Wouldn’t Die.”

“You’re a genius,” I said.

Ooh, as I typed all this in, the movie progressed and they are ALMOST to the moment of the severed head.  I must stop typing and watch.  As I look back on this post, I do not believe the Spoiler Alert was truly necessary.  No matter.  A couple of bold-faced words is always a good start for a blog post.  I hope you are all enjoying your Sunday as much as I am.


The Post is Cheesier than the Movie

I DVR’d Paid (1931) purely because it starred Joan Crawford. I don’t know why I do that. Back in the days of the studio system they simply ground out movies. Even the few stars that never signed or fought their contracts made a few stinkers. Then again, shouldn’t I be looking for a stinker, given my penchant for writing about cheesy movies? I thought it was a win-win situation. Turns out not so much.

Paid was made pretty early in Crawford’s career. So early, in fact, that some would say it was before she was really Joan Crawford. By that of course I mean without the famous eyebrows and shoulder pads. She already has a presence, though, or she does as the movie progresses. In the first scene she looks pretty terrible as she is sentenced to three years in prison for theft she did not commit. She shows a flash of strength as she vows revenge on the man pressing charges, the owner of the department store where she slaved away for wages that didn’t pay the bills.

They don’t waste too much time in prison, but long enough for Crawford to make a friend who promises her a way to make money when they get out. This turns out to be prostitution, which our Joan does not end up going through with. At least, she goes home with a guy but doesn’t sleep with him, so I guess it’s prostitution. You know how circumspect these old movies are about sex stuff.

After turning down an invitation to lead a different life of crime, she finds a “legal” way to make money. Suddenly she’s all self-confident and calling all the shots. And the cops are SO after her. Then the plot gets a little convoluted.

She marries this handsome rich young thing, who turns out to be — surprise to us but not to Crawford — the son of the store owner she has vowed revenge against. I guess marrying the son is her revenge. And she claims not to love him, although she can’t look him in the face when she says so.

Her crooked friends — who were never quite comfortable living on the right side of the law anyways — are conned into one last big score. Of course that is a movie staple to this day: one last big score.

This was about the time I left the room to make popcorn, leaving Steven to keep track of what was going on. It wasn’t just my usual not paying attention mode: this is a boring movie. I don’t know why. The plot actually seems pretty good. And Joan Crawford — there could be no possible objection.

I’m afraid my write-up is pretty boring too. I am in a hell of a mid-week slump and I don’t know that things are going to get any better. I look forward to Non-Sequitur Thursday and Lame Post Friday. I do hope you’ll stay tuned.

Me and Joan Crawford

The Mohawk Valley experienced some very cold temperatures yesterday. My place of employment became rather uncomfortable.

Regular readers (and WordPress tells me I have a few) know that I rarely blog about my work. It’s not that kind of a blog, and I don’t want to get in trouble with management (go ahead, call me a chicken). Well, this isn’t really about work.

I work in an old building, actually a series of old buildings all kind of hooked together. It is not very well insulated. The temperature varies from building to building and from section to section within each building. Guess which section in which building was the coldest. I suppose I can’t say for sure it was mine, because it’s really too big a place to check the whole thing out, but in my limited perambulations, where I work was cold.

Then I remembered: Joan Crawford. Joan Crawford always insisted that the sets of her movies be kept at cold temperatures, because it made the skin on her face tighter and minimized the appearance of wrinkles. I wash my face in cold water most mornings for that reason. Joan used to stick her face in a sink full of ice cubes, but that would involve a trip down to the kitchen for me and I’m too lazy to be beautiful.

Once I remembered Joan Crawford and her little beauty trick, I felt much better about everything. Of course I had to share my happiness, so I went and found my friend Sally and explained the whole thing to her.

“We’re glamorous!” I assured her. She was suitably impressed. I went back to work refreshed.

A short time later, I heard a voice exclaim, “Hey, isn’t that Joan Crawford?” It was Harry, a mutual friend of mine and Sally’s. “Wow! I thought it was Joan Crawford!”

I burst out laughing. I don’t suppose I’m hideous, but despite my earlier assurances to Sally, it was not one of my more glamorous moments. For one thing, I was wearing my knitted toque against the cold. No lipstick. My blue collar clothes of BDU pants, a t-shirt and steel toed work boots. He kept assuring me he thought it was Joan Crawford and I kept laughing. Afterwards I reflected, Harry is much younger than me. I’m not sure he knows who Joan Crawford is; he may have thought I meant Joan Collins.

The next time I had occasion to talk to Sally, I said, “I have so much in common with Joan Crawford!” She confessed to sharing my remarks with Harry, and told me a few silly things Harry had said about an unrelated topic (subject for another blog post? Watch out, Harry!).

Sometime later, I looked across at Harry and Sally and saw them pointing and laughing. I went over and demanded an explanation. It seems they were in the middle of a conversation when Harry had interrupted himself to say, “Oh my God, it’s Joan Crawford!” and I chose that moment to let out a huge, head-splitting yawn. Like I said, not my most glamorous day.

So today I told both Sally and Harry that I intended to use the episode for a blog post. I said regular readers may remember them as candidates for the role of French maid in a previous post. Harry’s one regret was that he had not picked more imaginative aliases. Perhaps Buttercup and Westley.

In conclusion, I think now we all know why I so rarely blog about my work. Happy Friday, everyone.