Man, I'm getting *old*.
Some guy was at the circulation desk, checking out a book, when I returned from the cafeteria just now. He was wearing skinny jeans and a skinny, electric-blue tie over a button-down shirt with an argyle-patterned cardigan, and one of those fedoras with the very narrow brim that are therefore called something else that escapes me at the moment.
And all I could think of was, "Dude, the eighties called. They want their look back."
Of course, since he was probably all of about twenty-one, the comment probably would've been wasted.
And all I could think of was, "Dude, the eighties called. They want their look back."
Of course, since he was probably all of about twenty-one, the comment probably would've been wasted.