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I have lots to catch you up on but work is kicking my ass these days. Tales of TequilaCon await you. In the meantime, I thought I'd continue my efforts to be helpful and answer a question that brought a visitor here. Since your Google search couldn't quite help you, dear user, I will gladly put in the extra effort.

Q: Who sings "Shootin' at the Walls of Hearty [sic]"?

A: Scandal is the name of the band and the song is called "The Warrior." Oh and psst! The actual lyric is "Shootin' at the walls of heartache." Don't feel bad. I've got a post devoted to my lyrical fuck-ups. Hell, there's an entire book on the subject.

Ain't I helpful? Oh, and because I'm so sweet (and tres Rain Man-like with the pop culture references), I'll throw in a few freebies for you:

Scandal was fronted by the smoky-voiced Patty Smyth who is married to one John McEnroe, who, I'll have you know, was the inspiration for my Halloween costume two years ago. Anyhoo, the curly-haired-tantrum-throwing tennis player divorced Tatum O'Neal (daughter of Ryan and foe of Farrah) who became a big ol' druggie after winning an Oscar for Paper Moon at the ripe old age of 10 (I do believe).

Tatum also starred in one of my all-time favorite movies, The Bad News Bears. It was one of the few movies she made that I was actually allowed to watch unsupervised as a kid. Although, the line about Amanda being on The Pill was always a bit of a sore spot, come to think of it...

Little Darlings, on the other hand, was all sorts of forbidden in the McDimple household. However, that didn't stop us McDimple girls from secretly huddling around the small black-and-white TV in my oldest sister's room and watching the cleaned-up version on broadcast television.

Back in the day, Channel 9 was pretty good about showing movies like that on a Saturday afternoon, whereas Channel 11 aired shit like Clash of the Titans and Clint Eastwood movies. There was a glorious spell where you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a John Hughes movie but, alas, there were just as many airings of Commando and The Beastmaster to contend with. Thank God for digital cable.

But as I was saying, once holed up in my sister's room, we took turns guarding the door and listening for approaching footsteps. My oldest sister became VERY good at diving towards the television and changing the channel in one swift motion just before the parents entered the room. She'd always end up on her stomach in a pose that looked surprisingly relaxed and natural. It was quite remarkable.

Now, while she had the channel-changing technique down pat, her choice of station often left much to be desired. "Why are you girls watching bowling?" my father incredulously asked one day. But, in her defense, her Russian Roulette-like channel surfing landed on MASH quite a few times, which was a very believable ruse. We actually liked MASH. By the by, this sister was also highly skilled at hiding her trashy romance novels. She kept the tamer V.C. Andrews books on display but the more salacious ones could not be found. Trust me, I tried.

Ahem. So, um, in summary, Scandal is what you're looking for, errant Googler. You're most welcome. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to add Little Darlings to my Netflix queue. Oooh, while I'm there, I might as well tack on Porky's, Body Heat, Prizzi's Honor and all the other forbidden films of my youth. Foiled again, Mama McDimple. Foiled again!