Today girl J and I took a road trip of sorts to Harper’s Ferry….and by “Harper’s Ferry” I mean a McDonald’s, some dandelion fields, and some random ass Maryland fiefdom where there were more cows than people. We eventually found Harper’s Ferry (twenty minutes before they shut it down) but that’s neither here nor there. The point is – we had about five solid hours of car time and it was ALL awesome. Why, you ask? Well – the scintillating wit of Girl J made the ride more than pleasant, but the real treat was a little piece of heaven I like to call “the nineties station on Sirius radio.” Simply put – those jams are the jam!
Girl J knows lots of things about lots of things – and she mentioned that Chris Rock has a sketch where he says your favorite songs are the songs you first “boned down” to. At first, being of innocent mind and body that I am, I thought she meant “boned” as in the first time you de-boned poultry. (I’ve never done that, so I’d be totally musically screwed). Then I thought per chance she misspoke, and by “boned down” she meant “boned up,” as in “before I saw Fiddler on the Roof, I ‘boned up’ on my Yiddish.”
I soon realized (after Girl J gave me a quick demonstration with some gummy bears about what happens when two people love each other) that the scandalous Girl J was speaking of the “doing it.” That means if Chris Rock is right, my favorite song would be “Your Body is a Wonderland.” Though sometimes when I’m drunk I get confused, and once screamed “I lost my virginity to this song!” while a nice Mormon boy played “Comfortable” at an open mic night. (All John Mayer ballads sound the same. Am I right?)
I gotta be honest, I would take “Return of the Mac” over “Wonderland” in a hot second - mostly because “Wonderland” now reminds me of frat houses, baboon noises, and egregious chest hair. Regardless, it got me thinking. Why am I so nostalgic for the late nineties? What was going on in my life that makes me squeal like a school girl every time En Vogue’s “Don’t Let Go” comes on the radio? Why do the sweet sounds of Montel Jordan’s “This is How We Do It” fill me with glee? Why does that Merry Moon song about vegetarians make me feel like a new age girl now matter how old I get? (She don’t eat meat but she sure likes to…bone. OMG I get it now! Filthy.)
A quick perusal of the ol’ early high school year books reveals that I was still awkward as hell in the nineties, knee deep in braces, acne, and tammy fae make up. If I remember correctly, I was dating a guy from Girl S and my grade school at the time, who left me for a cheerleader at one of the “public” high schools. (Skanky sinner she was.) I’m sure I hated my parents with a vengeance. I was wearing Air Walks religiously. I had not two, but a single brow (a “uni,” if you will). By all objective standards, the late-nineties should never have been my glory days. Nevertheless, I spent five hours today doing the “Come on and Ride It, the Train” dance out of the sun roof whilst belting Keith Sweat tunes.
And then it hit me – I may have been socially awkward, unkempt, and downright visually offensive, but I spent the early nineties with Girls S, J, and A. That’s when we all met each other (with the exception of S and I), when we all realized we had something pretty frickin’ special, and when we started on the not so long-and-winding road to becoming like family to each other. I’d do anything for these broads, and I know they’d do anything for me (except delete that video of me on my 22nd birthday half naked on the floor of my dorm room attempting to either break dance or throw up. The record is unclear).
The late nineties is when I got me some sisters. I’d say that trumps egregious chest hair any day…
Girl J knows lots of things about lots of things – and she mentioned that Chris Rock has a sketch where he says your favorite songs are the songs you first “boned down” to. At first, being of innocent mind and body that I am, I thought she meant “boned” as in the first time you de-boned poultry. (I’ve never done that, so I’d be totally musically screwed). Then I thought per chance she misspoke, and by “boned down” she meant “boned up,” as in “before I saw Fiddler on the Roof, I ‘boned up’ on my Yiddish.”
I soon realized (after Girl J gave me a quick demonstration with some gummy bears about what happens when two people love each other) that the scandalous Girl J was speaking of the “doing it.” That means if Chris Rock is right, my favorite song would be “Your Body is a Wonderland.” Though sometimes when I’m drunk I get confused, and once screamed “I lost my virginity to this song!” while a nice Mormon boy played “Comfortable” at an open mic night. (All John Mayer ballads sound the same. Am I right?)
I gotta be honest, I would take “Return of the Mac” over “Wonderland” in a hot second - mostly because “Wonderland” now reminds me of frat houses, baboon noises, and egregious chest hair. Regardless, it got me thinking. Why am I so nostalgic for the late nineties? What was going on in my life that makes me squeal like a school girl every time En Vogue’s “Don’t Let Go” comes on the radio? Why do the sweet sounds of Montel Jordan’s “This is How We Do It” fill me with glee? Why does that Merry Moon song about vegetarians make me feel like a new age girl now matter how old I get? (She don’t eat meat but she sure likes to…bone. OMG I get it now! Filthy.)
A quick perusal of the ol’ early high school year books reveals that I was still awkward as hell in the nineties, knee deep in braces, acne, and tammy fae make up. If I remember correctly, I was dating a guy from Girl S and my grade school at the time, who left me for a cheerleader at one of the “public” high schools. (Skanky sinner she was.) I’m sure I hated my parents with a vengeance. I was wearing Air Walks religiously. I had not two, but a single brow (a “uni,” if you will). By all objective standards, the late-nineties should never have been my glory days. Nevertheless, I spent five hours today doing the “Come on and Ride It, the Train” dance out of the sun roof whilst belting Keith Sweat tunes.
And then it hit me – I may have been socially awkward, unkempt, and downright visually offensive, but I spent the early nineties with Girls S, J, and A. That’s when we all met each other (with the exception of S and I), when we all realized we had something pretty frickin’ special, and when we started on the not so long-and-winding road to becoming like family to each other. I’d do anything for these broads, and I know they’d do anything for me (except delete that video of me on my 22nd birthday half naked on the floor of my dorm room attempting to either break dance or throw up. The record is unclear).
The late nineties is when I got me some sisters. I’d say that trumps egregious chest hair any day…
Best day ever! I keep thinking of funny things that happened and cackling. . . usually alone so I look all sorts of crazy.
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