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Kiss me, it’s 2003

I didn’t really have any friends in the CS department until last quarter. Up until then, I’d done all my assignments at home, assuming that everyone in my major was a pale, friendless virgin lacking any real social skills. Then last quarter, owing to a term-long database project, I started spending some major quality time in the lab, and realized that only about half of them are like that. The rest are genuinely rad. I donít know why this came as such a surprise; I mean, get a bunch of eclectic near-geniuses in a big room together and many of them are bound to be worth knowing.

That was somewhat of an aside, but stay with me here. Last night I went to an 80ís-themed birthday party in Lake City or Northgate or some damn place with three of the above rad people, Chris, Alison, and Mike. Speeding north on I5 in Chrisís Honda, I tell you we were the 80ís. Chris never really left the decade behind to begin with, so he was alright; Alison was resplendent in pink with a lavender scarf; Mike was pure 80ís-underground-punk in Dickies and a windbreaker. But, if I do say so myself, I won first prize: Zach Morris formal wear. Imagine, if you will, me dressed in pale blue jeans cuffed a generous portion above white sneakers, followed by an open powder blue dress shirt, all topped off with a sports jacket with the sleeves rolled up. As if that werenít enough, add a pair of Miami-Vice sunglasses perched high on my gorgeous coiffure.

I pictured myself talking to beautiful Kelly Kapowskis and Jesse Spanos wearing leg warmers beneath their Wham! tee shirts and perms, wowing them with my knowledge of Saved by the Bell and Whoís the Boss. Then Iíd pull out my secret weapon: the Zach Morris cell phone, truly a relic from the cold war if there ever was one. Itís actually from like 1993, given to me by Lisaís dad. But it is huge. Iíd pull it out in front of those beautiful anachronisms, pretend to take a call, and hilarity would ensue. Sitting in Chrisís back seat, I smiled smugly and patted my breast pocket.

Once there, I learned the hard truth: girls who go to 80ís-themed birthday parties do not necessarily resemble famous actresses from the era. The fact of the matter is there were only like one or two cute girls there, and the phone never left my coat pocket. On the positive side, we were the 80ís-est people there, with the possible exception of the birthday girl, whose broad expanses of eye makeup threatened to subsume her entire face. We ended up going to two other parties after that. All in all, a most enjoyable evening. Iím gonna have to start hanging out with those guys more often.

Posted in Musings.

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