Nevermind.
That doesn't sound sanitary. Better just email me a condensed version of the past 2 decades. Try to make it as juicy as possible, but remember that I checked the little "No Naughty Bits" box when I signed the agreement and told the little wrinkle dwarf what time the kids next door come home so he can spirit them away.
Anyway, here, for no reason whatsoever, is a jumble of items that spirit me back to that summer of '87:
Do these things mean anything to anyone else but me? Am I the only one who wakes up in a cold sweat trying to remember the name of the blonde waitress or the order of the philosophers of ancient Greece?
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