A Trip Through Time. Or 1989. Whatever.
It was 1989. My thoughts were short and my hair was long. Long as in I grew it out and begged my mother for a spiral perm because I thought I would d-i-e if I didn’t have one. I was in eighth grade and she told me to get bent because that perm was gonna cost her $80.
Recently while we were emptying out my Mom’s basement, I discovered a box labeled ‘1989’. Before I opened it, I tried to imagine what important memorabilia the box could contain, a trip back down the stepping stones of my youth.
I went to my first concert.
I played this tape so many times that I erased it.
I was totally someone’s BFF. I wish I knew who was in possession of the other half; I’m interested in seeing where we stand.
Bonus points if you remember that California Raisins briefly had their own cartoon show. Seriously. 1989 was epic, I’m sorry if you missed it.
I didn’t want my half of the BFF necklace to go to waste, so I made sure to pass it on to a certain someone that always brings the special.
In case you weren’t paying attention, 1989 was definitely cool beans. Psyche. However, I must have had wicked negotiation skills because that $80 perm my Mom said no to?
Um, yeah.
mp3 juice
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Dewey Denmark
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