1984

Ladies and gentleman, I give you... 1984!

I love this photo for so many reasons. Let's just walk through them:

• My dad, the playa. This guy was the definition of pimp. From the tight-ass Hawaiian shirt to the Magnum P.I. moustache drooping over his upper lip to the one-foot-forward stance, this guy was a P-L-A-Y-E-R. I mean, I'm not gay and he is my dad and all, but isn't your gaze just drawn right down to those taught pants?
• My mom, the grown-up hippy. I mean, check out that dress. Wait, am I tripping right now?
• My sister, the flowergirl. Seriously, isn't that dress a little out of place in the picture? Did she just come from a wedding? We lived on a tropical island, for god's sake.
• Me, the mess. So much to talk about. Let's start with the pants. I mean, wow. I must have used the same technique that sumo wrestlers use before a match. I think the distance between the bottom of my shorts and knees is exactly the same as the top of my shorts and my shoulders. Then there's the tucking, but hey-- it was the 80s. And the socks-- did I just come from soccer? Do I have shin guards on underneath those suckers? I'm guessing not, based on my giraffe legs. Is it just me or is my thigh approximately the same size as my ankle?

You know, I just noticed that both Mom and Dad chose my sister to get the hand-on-the-back. I'm just sort of standing there off to the side, half a step back, trying to lean in. And I'm wearing my play clothes when everyone else is all dressed up. Wait a minute. Am I adopted?

Maybe more on the island other time. You can see the beach near our house in the background. I could see this beach from my bedroom window. Now I sit in a cubicle all day. Dammit.