If I don’t have "Cry-Baby" on continuous loop, then it’s pretty much just a wasted day for me.
I think the movie is an acquired taste. I watched it once in college and was unimpressed and, to be frank, a little creeped out. I watched it again in China. And again. And again. And again.
When I got back to the Mother Country, my Chinese DVD didn’t work in my American DVD player. I distracted myself with other things, like sleep, alcohol, drugs, murder and mayhem — writing about them for a living, that is. I even wrote about sleep today.
When Netflix issued discs to allow Instant Play through the Wii, I was delighted to find out how easily it worked and how there isn’t a limit on the number of times I can watch "Cry-Baby."
"Maybe Cry-Baby can sing, something cool. Something…hep."
"And WHERE did you learn those vulgar jazz words?"