So I was so delighted to read Molly's reminiscence of John Hughes in yesterday's Guardian: I've been thinking about him since he died, and at the weekend we watched The Breakfast Club (obviously for like the umpteenth time in our lives) and felt sad, but uplifted. And also, what an innocent era the 80s was: Alison (Ally Sheedy) would be a self-harming Emo, and Molly (Claire) would have anorexia (or be a Mean Girl, or both), and John Bender (Judd) would be doing serious drugs, he'd be like the guys from the Wire, and Andrew (Emilio) would be on serious (sports) drugs, and Brian (Anthony Michael Hall) would be... well, no one would be as nice, or endearing. That's for sure.
But Molly, please. I googled, because I thought, we've not been in (metaphorical) touch for a while, and I caught up. You have a five year old daughter. You're married to someone called Piano who has not quite got the hang of either Twitter or hosting his own website, but hey, he's got a cool name. You just had twins in July (can't help thinking, woman over 40 - could be IVF?). You still have red hair.
But Molly, Molly, Molly. It's the interweb era. We all know if you sell the exact same story to the New York Times (login with sashablog / sashablog). Or, the other way around: that was Wednesday, the Guardian is Thursday / Friday. We all find out.
Doesn't mean I don't think Pretty in Pink is like the coolest film ever. But, please, get with the programme.