Second stop: Junior high (1988-90).
Junior high was sky-high bulletproof bangs (thank you, Aqua Net), long HIC/T&C surf tees over stretch pants, and black Flojos. Oh, and let's not forget Hammer Pants...although on second thought, maybe we would be better off blocking that one from memory. The male half of the population reeked of Drakkar, while the females split between Poison and Eternity (or, in the case of the financially-challenged, ie me, cheaper off-the-shelf versions like Exclamation!).
School dances were the backbone of social life, everyone went to summer school, our parents endured the episodic torture called junior high band concerts, and I sang in a talent show with Curt Fajardo (song: Always, Curt: sings like a rock star, I: sounded like a chipmunk on helium). You knew your social status by how far back in the bus you sat (back seat: epitome of cool, front seat: dweebdom).
Also: Boy bands.
Soccer was pretty much year-round (our Shmio team lost in the state championships--moment of silence, please), we still hung out on Emi's back wall, and our favorite hobby was boys. Relationships lasted anywhere from two minutes to two weeks. There was lots of imagined angst.
We wrote notes like crazy, gossipped/plotted/backstabbed with the best of 'em, and at several points my phone had to be surgically removed from my left ear.
Oh yes, and everyone and their brother was in love with Jayme Whitmore. Or maybe that was just my brother. Either way.
Playlist to your right. Some of the tunes are truly hideous (ie anything by Bette Midler), but I just couldn't leave them out. Enjoy.
**Addendum: so I almost forgot the best Christmas gift ever. Seventh grade, Nina and I whipped up a batch of mint chocolate candies for our oh-so-lucky girlfriends, which were delicious except for that we might have gotten carried away with the peppermint extract, so the candies might have tasted like a jar of Vicks VapoRub. Yeah, sorry girls. On the bright side, you all had really great breath.
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