We were invited to a party a few weeks ago by a friend who we met in the 80s, somewhere on Beacon Hill. He needed a headcount for attendees. We were like, for what? Maybe for goodie bags. And then our texts to figure what was going into these bags went on like this:
Eric: Ray-ban sunglasses.
Me: Large shoulder pads.
Eric: California Looks Mousse.
Me: Sperry Top Siders.
Eric: Zebra Club sweatshirt.
Me: International News.
Eric: Generra.
Me: Zodiacs.
Eric: Members Only jacket.
Me: lol, LMAO
Eric: (a series of stupid emoticons)
Me: Honda CRX.
Eric: Local Motion stickers.
Me: Capri Sun juice packages.
Eric: Super Socco.
Me: What are we eating for dinner.
Eric: Wanna go out.
Me: Mkay, where?
Eric: You pick.
Me: No, you pick.
Eric: Pho?
Me: ok.
Eric: Pick you up out front by 7.
Me: ok.
By the way, no goodie bags were issued at the party. It was only to get a count for how much booze to buy.
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