Saturday, October 03, 2009

Patrick Swayze -- A Delinquent Tribute

In the summer between my junior and senior years of college, I lived in an apartment in Charlottesville with my sister. She had just graduated from UVA and was working at CVS because she was an English major wasn't ready to enter the real world yet.

I was working a minimum wage job and taking a statistics class, hoping to get a "C" so that it would transfer without being figured into my (already horrific) GPA at JMU.

What does this have to do with Patrick Swayze, you ask? Just everything. My sister had a bunch of friends that she had met while working at the radio station at UVA. And to a person, they were (and are) the funniest bunch of people I have ever met. That summer, we'd just hang out at the apartment, drinking whatever beer our minimum wage salaries would afford us, and talk and laugh for hours. One of the things we laughed about? The defacement of albums at the radio station.

At the time, the Dirty Dancing sound track was huge, and much to everyone's chagrin, the Program Manager had put it in the rotation to play every hour. In retaliation, one of the crew had taken a little creative license with the Dirty Dancing album cover at the station. Immediately after the song title, "She's like the wind," for instance, he had penciled in "from my ass." And on the front of the album, where Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey were embracing, someone had artistically added a thought bubble from his head with the words, "that is not my finger" and a thought bubble from her head with the words, "that is not my belly button."

Also, on the Billy Ocean 12 inch single album (where he was wearing a long white leather coat and looking totally pimped out), our friend, Sean, simply added a period and a comma to make the album title, "Billy Ocean. 12 inch, single." Which, if guys were smart, would be the title of their Match.com profiles.

All of this to say: RIP, Patrick Swayze. I'm really glad it wasn't her belly button.

19 comments:

Sean Scully said...

Ah, those were the days, when we could spend hours debating whether or not it is the responsibility of a rock radio station to educate its listeners (those that said Yes invariable argued that we should be playing more Strawberry Alarm Clock, those that said no responded "Who?") And we spent an inordinate amount of time, between doodling on the album covers, pondering whether the Marshall Tucker band should be filed under "M" for Marshal Tucker Band or "T" for Tucker, Marshall. Never have figured out of that was a real guy or not.

Sean Scully said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sean Scully said...

Oh, and there was general agreement that Patrick Swayze was a decent if uninspiring singer. Hell of a guy, though, I am sure.

Brutalism said...

I also remember calling in sometimes and either requesting songs or chatting with whichever DJ was on duty. That was a fun summer. And not just because I ate an entire pound of roast beef one night. That I had cooked directly on the burner.

Sean Scully said...

Yes. I still get hell from your sister, 21 years later, for not preventing you from cooking chicken legs directly on the burner, but instead wandering into the living room in a leisurely fashion, flopping down on the couch and saying "You wouldn't believe what Kathy is doing in the kitchen." Which, of course, sent your sister hurtling into the kitchen like a rocket.

Brutalism said...

I love your nonchalance. Hilarious to this day. No sense of urgency, whatsoever...I coulda burned the whole place down.

Anonymous said...

This just made me laugh out loud. I'm all for album defacing and infantile humour. When that stops being funny, it's time to die. :)

Also, isn't it funny that when you're young, broke and scraping by, you often have the most fun times of your life?

I will never see that DD album ever again anywhere without laughing.

Brutalism said...

VA - My husband, who came into the picture at least 10 years after this incident, will occasionally bump into me in the kitchen or something and say, "That's not my finger" -- it really never stops being funny.

Brutalism said...

And yes...the young, scraping by times where all you could afford was hanging out in someone's apartment were definitely the most fun.

dilettante07 said...

I was not yet of beer drinking age when the moving came out. I was full force in the awkward pre-teen stage. As such, I identified rather strongly with Baby and spent some hard earned babysitting dough on sheet music. Practicing night and day (really more like 15 minutes here and there, but hyperbole is always the absolute best), I learned to play "She's Like the Wind" and would play it over and over, pretending Patrick was singing about me.

I bet I would've loved that radio station...and hated you punks for ruining my song.

Brutalism said...

Tante -- What a sweet story. I'm sure you'll always be like the wind from Patrick's ass...

dilettante07 said...

Dare to dream, Brut, dare to dream.

Dilettard07 said...

Ah, the days of student radio. I got one of my buddies in trouble because I requested something by the Angry Samoans that had interesting lyrics.

Just because I requested it did not mean he had to play it. But thanks, Sundy.

dori said...

if it wasn't his finger, what was it???

dori said...

further, I had the "Marshall Tucker" problem with PJ Harvey when I worked at a music store. P for PJ Harvey? H for Harvey, PJ? I ended up filing her under F for fucking awesome.

Brutalism said...

Dori...it was his thumb, silly.
I totally would have looked under "F" for PJ Harvey.

Lisa said...

Whenever the song come on, Bob sings in his most sincere Swayze way, "She's breaking wind..."
Makes me giggle each time. Aaah, fart jokes.

Brutalism said...

Lisa - I can picture Bob doing that. I love it. (If someone had told me that having kids meant a steady stream of poop and fart jokes, I might have started sooner...)

The Absurdist said...

I took a 4hr road trip this past weekend with my wife and 2 year old son and after an hour or so he started getting a bit cranky in the back seat. (I would too if you strapped me into a confining chair that I couldn't figure out how to escape) Being the good Dad that I am I would turn around (quickly - I'm an excellent driver, on sunday, in the driveway) and make fart or burp noises at him. My wife was less than thrilled.

I have great news little guy: bodily noises and functions only get funnier as you get older. We're going to have a lot of fun torturing your mother with this. Now, if I can just teach you a good Dr. Evil impression.....