Senior pic. Good hair day!
In honor of my upcoming 35th birthday, I’ll be posting random diary entries from my 17th, 17 1/2th year. (Note: The “Ian” in the following entry is the one I’m married to now. Love at first sight. Or…)
Nov. 20, 1991
Life’s gotten even MORE interesting. There’s a new guy (well, fairly new) named Ian. He’s tall & has dark hair & blue eyes. Like a dork, I wrote him a couple stupid notes and slipped them in his locker. Eventually, I let him know who I was (after about 3 days) and today he walked by in English and said, “NO NOTE TODAY?” I got kind of snotty because I thought he was being sarcastic, and he said he wasn’t being sarcastic when I asked. I think I embarrassed him. So during 5th period, when I knew what class he was in (weightlifting), I finished my Alg. test and pretended I really had to go to the bathroom. I went to the gym & up the stairs to the weightlifting room. … When I walked in, he didn’t hear me behind him, so I tapped him on the shoulder.
Ian says it's not a mullet.
When he turned around, I smiled & handed him the note that said: Please excuse my attitude earlier. I’ll write, but only if you write back. Sound good? – Kris. As soon as I handed it to him, he said “Thanks” & gave a little smile. I said you’re welcome and walked out calmly, though not feeling calm at all. Tomorrow, tomorrow…
Also, I met a German guy named Dan downtown that’s pretty funny. He wants me to call him tomorrow. Maybe.
Again, hopefully, I’ll say “screw [boy I dated].” He’s a jerk. He’s just so good looking…but so what! Spaeter!
I’ll agree that that’s not a mullet if Ian will testify that my hairstyle back then also wasn’t a mullet. (Although I haven’t seen any pictures of myself from then, I am sure they exist.)
There is many a NASCAR fan that would envy that fine example of a mullet. Okay, who am I kidding-there are many of my relatives that would envy that fine example of a mullet.
Sorry, Ian. That is the mulletiest mullet ever.