My folks are once again setting up camp in Greenwich Village for the Spring. I think that after 35 years of modifying her career to accommodate everyone else, my mother's finally cashing in her Trump card and enjoying a renaissance. Sadly, this means my brother and I will inherit a handful of nickels, but you should see my mom skipping around New York. It completes her.
Thus, I get to camp out at the compound, my childhood home nestled on a mountain with a stocked fridge, a sunny veranda and premium cable, not to mention some seriously amazing WiFi. Melissa and Tara trekked over from the city and last night, we enjoyed a well planned slumber party. I made THIS and THIS, which we placed on trays and brought up to the TV Room.
For those that are new to I'll Flip You, the TV Room in an uninsulated, kinda janky, very popular room at the highest point of this big treehouse, home to the big television, every Gourmet Magazine from 1986 and the most massive denim couch on earth. It's where my father goes to smoke his pipe with a cocktail and PBS on rainy nights. And it's where Tara plunked down 3 dinner plates, dolling out macaroni and cheese as she kneeled on the floor.
And, in stereotypical 30-something fashion, in sweat pants and food stains, the three of us watched the Lifetime Movie Network until 2am. We began with an unexpected discovery which we've been talking about since it ended 16 hours ago, Wife, Mother, Murderer: The Marie Hilley Story. You can watch the entire thing RIGHT HERE.
Please. Do yourself the favor. Watch it. Especially if you're gay.
In Wife, Mother, Murderer: The Marie Hilley Story, Judith light plays Marie who kills her first husband in Anniston, Alabama for $30,000 in life insurance, then tries to kill her daughter by feeding her arsenic paste. Or, if you're Tara, you'd say, "She's trying to kill her daughter vis-a-vis arsenic paste!" Tara says vis-a-vis a lot, and it cracks me up every time. The cops catch on to Marie and her plans for low-end insurance schemes so she fakes her own kidnapping, including randsom notes and shady hotel rooms, and flees to Florida.
There, she falls in love with this big schlub, or as Mel called him, a "mook" who she ropes into marrying her and taking her to New Hampshire, all over a very uncomfortable first date. Once in New Hampshire, after re-decorating everything in "peach", she tries to get a job that doesn't really work out, fakes a weight gain and illness and goes to Dallas by herself, even though this pathetic mook of a husband is desperate to tag along. She convinces him not to come along and she's off alone. Soon, someone sends word back to New Hampshire that Marie is dead. But who should fly in to explain everything to the mook? Why, it's her identical twin sister she forgot to mention! (At this point, we began to applaud.)
The twin sister seduces the mook in a foul toe-sucking scene (Oh, Lifetime, you're too much) and basically takes off where her sister left off. But one of those bitches from the job that didn't work out is onto Marie's schemes. Bitch calls the cops, cops arrest Marie, Marie goes to jail.
Do the credits roll?
Lord, no. On a 3-day furlow with the mook, who now knows there was no identical twin and doesn't particularly seem to care because he's busy buying biscuits and gravy, Marie escapes from their shitty hotel room, lives for three days in the woods and finally crawls to the crappy sceen door of her estranged mother where she dramatically dies.
The mook, as we learn in the epilogue, stays on at the crappy hotel from the furlow, becomes a caretaker and dies 2 years later in a "bizarre robbery/murder."
Oh, and this is a true story.
Again, you can watch it all HERE.
I have never laughed so hard in my life, curled up in the TV Room and howling at Melissa's need to call jail "the pokey" and Tara, who as most horrified that, "She's wearing a burgundy top and what is that? Pink pants!"
We stayed up to watch Amber Frey: Witness for the Prosecution and finally, Top Gun.
We spent the morning with magazines and coffee on the deck, discussing that asshole in Austria who raped his daughter in the basemesnt for 20 years. We eventually made our way to a sunny brunch in Sausalito, meeting up with Matthew and regaling him with Wife, Mother, Murderer: The Marie Hilley Story.
As I drove back up to the house, vis-a-vis the back roads, I realized that I am finally and truly sober and old. My closest girlfriends and I have somehow managed to go from causing scenes over our 13th martini at Le Club to gufawing at Lifetime in my parents' house.
Yet somehow, I'm shocked to report...this is more fun.