Continuing an informal series in odes to local video stores, count this one as a shoutout to Vulcan Video. But we’ll get to that. First: I should have been British. I hold this truth to be as self-evident as the restorative powers of a half-pint of Tamale House hot sauce. Granted, I tried living in England once, a brief summer blip interning for what would eventually be known as the house that built Harry Potter (the movie), Heyman Films, and what I took away from those few months, aside from the added pub weight, was the realization that I, like Jo from Little Women, am not fashionable enough for London. And yet, I stand resolved: There’s a tavern in some sleepy burg, where everyone is plumpish and bad-toothed, and in that tavern there is a pint, forever full and frothy, with my name on it. How do I know this? Let me count the ways. It started with an early, unhealthy obsession with the British royalty and their yen for dismantling a head from a body. Eventually, I maturated to a love affair with Brit film – especially Winterbottom – and all things BBC. The comedies – like the original, impossibly squirming Office (as much as I love Pam and Jim, until their affair plays out to Yaz, they’ll never hold a candle) and Spaced, which finally gets a DVD release in July (watch this space) – and the dramas: glorious corseted stuff by way of Austen and Trollope. And then the mysteries. I’ll run screaming from any hint of real horror (case in point: I quivered through a mere half-hour of next week’s release The Strangers before I bolted for the exit), but give me a fuddy-wuddy Marple Mystery or cool-cat Inspector Lynley and I’m a happy camper.

While we are of the opinion that Molly Ringwald peaked early with Facts of Life and never did much of anything after to impress us, we are a big fan of bad prom dresses and cancer research, and thus we heartily recommend you to GrapeVine Market's Pretty in Pink 80's Prom this Saturday. The evening includes a silent auction, dancing, and an outdoor screening of the classic John Hughes film. Pretty in Pink is just one of many in a list of essential girl movies that we never got the appeal of (see also: Sixteen Candles, Grease, Labyrinth); frankly, we were bored to tears by professional whinester Molly Ringwald and the yawning, super-posh Andrew McCarthy. (We much prefer his existential-lite wounded writer in St. Elmo's Fire, the love theme to which forever sets off a Pavlovian lifting of our spirits. "Man in Motion" is pretty terrific, too.) That said: Jon Cryer's Pretty in Pink record-store rock-out to "Try a Little Tenderness" is one for the ages. GrapeVine's 80's Prom also includes a crowning of Prom King and Queen, so here's your chance to rewrite history. Unless you already won in high school, in which case, we suggest you stop hogging all the glory. Some of us were late bloomers, you know. The Pretty in Pink 80's Prom takes place 7-11pm, Saturday, May 24, at GrapeVine Market. Tickets are $10 per person in advance and $15 dollars at the door. All proceeds benefit Susan G. Komen for the Cure Austin. Go here for more info.

Casting is now under way for a new Logo reality show, Drag Race, hosted by none other than the queen of fabulous, RuPaul. Press materials call for “talented and gorgeous drag queens and their best friend/stylist/drag slave from across the nation to compete in the ultimate first ever televised reality drag competition.” As a confirmed reality show hater, even I have to admit that I would tune into this show once it hits the small screen. The competition is open to any drag queen 21 years of age or older. Details on how to apply can be found at http://dragrace.popularproductions.net/.

It's good to know that less than 24 hours after all hell broke loose, weather-wise, Austin's weirdness remains at an all time high, cinematically, at least. Seriously: Last night we watched a clearly messed-with and un-nice Mother Nature uproot a three-story oak not 15 feet from our living room window while hail the size and density of Idaho very nearly punched holes clean through our ceiling. And tonight? Tonight we get to watch a hickoid necrophile with a serious case of the Oedipals deconstruct femininity and the mother-son relationship in an entirely non-theoretical fashion. Not literally, of course, although we're pretty sure that could be arranged via a quick trip to either Elysium or Bastrop. Nah, we're talking about the Alamo Ritz's Terror Thursday screening of Jeff Gillen and Alan Ormsby's 1974 Ed Gein-inspired psychobilly freakout Deranged. Ormsby owns a special place in our heart. He scripted Bob "A Christmas Story" Clark's 1972 zombies-versus-pretentious-hippies-in-vertically-striped-flares epic, Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, which was the first drive-in movie we ever saw in an actual drive-in, back when speaker posts (and flares) were all the rage. We were all of ten years old when some seriously misguided and/or sadistic relatives took us the re-release and thereby insured our future in horror film geekery. Needless to say, we've dug hell out of zombies and flares ever since (funny how they both keep coming back, isn't it?), although at the time we're pretty sure we ended up cowering in the back seat, shrieking like a ten year old. Go figure.

Henri Mazza was working late at the Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar when all meteorological hell broke last night. Naturally curious, Henri and his production assistant, Caitlin Stevens, along with about 20 moviegoers straggling out of the late show of Iron Man, decided to check out the storm from the, er, safety of the glass-lined lobby. We'll let Henri tell the rest: "We don’t know if it was hail hitting the windows, wind, air pressure, or what, but three big panels exploded at the same time. Fortunately we had smarter staff than I in there telling people to get away from the windows, and the small crowd of Iron Man audience members was spread around, moving away from the glass and back towards the main hallway. I was still in the lobby by Mondo Tees when it shattered, though, and apparently it’s just dumb luck that no one was hurt – this morning there was glass embedded in the mural on the wall opposite, and a shard of the window took out one of our ordering computers at the lobby bar." Dumb luck, 1; Hailstorm, 0 Well, maybe more of a draw.

Agnes Varnum was kind enough to alert us to two wildly different, but distinctly cool-sounding screenings that the Austin Film Society's putting on in the very new future. First up to bat is the Paramount premiere of Rick Linklater's Inning by Inning: A Portrait of a Coach, his feature documentary about beloved UT men's baseball coach Augie Garrido, the winningest coach in NCAA history. The show's on June 3, and proceeds will benefit in part the Boys and Girls Club. The second is a Rolling Roadshow sneak of the Duplass Brothers' Baghead out at Hamilton Pool – certain to up the creep-out factor to the comedy/horror hybrid. The Duplasses will be on hand for the event, where there'll be campfire snacks available for purchase. Want s'more? (Sorry, we couldn't resist.) Advance tickets for the June 12 show are available here, along with details about the limited number of 4-course dinner VIP tickets available. Incidentally, Baghead will open in Austin theatres on June 13, in advance of New York and L.A. Because that's the kind of trendsetting town we call home …

My apologies to the fine folks at 2K Sports in taking so long to post my review of their baseball sim MLB 2K8, but honestly it has taken me this long to try and figure out their new pitching mechanism. This glitch-ridden and almost unusable new mechanic makes playing this game as frustrating as your worst workday of the year. After a month or so of trying to get this new technique down and throwing countless "meatballs" I simply gave up and reverted to last year's pitching scheme. The new system is supposed to mimic how the actual pitch is thrown but has a serious learning curve and flat out doesn't work most of the time. Unless I am a complete idiot (which is debatable), I would have to imagine that most other gamers have had the same experience with this piece of crap "improvement." The new fielding mechanism isn't much better and the new batting system only works on the power swing and doesn't even respond to the contact swing. Lame!

I wandered into the Movie Store on Saturday night with an itchy, already defeated feeling. I didn't know what I wanted, and walking into a video store without knowing what you want is like the inverse of going to the grocery store hungry. Instead of everything looking good, nothing looks good. Unless, of course, you wander in to find the Movie Store is unloading its entire VHS inventory, for super-cheap, and instead of having to make one decision, you can make ten instead.** At $3 per tape, I felt a little bit kid-in-a-candy-store... and at five tapes for $10, I figured it'd be like throwing money away to stop at four... and with those kind of savings, why not really make a go of it? (I might gently lean toward compulsiveness. I'm also seriously regretting not adding The Pirate Movie to the pile.)

The tables are turning on local documentarian (and SXSW 08 alum) David Modigliani, who'll be in Crawford this weekend scouting locations for his upcoming Rolling Roadshow screening of Crawford, his intimate portrait of a town turned upside down by Dubya. So it's not entirely coincidental that Modigliani will be there this weekend – in case you hadn't heard, a certain First Daughter is getting hitched. Naturally, the national media's setting up camp in Crawford – and a few of 'em are turning the camera on Modigliani ("a taste of my own medicine," he told me). MSNBC will air a live interview with him at 9:40am on Saturday; while Inside Edition will run a segment on the film on Monday. The New York Times also plans to run a story in Monday's edition.