SATURDAY WAS PROM NIGHT -- 1989.
You might have noticed that I haven't been blogging a lot lately. I admit it: My attention has been rather diversified. For one, there's the aforementioned Yahoo! 360. But truthfully I haven't posted there much either. I've been working a lot, training new people, and going to weddings and hosting houseguests. And, then, most consumingly: I've been stuck in 1989. And in 1989, I don't have a blog. I have no Internets, barely any computers, and I certainly don't know how to share my photos without an annotated scrapbook.
What I do have in 1989 is mylar and music and dresses that go "poof." I have large hair, crushes on boys, and a penchant for peach-flavored wine coolers. 1989 is, like, totally the perfect year. It's half high school and half college, has old friends and new friends and is the end and the beginning of everything. I will never stop loving you, 1989.
Come on over and see my prom pictures.
You might have noticed that I haven't been blogging a lot lately. I admit it: My attention has been rather diversified. For one, there's the aforementioned Yahoo! 360. But truthfully I haven't posted there much either. I've been working a lot, training new people, and going to weddings and hosting houseguests. And, then, most consumingly: I've been stuck in 1989. And in 1989, I don't have a blog. I have no Internets, barely any computers, and I certainly don't know how to share my photos without an annotated scrapbook.
What I do have in 1989 is mylar and music and dresses that go "poof." I have large hair, crushes on boys, and a penchant for peach-flavored wine coolers. 1989 is, like, totally the perfect year. It's half high school and half college, has old friends and new friends and is the end and the beginning of everything. I will never stop loving you, 1989.
Come on over and see my prom pictures.
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