For other tales of musical adventure, please visit Soccer Mom in Denial.
Okay, so I'm not proud of this one. But in the interests of honesty, and the interests of continuing my high-school-themed Flashback Friday, I had to include this.
Take my bedroom - Senior Year. I'm trying on my best Jordache jeans or anything else that will be so tight that I'll spend most of the evening inhaling, without breathing out once. I'm finding some sort of madras top or something with peasant lacing. Or maybe I'm wearing something with shiny fabric. Maybe something with glitter.
Or maybe the glitter is part of my eyeshadow or my cheeks.
There was nothing that got me as pumped as hearing those first beats and that shrieking whistle that starts this incredibly sexist, but-oh-so-danceable, strut.
So, for all those other closet (or not) disco queens out there, I give you below the one, the only: BRICK HOUSE
Party on!
