For this, he will pay.

From Andi, who is--as I noted in the side bar--too cool for my brother:

I said, "Brent, what the hell?"
Brent, "What?  I looked good!"
Me, "The stache?  Those sunglasses?  White shirt on white pants?"
Brent, "How good do you look in your pictures from back then?"
Me, "What year did Deana graduate?"
Brent, "I don't know, '72?"

Uh huh.  First of all, the shirt is a delicate shade of pink, not white.  We'll let you draw your own conclusions based on a pink shirt and a mustache.  And a deep and abiding love of musical theater.  And small dogs that fit into purses.  And a huge poster of Tim Gunn in the bathroom.  Just sayin.

'89 for the record.  A fine year for anti-apartheid Tshirts and giant sweaters from third world countries.  Oh, and lacey dresses worn with an above the wrist bone watch. 

In other news, I'm off to the first meeting of my West Virgina book club.  My friend Lara's mom is co-hosting it and I'm totally joining it just so that I can say I'm in a WV book club.  We gon' git alll the way through One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish this time.  I only made it to Two Fish before.  Other than the humor value, I'm apprehensive.  I'm a really picky reader.  My time is precious and I'm not wasting it reading something with a martini on the cover or the word "shop" in the title.  My hard-and-fast rules are simple and number only three:
1. No chick lit
2. No dead children
3. Must have a sense of humor.  It doesn't have to roll about in hilarity, but it cannot take itself too seriously.

But I've been in  a reading slump. I haven't read a fiction book in months, other than the ones I read aloud to STeve or the kids.  I'm hoping to pull out of it.  But what are book clubs FOR?  I mean,  we read the book.  Fine.  "I liked it."  "me too." "It sucked." "You're wrong."  That's the best case scenario, isn't it?  They seldom come to fisticuffs, as far as I can tell.  And if it's just to get out of the house and talk to other people, I'd rather do something I can WIN, like Trivial Pursuit. (oh, so '89)