Meet at the Peach Pit

I am sick.  Been  laid up in bed, feeling miserable.  Working a pretty consistent rotation of watching a movie on TV, sleeping, reading a magazine.  I now kind of know what it’s like to live like Mr. Bojangles, my dog.  Except Mr. Bojangles doesn’t read…as far as I know.  I suppose we’ll never know, unless we get a nanny cam…which, to tell you the truth, is not out of the question.  I’m forever curious how Mr. B spends his alone time.  And why, when I come home for lunch do I often catch him watching Nancy Grace?  It makes me question all of his decisions.

Anyway, I was reading InStyle and they polled celebrities, “What poster did you have hanging in your bedroom as a kid?”  Most of the answers were pretty standard, except for Scarlett Johansson’s answer.  She said, “James Dean.”  Really?  Really, ScarJo?  James Dean?  I highly doubt it.  I need proof.  She’s 26, at what point did she really admire his “masculine fragility” as she put it?  I’m guessing somewhere between never and didn’t happen.  Such an awkward phase.

Curious who I admired as a child?  Who graced Kathy’s walls?  Garth Brooks, Kriss Kross, Luke Perry and Brett Hull.  No joke.  This should give you a glimpse into why I turned out this way.  I’ve been conflicted since childhood.  Garth Brooks should be pretty self explanatory.  He became a star when I was in sixth grade.  First concert I ever attended.  He’s an Oklahoma boy and a Cowboy.  I had to idolize him.  It was predestined. 

Kris Kross…well, I don’t have a great explanation for that one.  Let’s just say, iTunes was invented for people like me.  Who just LOVED a certain song.  Bought the tape/disc and then realized that the new favorite band, wasn’t all that talented after all.  Kris Kross is a perfect example of that.  However, I will say that I did like “I Missed the Bus.”  That poster is a good representation of me and how I can be easily swayed and caught up in hype.  Judge if you must, but at least I admit it.

Luke Perry…well it was either Dylan or Brandon.  And the brooding/mysterious Dylan won over.  I look back now and realize that his wrinkled forehead and receding hairline should have been a clue that he wasn’t what high school boys were really like.  Unless they were total idiots and still in school at the age of 23.  I loved 90210.  I wanted to go to class outside like they did.  I wanted to live in a stucco house.  I wanted to live in California.  And I loved Dylan.  Until he cheated on Brenda.  I never got over that.  See, I’m a loyalist.  I have a hard time forgiving those who aren’t.

And finally Brett Hull.  My father used to travel to St. Louis for business on a pretty regular basis.  At the time of my childhood, a young man named Brett Hull played for the St. Louis Blues, and he was good.  Good enough for them to make him his own poster.  It read, “The Incredible Hull.”  My dad, being extremely proud of his name, bought two and brought them back to my brother and I.  Brett then played for Dallas then onto Detroit and lastly Phoenix.  It was like he was following me.  Each stop along the way, I pretended to know a lot about him.  We had the same name, it was my duty. 

I wonder, if it was socially acceptable, to still put posters up, what posters I would choose.  Chelsea Handler.  TuPac.   James Harden.  I’m not sure.  Maybe Husband and I can convert the office into the “poster room.”  I just can’t decide if that makes us white trash or awesome.  Or maybe somewhere in the middle.  I’m guessing if we put a poster of James Dean in the mix, it will legitimize the whole thing.  All his masculine fragility.