If the Brady Kids had grown up in Seattle, at least one of them would have turned out emo. Maybe Jan.
It's raining. Not like it's usually raining when it's raining, which is often enough anyway, but as if the heavens have opened up because someone somewhere offended one of the tiki gods and now it's 40 days and 40 nights of pouring cats and dogs and llamas and hippopotami. We went running with Mr. Tiki and ended up slicked knee-high with mud and permeated through our waterproofs straight down to our skivvies.
And so, since the topic of sopping wet conversation had turned to 80s musicals with bad dance doubles, Mr. Tikistitch brought up an issue for which we had no answer: what kind of place, exactly, was the Jennifer Beals character in Flashdance supposed to be dancing in? It was obviously not the Bada Bing, as, well, no titties. But, then there was that number where the chick dumped water all over herself at the end. Ya know, not as kinky as the Idaho Senatorial delegation, but, ya know. And tiki is actually one of the few people in the target demographic who failed to see Flashdance in a movie theater at the appropriate time, and has only caught random bitlets of the flick in later years on cable--we still haven't quite figure out what Jennifer Beals was supposed to be welding. So, don't think we actually ever caught the scene, if any, where they explain WTF about the dance hall.
BTW, here's a plushie for you.
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