This one's for my girlfriends who were teenagers in the 80s, my big-haired Gen X comrades-in-legwarmers, my fellow teenyboppers, a delightfully shrill roving army on rollerskates that launched the careers of our Tiger Beat Star boyfriends.Oh yes, Rick Springfield, nee Springthorpe of Australia with the pouty lips and the bull terrier named Ronnie that you put on all your album covers, you're nothing without us! Same for you, Johnny Depp, Will Smith and all of these dreamboats whose faces wallpapered our bedroom walls. Pulpy pin-ups clipped from from magazines, all coiffed and pouting and posing along with deathly important articles such as, "Be The Girl Who Understands Him Best!" Let's call it something dumb that fits the topic, like Lexi's List of 80s Crushes Who Are Aging Gracefully.
Two weeks ago I had a chance to meet one of my favorites, writer and public radio personality Peter Sagal. I was at a marketing conference, and to my utter delight I found that Mr. Sagal was going to deliver the final keynote.
Invited this guy to share my table at Panera, since it's a 4-top and has an outlet.
Dude's been absentmindedly kicking the table leg for like two hours.
Trying to write here, Kicky McJitters, how about switching to decaf, son?