Don't mess with me, I have particularly potent voodoo powers.

BEHOLD.

Oh, fellow children of the 80's, mourn with me: a little piece of Roadhouse has died. Sadly, it was not Patrick Swayze, but let's all just be grateful it wasn't Wade Garrett.

There's a part in High Fidelity that points out for pop culture obsessives, it's not what someone's like, but what they like, that determines whether you're going to get along.

I used to believe this so firmly that if someone mentioned enjoying, say, the Spice Girls, I would immediately break up with them and never call again. Sorry, Jen. BUT YOU CAN'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU.

Ahem.

I got older, discovered the joys of singing Bon Jovi in a darkened room with a crew of other drunken idiots, and loosened up a little. To the point where people can freely mention their desire to go see Meet The Spartans and I conspicuously fail to batter them to death with all the immediately available loose objects to hand.

I'm holding on to two things, though. Not so much as a discriminating factor of to whom I condescend; more as a "someone who enjoys this cannot take themselves seriously enough to be a total asshole, all the time". The only remaining uncertainty for me is whether you have to read them as a kid to enjoy them as an adult.

1. The Princess Bride: I accept both the novel and the movie.

2. Bridge of Birds: I bet you never even heard of this.

That second one requires both a) a sense of humour and b) the ability to find hard to find books. Sure, it's unrestrained orientalism/chinoiserie, but it's solid gold. Assuming you are comfortable with prolepsis as defined in the book. Most of the poetry is even real. Go on, buy a copy, then let me know if we're still friends.