Gag me with a pitchfork
I hate the 80s. I'm sorry if that offends someone, but I really do. Okay, I wasn't even born until March of 89, but just looking through my mom's old yearbooks makes me feel nauseous. Blue eyeshadow? Feathered bangs? Hairstyles that look like giant cottonballs? Puh-leeze. And yet, as my mother so... Sign in to see full entry.