SUCKER PUNCH

So I went to my neighborhood Mass Meeting last night. How did it go? Well, remember when you were a kid and you'd come riding your banana seat bike home after being at your friends all day, having a great time and thinking all was well in your teeny tiny world? Totally carefree and oblivious to any angry black clouds on the horizon, you'd be chomping on your bubble gum, and bust through the front doors, only to be plowed in the gut by a sucker punch from a sibling, MORE THAN EAGER to be the bearer of bad news, that went something like this..."Aaahhhhhmmmmmmmmm. You are in sooooooo muuuuucchhh truuuuuubbbblllllllle. They are sooooooooo maaaaaaaad at yooooooouuu."

So, yeah. It was the political version of that. And the oblivious child is the incumbent.

There is an uprising taking place, folks. And just like the rock group Twisted Sister stated so profoundly, "They're not gonna take it...anymooore." Course, the delegates said it without a curly platinum wig and blue triangle eyeshadow, so we'll just have to wait and see if it has the same impact.

Speaking of Twisted Sister, let's take a happy little jaunt down memory lane together, as I'm in charge of my High School Alumni assembly. Mm hmm. Hugs and kisses to Janine for that one. So I just spent several hours watching a 26 year old video. And I am filled to overflowing with vintage mirth! I'm just gonna throw out a few morsels, for you to munch on...

High waisted, painted on, button fly, 501 shrink-to-fit-jeans. You really did wash them, and they shrunk up several sizes, and then you'd lay on the bed to button them up, eventually breaking every last belt loop trying to hike them over your love handles because, by da%$, you were NOT going to get the bigger size, because the waist measurement was actually ANNOUNCED FOR THE WORLD TO SEE ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE PANTS! Genius marketing on that one.

Boy's Muscle T's, that were hacked off right above the hairy part of the belly button. Yup. Meant to accentuate their "trail to happiness" (a disgusting reference probably from some cruddy teen movie back then) but really only managing to gross out girls.

Hair parted down the center of the head and "feathered" with a comb. No such thing as gel, mousse or "product." Only Miss Clairol and Aqua Net. We were hair pioneers.

Perms. On everyone. And picks.

Short shorts. On boys.

Hacky Sack. Played best while wearing the hacked off muscle T and high waisted button fly.

Safety Dance. Performed by the really cool Senior boys while they wore Varna sunglasses.

Now, I know it looks as though I'm mocking the ways of the 80's. And I am. But there were good times caught up amongst those Togas and mullets. Like State Football Playoffs. And my very own beautiful sister being crowned Homecoming Queen. Also, the Fag-ettes, which was a VERY POLITICALLY CORRECT~OBVIOUSLY~group of jocks, dressed up in mini-skirt drill team uniforms, performing jump splits and high kicks for screaming and adoring audiences on every possible occasion. I wipe a proud tear.

Back to sucker punches to the gut...I told my kids that I wore high waisted pants and they'd most likely be coming back around.

They threw up in their mouths.

I told them to get used to the taste.

Nothin' quite as much fun as being the bearer of bad news. And that's why I'm a delegate.