Stuck In The ’80s.

I got a bit of an eerie feeling this afternoon that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. Or perhaps it's more correct to say that I wasn't sure I was when I was supposed to be.

I was making my weekly jaunt around the village (yes, I jaunt on a regular basis...you should, too!) to distribute the latest issue of the paper to the newsstands, and on my last stop, I walked behind a parked car that had a "Baby On Board" sign suctioned to its rear window.

Haven't seen one of those in quite a few years.

That was enough of a blast from the past all on its own, but...as I got back in the company van and started to back out of my stall next to the car with the "Baby On Board" sign, I noticed that..."Jesse's Girl" was playing on the radio.

(Brief Parenthetical Aside No. 1: When I was in high school, I had a "Tennis Player On Board" sign in my car window. Um...why?? Was it to alert other drivers that it was OK to yell, "Go, Ivan Lendl!!" or "Mats Wilander rocks!" as they met me on the roadways?)

I quickly checked myself in the mirror to make sure I wasn't sporting a mullet and didn't have my shirt collar turned up, and drove back to the office.

Tonight when I got home, I had an overwhelming urge to play with my Rubik's Cube and crank some Flock of Seagulls on my stereo.

(Brief Parenthetical Aside No. 2: Did anyone else notice that a certain mega-super-humungo retail chain that begins with "Wal-" and ends with "-tons are so damn rich, why do they have to build another damn store right in my neighborhood??" had an obnoxiously large display of Rubik's Cubes in their aisles last holiday season? Are they making a comeback? Have they ever left?)

I really hope when I wake up tomorrow I'm back where I belong, and that I don't have to write my next blog entry on this Commodore 64.

"The 1980s are to debt
what the 1960s were to sex.
The 1960s left a hangover.
So will the 1980s."
—James Grant