My age is beginning to get to me.
Not because I feel anywhere near the age I actually am,
but because, when people ask me how old I'm going to be on my birthday
and I tell them
they always, always, ALWAYS ask,
"what was it like....in the 80s?"
Well, people, I'm here to tell you... it was UGLY.
There were those shoulder pads.
Everyone smoked Players cigarettes
and wore leather jackets.
"Frankie Say: RELAX"
Neon yellow puffy paint.
Baggy jeans that were too short AND tight at the ankle.
AIDS.
"I'm just a Gigolo"
and that movie about the whore that every man fell in love with.
We won't even talk about ass pants
(for my son's sake)
(OK, now I have to explain - blue jeans so worn-out that the ass had rips -
and I WORE BOXER SHORTS OR MEN'S LONGJOHNS UNDERNEATH - I SWEAR)
Short, spiky hair.
Advertising.
Party, party & more party time.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead"
My high school yearbook shows way too much BIG hair,
too many girls with too much eye makeup
and a severe shortage of good taste.
Me? I wore levis 501s and my grandfather's old suit jackets.
Converse high tops.
Shopped resale.
Bowling shirts, wife beaters, doc martins.
Carried a messenger bag. Dated a messenger.
Ate butterscotch candies
Bought swatch watches and wore the box.
Everyone thought I was weird.
I did have feathered hair, but you can forgive me that.
Right?
(Oh, no, I wonder if they saw the lime green dress)
(I wore that to Frankie Goes to Hollywood open for Power Station)
(Oh, Damn)
Please?
(*Name that 80s movie - be the first to tell me who said it and what movie it came from and I'll send you a monkey. I love monkeys...)
