A few of you* enjoy teasing me because of my age and because I missed all of the 80's. It's not that I wasn't alive, it's that I don't remember much of it, my earliest memory being the day before my first day of kindergarten in September of 1988. Let's just say that I did make the occasional fashion faux pas in the 80's, but at least I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was forced to dress that way. I didn't voluntarily sport Wranglers, or big hair, or puffy sleeves**. Someone, made me do this, and since Peg isn't one that you'd eagerly want to fuck with, it seemed to be in my best interest to just listen. Which is how one ends up looking like this:
Though I must say it's not that bad. As I just sat behind a little girl on the way back from Atlanta, with a shirt that said on the back "Daddy's little redneck" complete with a picture of a confederate cap with a confederate flag. Apparently it takes some people a little time to get over the loss of the Civil War.
It's so nice to be home.
*Don't make me name names.
**Seriously, don't make me do it, you know who you are.