THE 80'S ARE BACK! GREAT.....I THINK.

When it comes to shopping for clothes and shoes, I'm a bit simple. I know what I like to wear, I know who sells it, I know which sizes of which items fit me best so on the internet I go, click-click-click and there. Clothes shopping done. In fact these days the only time I seem to go out to do any shopping at all is when an item just can't wait, like something for the house, or a new DVD I want. Since I haven't done any proper clothes shopping for ages, I really don't notice fashion trends, so I was completely surprised to recently hear two women talking about how fashions of the 80's are coming back in style.

I was very excited to hear this because the 80's was my favorite decade. For everyone there is a time in life where the world is all excitement, fun and new experiences and the 80's was my time for that. I lived in a new city, had a new career, new friends, fun aplenty, and since the city I'm talking about is Los Angeles, people had to look gooooood.

It was easy to look good in the 80's because, well, there was so much to look at. A quick check into my 80's wardrobe closet would have revealed at least 10 different electric colored jackets, blouses, slacks, skirts, oversized knits and leggings of varying prints and patterns, all interchangeable of course. Naturally, there were the matching leg warmers, matching floppy socks and matching shoes and boots. If I wasn't tidy, the bottom of my wardrobe might well have looked like an explosion at a paint factory. Then there were the obligatory hair accessories, plastic bracelets and ear rings (again, in all colors), ripped sweat-shirts a la Jennifer Beals in Flashdance and studded leather jewelry and fishnet gloves a la Madonna. Other than the designer brands, jeans were non grata, and flat shoes outside ankle boots were absolutely verboten. For anyone who wasn't fully grown in the 80's and can't quite comprehend the nature of 80's fashion, here's a tip: rent the movie Purple Rain. It'll become crystal clear to you, believe me.

I was well dressed in the 80's. My job required it, I enjoyed it and despite it looking a bit complicated, it was surprisingly comfortable as fashion goes. It could even be practical. Having a bad hair day? No need to worry, just apply some spiking hair gel or spray and, way-hey, a new style is born. So, would I wear these fashions today? Absolutely. Would it still feel comfortable? Yes, I think so. Could I get way with it? Ummm.....in a photo-shoot with ten or more 1980's models wearing the same fashions, probably, but on my own at a local Chinese take-out, probably not. I think I'd look like one of those school chaperones who gets up to dance with the kids.

Still, these fashions looked good then, they look good now and I'd like to wear them again. So, Christie Brinkley, Paulina Porizkova, Elle MacPherson et al, let's show the world that 80's fashions are fun whatever your age. We know. We dressed that way...in the 80's.

A CLASS(LESS) REUNION

Some time ago, while either very bored or very drunk, I registered with my graduating class of 197? on the website Classmates.com. Typically social sites don't have much interest for me but I probably had a moment of nostalgia after hearing music by Earth Wind & Fire or England Dan and John Ford Coley. It's unusual that I registered with this social site in particular because, there's no other way to say it, I absolutely hated high school.

My memories of high school consist mainly of mind-numbing tedium and desperate unhappiness at being a social outcast and the butt of ridicule and taunts (I was a bit of a fattie). High school wasn't a happy experience, it was something to be endured; a requirement I had to fulfill before I could go out and get a proper job. There was the occasional break in the clouds though; the drama club, where I won a Best Supporting Actress award one year, the fencing lessons, the orchestra and marching band (thanks Uncle John for the use of the clarinet), and the college-level sociology class I took in my senior year, memorable for being a "by application only" class and one of the very few courses where I felt challenged and never ditched.

Given my dismal high school experience I was expecting not to recognize the names of anyone who had already registered on Classmates.com but surprisingly I did. My name must have jogged a few memories for others because several people have signed my guestbook; sadly the site makes you pay extra to read them and I don't want to dole out the cash. Never mind, because if people want to reach you they can email you from the information on your profile. Since registering I've received several emails; one from someone telling me of an upcoming Band reunion (meaning I must be on a list in someone's house), and recently I've received an email from an old classmate asking if I'd like to participate in an upcoming class reunion activity. Now, that's a problem for me. You see, up until now I've never attended any of my class reunions. Either I wasn't living in the area or as in the case of the latest reunion, I didn't find out in time. Now, thanks to high tech if I choose not to participate I really have no excuse...now they know where I live.

Some friends say that I should attend and if I'm honest part of me is curious, but then the other part of me asks, why on Earth would I want to? I'm sure many of the participating alumni stayed friends over the years or at a minimum, kept in touch. They probably have many good memories of the high school experience and see the reunion as chance to rekindle old friendships. On the other side of the coin there's me, who intentionally put high school as far out of mind as quickly as possible. I keep in touch with one close friend from my school days (she was a social outcast as well), but as for the others, my memories of them are vague at best and painful at worst. "Maybe you need to go now -- put it all behind you", said one of my friends. Frankly I put it all behind me years ago. But for Classmates.com and an email from a seemingly very nice lady high school would be light years from my mind.

If I go to the reunion I think the most I can expect is a mildly pleasant evening. Mind you, not because of any resurfacing painful memories of high school but for the simple fact that time has passed and I've moved on. I think that now, just as it seemed to me then, my former classmates and I probably have nothing, absolutely nothing in common.

So despite my curiosity I think I'll pass on the reunion this time and instead spend a pleasant evening with some people who actually know me. It'll be less expensive, less stressful, and I won't even have to wear make-up.

IF THERE'S CASH FOR CLUNKERS, I'M A MILLIONAIRE.

As my many faithful readers (cough) will remember, last month I wrote about new cars and new car shopping (What's Wrong With Just Driving?) and in my continuing quest for automotive education, I've been reading up a bit on the government-sponsored stimulus package, the Car Allowance Rebate System (CARS). Real people like me call it Cash for Clunkers.

Without going into too much detail -- it is a government-sponsored plan, after all -- the Bill was introduced by the House and Senate as an incentive for consumers to purchase more fuel-efficient vehicles. I suspect getting people into a showroom to spend money had something to do with it as well, but the government won't tell you that. In the Bill, the new-car buyer receives a rebate provided their trade-in vehicle and purchase meet the following guidelines:

- the trade-in value of the used car is less than $4500
- the trade-in vehicle is less than 25 years old
- the trade-in is rated on the government website www.cars.gov as having a combined MPG of 18 MPG or less

If the trade-in vehicle fulfills these requirements and

- the new vehicle has a combined MPG rating of 22 or higher, the buyer receives $3500 or,
- the new vehicle gets a combined MPG of 10 over the MPG of the trade-in, the buyer receives $4500

The Bill calls for all "Clunkers" turned in to be hauled away as scrap, which has the environmentalists up in arms, but that's up to the talking heads in Washington to debate. Besides, who cares about the environment when someone waves $3500-$4500 under your nose?

Reading up on the plan got me thinking about all the ancient pre-owned cars in my life, and I came to the conclusion that if Cash for Clunkers had always been around, I could have made/saved a small fortune. Here, in order of purchase, is the Huggins inventory of Clunkers past.

1964 PLYMOUTH VALIANT - my favorite car of all, probably because it was the first. Bought for $75, we used to joke that the car was so indestructable, it could drive over a dumpster undamaged. Built before the days of undercoating, my foot went through the bodywork of the rear panel while I was kicking snow away from the tire one morning, but it still had four wheels and was warmer than the bus shelter. Sold it for $75.

1965 PLYMOUTH VALIANT - If a Valiant worked once, I figured it would work again. Painted a lovely gold color with only minor staining on the seats, this one even had a radio and a working heater.

1971 FORD PINTO HATCHBACK - What substance was I smoking when I bought this one? Lime green exterior with a forest green interior in lovely vinyl, it had the popular Landau roof that so many cars had those days. But it did look modern compared with the two Valiants and I was so anal about this car I dragged my stepdad to a junkyard because the badge was missing from the back. Finding a replacement was easy, there were a lot of Pinto's in the junkyard. I didn't learn my lesson though because my next car was a,

1979 FORD PINTO HATCHBACK - Yes, I can't get enough of a bad thing. To be honest, this was quite a good car. By 1979 Ford had fixed the Pinto's pesky exploding gas-tank problem and it never had a breakdown. This little car got me and everything I owned all the way from Washington DC to Los Angeles when I moved to L.A. in the 80's, and ran many, many miles after that with only regular maintenance. Why is it in the Clunker category then? It had a burnt-orange exterior and a light orange interior and it was.....a Pinto.

1983 TOYOTA COROLLA - Toyota's have a reputation for good quality, but they must have forgotten that when they made the second-hand one I bought. Rough handling, jerky transmission and an uncomfortable ride all 'round, I sold this to a dealer for cash (and with money out of pocket) just to get rid of it.

1982 VW RABBIT - A great little car this, but it really qualified as a clunker because it had a diesel engine and was incredibly awkward to shift gears. Being a diesel, it sounded like a truck, and when I moved back to Washington, I realized diesels + cold weather = bad news. It met it's end when the engine hydrolocked about 100 yards from the entrance to the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel.

And, the best clunker of 'em all,

1993 FORD FESTIVA - After the 1964 Valiant, my absolute favorite car. Fun, easy to drive, inexpensive to own, this car could navigate snow and ice almost as good as my current car, the Subaru Outback. My mechanic once told me that the engine on the Festiva would still be running long after the body rusted away. I hope the couple I foolishly sold it to are taking very good care of it. Why then is it a clunker? Cut and paste this link to find out:

http://www.atozautolights.com/images/AutoPhotos/FOFE8893.jpg

Mind you, these aren't all the cars I've owned, these are just the clunkers. So, President Obama, members of the House and Senate, please make Cash for Clunkers 25 years retroactive. I could pay off a lot of bills.

Or buy a restored Ford Festiva.

PLASTIC SURGERY? NO THANK YOU, I'D RATHER BUY DVD'S

This Sunday, August 9, I turn 29 years old yet again (real age known only to close relatives, the Division of Motor Vehicles and the Passport Office), and Mom called earlier in the week to invite me to a slap-up meal to celebrate. In the course of the phone call, Mom did what she does often these days, and asked me to "ask your computer a question". My computer answered questions about Vitamin A and the nutritional properties of tomatoes, but the intersting question was about a procedure she'd seen on television called Lifestyle Lift, or a one-hour facelift (Bad Sign #1) supposed to be able to take years off your face, or some such nonsense. Their official website didn't give me much information about the procedures available (Bad Sign #2), but after reading Mom some of the negative information from unhappy patients, she decided it wasn't for her.

While there was no connection between my 29th birthday yet again and the facial plastic surgery question, when I came home that evening I did begin to scrutinize every pore on my face and wonder if at my age I needed some "work" done. Surprisingly, I was fairly happy with what I saw in the mirror. For a woman my age who doesn't take particularly good care of herself, my only complaint is some lines on my forehead and some modest crow's feet around the eyes, and I justified all of them by saying "well, at least I got them by laughing!" Done. There's $6,000-$7,000 that won't be leaving my bank account.

Now, there's nothing wrong with plastic surgery. To be honest, if I had a spare $100 large in the bank and nothing else to do I have no doubt I would get the old forehead ironed out in a jiffy. I can even see instances where cosmetic plastic surgery is necessary, say, as an adjunctive therapy for depression, or if you were presenting a morning show on television, or worse than that, you're the wife of a plastic surgeon. But for other people in general, and me in particular I ask, what's the point?

These days, I'm happiest at home. After working two jobs, having a social life and running errands, it's a great feeling to come to Huggins House and close the door on the rest of the world. So instead of Plastic Surgery, (something for others to look at and enjoy), I'd buy "stuff " (something for me to look at and enjoy).

Topping the "stuff" v Plastic Surgery shopping list at the moment are:

• a flooring contractor to re-finish my beautiful but worn wood floors
• new kitchen appliances, just in case I decide to cook something
• new verticle blinds throughout
• a custom-tailored, double-breasted black pinstripe suit with slacks AND skirt
• a high-limit credit account at Play.com, one of the UK's leading retailer of DVD's
  

and the ultimate purchase,

• a large, flat screen, wall-mounted HD television with region free DVD player and home theatre stereo ***
  

Who knows? In five years time I may opt for the surgery, but I'd rather like to think I'm still happy with life and the way I've aged and instead, enjoy my quiet time at home and play another DVD on my big-screen.


(***List not intended as a solicitation for birthday presents, but if you're interested in making a purchase for me, I'll give you my home address.)

MEMO TO CO-WORKERS: GO AWAY MORE OFTEN, PLEASE

This past week was one of the most relaxing times in the office I've had in months. My workload was actually a bit heavier than normal but overall, it was a calm, orderly, productive and relatively stress-free 40 hours. The reason? Simple. Half the office staff was on vacation, so it was possible to get things done.

Now, it has to be said that I like my co-workers, but the truth is that I spend more of my waking moments with them than with anyone else in my life, so it's not surprising that they've gotten on my nerves. In fairness to them I suppose they can say the same about me, but I'd rather not admit it.

What didn't I miss about my co-workers this past week? Well, I'm going to make a short list, and before I'm accused of being petty, I'd like to think of this piece as an exercise to help me cope and deal effectively with my co-workers in an efficient and business-like manner. There. That's my story. I'm sticking to it.

• The Kid: This man still needs Mother. He doesn't know how to put staples in the stapler, always leaves 1/16 mm of coffee in the pot, leaves faxes and mail laying about without regard to the receipients, won't answer his own phone, and lets the copier run out of paper without re-filling it. Niggling little things but annoying nonetheless, and if you're on a deadline and number fifteen in the print-queue because the paper tray is empty it's maddening.

• The Perfume/Men's Cologne Counter: You can smell these people coming before they open the door, and they're with you long after they leave. While not necessarily time-wasters, these are the irritating people who will stop to ask when I plan to give up smoking. In a Perfect World my answer would be, "when you stop wearing fake Obsession/Paco Rabanne".
  

• The Mom: I really like this woman but do I really want to hear about her children's grades, awards and athletic achievements? An occasional update is fine, but an in-depth report running about an hour long several times a week is too much. There's a reason I didn't have children, and all those activities is one of them.

• The Partner: not a nickname; he really is a partner in the business, and he's keen to call me "his secretary" to anyone he wants to impress (I'm not his secretary). He constantly disrupts my day by having me do work for his other business and he's also one of the classic loud-talkers on the planet. I know more than I ever cared to know about him, his wife, his other business ventures, how much money he has, what he owns, what he wants and who he wants to sleep with. Is there any way to turn the volume down on someone like this? Not if he's one of the two signatures on your paycheck.
  

There are more, but anyone who has spent any time in an office environment knows the types I've described, and readers here probably have some classic stories of their own. If you do, please let me know by adding your co-worker story in the "comment" section. Alternately, if you're not a "comment-er", you can email your co-worker tale to me at lightsidenotes@gmail.com.

So much for the stress-free week; time to enjoy the rest of the weekend because guess what? My co-workers will ALL be back on Monday.