1:20 p.m. - 2003-05-09
To Serve Mankind
I indulged today and bought a CD to listen to at work. Pure 80's Love. Good stuff -- full of Mr. Mister, Cutting Crew, Survivor, Christopher Cross and the like. I remember dancing, or actually, walking in a big circle around the people dancing when I was a High School freshman.
I was never actually asked to dance. I always assumed that it was because I was chubby and ugly. As I look back, I know that wasn't it. I wasn't ugly, and I had the boobs. Slightly smaller since I was still growing.
No, it was because I shopped at the Union Rescue Mission on purpose, to find the freakiest, most gawd-aweful garb to make me stand out from the crowd. And the hair. It was also the hair.
My brother went to Finland as an exchange student. He came back with punk music, European fashions, and inspiration for a good girl looking for escapism in anything other than running away or turning to alcohol and drugs. I was smart, you see. Sensible.
I used to enjoy going to the mall and watching the farmers drop their jaws at the sight of me. We're talking people who had never seen a person of color actially in person, no less a day glo white girl in a Cyndi Lauper-esqeu wardrobe. And I had the hair. Not the checker board, but something equally as creative. OH, alright, bizarre.
Yes, I can say I was the one who brought the punk revolution and Converse Hightops to H-town. Except it took two years for the actual revolution to take place. Even then it was just two other people, and I had moved on to Ralph Lauren. I had hit upon the political scene. Navy blue and tan.
So, back to the dance. Why didn't I get any hits? Well, I think you know now. I was guy on Roswell. The dark haired one with the big ears who everyone KNEW was an alien. They were nice to him, because they were afraid he would load them on a space ship and turn them into dinner. Like on the Twilight Zone -- "To Serve Mankind" -- the book is actually a cookbook with suggestions on how to prepare humans as dinner.
Back to the dance, again. There was this sheep farmer, but my friend had this crush on him -- so. Probably a good thing. I'm allergic to wool products.
You know, if I went to that dance today, I bet I'd get to dance every time. As many time as I've been asked out in the last couple years by the under 18 crowd. Kinda creapy. I guess I've lost my freaky mojo. Although someone did tell me today that I resemble Monica Lewinsky. I told her I couldn't possibly. I'm a Republican.
That's freaky.
