My sister recently transferred a bunch of 8mm home movies to DVD. The resulting trauma has yet to be fully gauged, but here's an example from, I'd say, around 1973 or so. My friend and neighbor Carolyn (in the green dress) no doubt cajoled my misguided 10-year-old psyche into donning a grass skirt and dancing for the camera. Perhaps this explains my adult aversion to the hit show "Dancing with the Stars" (although it could also be that I hate that show because it's crap, too).
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