Look at my favorites. Now look at my date of birth. Then look at my favorites again. Date of birth. Favorites. What's wrong with this picture? I'll level with y'all... I'm only twenty years old. Not enough has changed since 1986 to really give me anything to be nostalgic about. I just like old crap a whole lot. I'm the kind of gal that uses "The Encyclopedia of Bad Taste" as an all-purpose guide to life rather than as a warning. I took my "Welcome Back, Kotter" dolls to college. I smell like your dad's basement. At least I've got more of a right to be here now than I did back in the Y-land days. Here's a hint: I was fourteen, in middle school, and my screen name rhymed with "Mincent Mice" (or, after I realized that I had erroneously convinced everyone that I was a dude, "Mincentina Mice"). I'm keeping that old name un-Googlable, just because I was such a little snot back then.