Well, kids, it's official. The viewing of Sex in the 90s will be Saturday, May 13th. I'm not inviting everyone I know because I don't like everyone I know. It's really just a few of my peoples gathering to regress into our pasts and drink wine, but if you're a member of the Neighborhood or another real-life comrade, I would be beside myself with glee should you choose to grace me with your presence and/or presents. If you're neither a Neighborhooder nor a real-lifer, get lost, stalker. Just kidding. Kind of.
Actually, if you're a Neighborhooder and choose this event as your inauguration to becoming a real-lifer, you totally get a choice spot on the couch. My real-lifers are mocking me for posting this invitation on my blog, like I'm going to end up with MySpace pedophiles at my door. All I can say about that is, a girl can dream, right?
So, right, we've got our 90s theme going on; I believe the fact that we're watching a TAPED show on my VC-freakin-R accomplishes part of this (don't worry, the quality is excellent). And I'm talking early 90s because we were all too self-consciously hip by the late 90s. That means you have to pick someone else to have a crush on and not speak to them the entire night, but talk to everyone else about them and speculate on what they meant by that. Get an older sibling's friend who totally has their own car to buy booze. Paint your nails baby blue with Hard Candy and wear the plastic ring that comes with. Make prank phone calls; there's no such thing as caller ID! Or star 69! Or the Internet, so how are you even reading this!
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