'let's all get up and dance to a song that was a hit before your mother was born'
When I was growing up, my bedroom was a purple shrine to all things Duran Duran. Every square inch of the four walls was covered with posters purchased from Coach House Gifts and pinups extracted with surgical precision from BOP magazine. I believe it's safe to say every girl who came of age in the 1980s who had a pulse probably lived in a bedroom like mine.
During the course of my obsession, which is, I'm not going to lie, still sort of with me, my mother was forced to listen to 'Rio' more times than should be legal under some sort of UN treaty. Every time she'd enter my room, she'd ask, "Now, which one is Simon?" and "How come three of them have Taylor for a last name, but they're not related?" and I'd answer "My future husband" and "Some weird twist of fate," and then further educate her on these and all other things pop culture, and I was sure I'd done a pretty good job teaching her. Before I moved away, my mother was aware of Madonna and knew that we shouldn't make eye contact any time she passed by my room as Prince's "Darling Nikki" was blaring from the stereo. I was proud of the pop culture student she'd become.
Cut to this week when mom stopped by my house to give me something she'd found in my old bedroom.
- Swimming (if for no other reason than it forces me to shave my legs)
- Finding my INXS Live Baby Live DVD while cleaning and wasting the rest of the afternoon watching it because gah! And swoon! That sea of bodies freaks me out.
- Stumbling across Improv - Ice Starring Styx on TV this weekend. Figure skating to the music of Styx as performed by the remaining member(s) of Styx? Bring me the cheese!
- The kind elderly lady who, when I found a book for her today, said, "Cool. Bless your heart!" I needed that.
- Additionally, the young woman who asked "Where is your erotica?" The word 'erotica' makes me skeevily happy.
- Saving a ton with coupons. I'm not extreme, but I'm damn efficient.
- Speaking of my mom, the way she pronounces 'quesadilla.' She doesn't pronounce it as it should be, but rather she's straight up Napoleon Dynamite-style when she says it, and she doesn't even realize she's wrong! I love it.
- Finally, and without remorse, giving up on The Jersey Shore. No more!
- Finishing 'The Leftovers' by Tom Perrotta. It's not erotica, but it's good.