Boy toy

There was something off about you. You tried to cover up the truth, but we dared to look beneath the spandex. ¡Ay, caramba! ¿Señor Ken, qué pasó? ¿Donde están sus cojones? Barbie, you got some 'splainin' to do!

I Heart Ralph

It was Spring 1985 when I first laid eyes on him. I was 10 years old, and he was 23 passing for 16. We had so much in common. I too had moved from New Jersey to California. I too had a tough time fitting in and was routinely beaten, albeit verbally, by the blond bully at school. We were perfectly matched square pegs. He was my first crush, permanently memorialized in blue Bic ink on the side of my desk. That's all it ever was, just a crush, innocent and pure. No confidences were betrayed. No tears were shed. I harbored no delusions of someday marrying my poster boy. He was not real, merely the embodiment of an ideal. He became the standard bearer of earnestness against which I would measure all my future crushes. Inevitably, I moved on to real boys my own age. But, he was the first and will always have a special place in my heart.

Whip It

Back in the early 80s, my kid sister and I were the lean, mean roller derby machines of 8 Laurel Drive, Parsippany, New Jersey... the formidable Duchesses of Hazard. I was the Babeonic Plague to her Weebola Virus. We were head to toe fierce in our smart flapper bobs, shiny satin jackets, flashy patchwork bellbottoms and sleek old school skates. Oh, the horror, the horror!