Toast Poast XVI

I sure do miss Doug Michels‘ mail. Woulda never met him had I not been wearing zebra-striped, hip-hugging, bell-bottomed lycra pants, that I’d made myself. Those things were eye-catching. Where could they be now? All I can find are skull and crossbone tights with fringe running down the sides. They’ll do in a pinch, I spose, although the others were funnier. Ridiculous pants. You haven’t lived until you have spent time in public wearing ridiculous pants.

(Look, it’s film! How retro.)