Perhaps it’s the lingering glo-worm nostalgia from the great Gipper’s passing but lately I feel like the world is one big 80’s flashback. Ribbon belts, docksiders, faux pearls and turned up Judd Nelson-like collars are all the rage. And let us not leave out the cultural barometer by which all nostalgic great 80’s awakenings are measured…the return of the leg warmers. “She’s a maniac, maniac, that’s for sure and she dances like she’s never danced before!”

Look out! Odd scrunchy half socks vaguely resembling those hallowed Jennifer Beale steelworker cum ballerina ankle covers are making their debut in surprising critical mass at dance clubs and strip malls across America. Only in this incarnation, the accompanying outfit of choice is a plunging cleavage peep show of a shirt with a low-rise A & F skirt. :cheer: Sadly, like cocaine it seems nothing can be as good as doing it the first time around. Sniff, sniff. Regardless, expect the works of Mortimer J. Adler and Milt Freidman, as well as the ever enlightening Preppy Handbook to be soon sitting on the shelves of the closest Little Professor to you…I mean… Barnes and Noble. Silly me…we all know that the Golden Age of the independent bookseller went out of vogue with Tone Loc, save SF’s City Lights and DC’s Kramerbooks.:cry:

My ride through the decade when U2 and fried mozzarella sticks were king hit a memorable high yesterday when I had the pleasure of watching a five-hour mini-marathon of Family Ties on my Jetblue plane ride back from the left coast. With the click of my in-air Direct TV remote I was again in the age of super-hold Suave hairspray and monogrammed sweaters. How did we EVER survive that era what with the endless viewing of plotless videos on VH1 and the constant contact high from the aqua net fumes? Talk about being a danger to yourself and others! Muffy’s bangs were sharper than the slayer’s Mr. Pointy! My honey even confesses to using a can of spray a week during this decade! There should really be an early chronic disease assessment for all Me generation consumers of aerosol hair products and Cookie Crisp cereal. We are truly walking, ticking time bombs.

But I digress…back to the foci of airborne happiness and swooning yesterday…five hours of the infamous Alex P. Keaton. Everyone has a first love. For some it’s a hip-swiveling rock star in tight leather pants, for others it’s that shy boy you played hopscotch with next door. For me, it’s the ambitious, self-deprecating, self-absorbed, truculant but I’ve got a heart of gold APK all the way! As I sat rapt with his sardonic ways and surprisingly touching behavior, I realized why it is I’m so very attracted to men who are witty with edge, wear conservative sweaters and carry a big briefcase.:wink: God bless ‘em! And as Ronny would say, God bless America!

Signed, (Like Totally)
That Little Red-Headed Girl

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Something fishy? Ready to get really raw? Today we shall talk of my new favorite obsession…sushi, baby! The fact that I now put my chompers into raw soy sauce covered sea creatures comes as quelle shock to those who know me like the back of their hand. To label me a picky eater is about as big of an understatement as saying Jenna Jameson is slightly endowed. Ah-hem. As a that little red-headed girl toddler, I confess to a whole year’s worth of having nothing on my plate but a trio of menu of the day choices: bologna, cottage cheese and spaghetti. Variety is not the spice of my life. Lately though, I find the pungent smell of raw fish truly intoxicating and can’t pass up the salmon sush at my neighborhood Whole Foods in spite of its $10 “too pricey for this recession” price tag.

And, while we are chattin’ it up about Tuna of the Sea, I must relay to my faithful readers the things that make you go hmm item of interest I ran across on my recent trip to San Fran’s Chi-tow. No, not the nine varieties of bumpy looking cucumbers the size of Fat Albert featured in the open air markets or the icky smelling slim-you now herbal tea in the tres dusty Chinese dime store box. Instead, the piece de resistance was a mondo sign that “Sushi and Crepes.” There is the ever so occasional multi-cultural culinary haunt where one can get tasty Italiano lasagna with a side order of Greco mousakka but somehow, I’m fairly certain that an establishment with both a Franco crepemaker and a bang-up Asiatic sushi roller would not be one that gets four stars from Mr. Zagat, yes? Melted ham and cheese crepes with a side of California roll anyone?

In Chu-toro and Uni I Trust,

That Little Red-Headed Girl:redhead:

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