11 February 2007


Once upon a time, when I was in fifth grade, perhaps, I attempted to wield a modicum of power by issuing these rules for entering my room.

If you can't make out the very authoritative, written-in-highlighter prose, it says:

Rules: You must like Debbie Gibson or New Kids on the Block to enter. You have to be my friend or family.* No people under 6 allowed.** You have to be able to tolerate a mess.***
Thanx, Lisa

For added emphasis, there are the three declarations of "luv" for the following: Debbie Gibson, Joe McIntyre and dogs.

* Because we got a lot of strangers wandering around the second floor of my parents' house.
** And how old was my brother at that time? Five! Snap!!
*** My room strewn as it was with my COLLECTION OF HATS because Deborah Ann Gibson (a.k.a. DAG)**** had a HAT COLLECTION.
**** In each issue of Sassy magazine, it introduced a new "word." One time it was "dag" or "daggy." Definition: Loser or lame. The writer commented "is it a coincidence that Debbie's Gibson's initials spell 'dag'? I think not." Sooo mean.


Anonymous said...

my rule was that you had to be able to translate the gospel of john from greek to latin and then to modern english. and you had to do so while citing the paternal lineage of george herbert walker bush from the 18th century to the present.

peppermintlisa said...

pretentious much?

Anonymous said...

no one ever came in my room.

SnogAsh said...

I love the idea of you wearing Debbie Gibson-early 90s bowler hats. Sigh. I must get on Justin's good side to get some pictures.