mr-onion's Diaryland Diary

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Off the Wall

O I hate getting nostalgic, it makes me feel like I should be buying twenty cats and another polyester Mrs. Roper housecoat (with a rockin' faux pearl zipper pull).

After watching Michael Jackson's Number Ones on VH1....I guess I am one of those old farts that remember their youth wistfully (with a little wiff of urine about their person).

The day "Off the Wall" was released was the day I fell in love with music. I danced to "Rock With You" and "Don't stop Til You Get Enough" over and over, spinning round in circles on my parents' shag carpet until I was sick. I had no friends at my new school so I would spend all of my time workin' on my dance moves for that fated day in the near future when they would ask me to be a Solid Gold dancer. Gold glitter spray glinting off afro's, Dionne Warwick and her 8 inch stick-on-nails...

That was an awesome time to be alive, even though I don't remember much about that era because of the massive sugar intake: hunks of rock candy as big as my foot, baker's chocolate, pixie sticks, tootsie rolls, and one unfortunate day while scrounging through the cupboards for a can of Duncan Hines chocolate frosting and finding nothing sugary but also noticing a friendly blue box of something with the word "chocolate" on the label that turned out to be chocolate Ex-Lax.....ahhhh good times.

This reminds me of something Diane told me after her year spent teaching English in Turkey. I went to visit her in Istanbul for a couple weeks and she'd dated a few of the local boys. She advised me that while sex with the natives was awesome ("They're so into it, and so enthusiastic" - she smugly revealed to me - "because the Turkish girls don't give head")- it was also practically impossible to date someone with different cultural references.

In some eerie shallow way, yeah, I couldn't date anyone who had no idea what Gilligan's Island was...or had never heard Neil Diamond sing "Cracklin' Rose you're a store bought woman but you make me sing like a guitar humming"....or didn't recognize "This Beat is Technotronic"...that's just not right in my book. So I guess by a roundabout process of thought I've found my dating deal breakers...so no more himbo's who make me listen to Tool, I promise.

Though a teeny tiny part of me wishes she could be a teenager today so that I could identify with THESE board games.

8:07 p.m. - 2004-08-26

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