old artifacts

On my quest to purge my apartment of crap I no longer need, I keep  wasting lots of time inspecting old artifacts:

1.  Very important letters from friends written during 11th grade Course III Math.

2.  My dad’s very suave butter fly collared polyester plaid long sleeved shirt, that I wore out until junior year in college when my suite mate asked, “Are you really wearing THAT?  Again?”

3.  Sting’s Ten Summoner’s Tales CD from 1994.  Okay, so <i>If I ever Lose My Faith in You</i> and “Fields of Gold” were overplayed back then.  But I’d just like to say, I effin’ loved <i>Love is Stronger Than Justice</i>, <i>Heavy Clouds(No Rain)</i>, <i>She’s Too Good For Me</i>, <i>Seven Days</i>, and even <i>Saint Augustine in Hell</i>.

Once Naked For Nirvana

I heard this on the way to class tonight and got a little misty. If this kid is going on 18, THAT means I’m…shit.

…before you know it I’m going to be driving an Iroc-Z, teasing my bangs, pouring myself into a pair of pleather hip huggers, and pretending that I’m not getting old.

Naked Men

When I was a freshman in college I knew two girls from Long Island. The rest of us kind of thought they were a little rough around the edges and took to calling them “The Guidos.” The Guidos didn’t really like this at first and threatened to kick our asses a few times before we convinced them that it was a compliment.

We, of course, inevitably became part of their little posse. They made up a fake sorority (I think it was Sigma Delta Guido), which we had to (fake) pledge to be part of. One of the dares was to walk to the news stand downtown and purchase a copy of Play Girl.  I, being the chickenshit smartass, took on the dare, then proceeded in paying another (non-pledging) friend to go get it.

For the next week we posted naked men on our dorm room doors with DIY thought bubbles.

Good times.