Thirteen-year old Kim would be very disappointed if she knew how this whole thing turns out.
This is what one of my bedroom walls looked like circa 1983.
Check out that groovy floral print wallpaper. I. Am. Dying.
Yes, Scott Baio was my everything back then. Tuesday nights were all about ABC and Happy Days.
I raced to Bob’s Market to get the latest issue of Tiger Beat, always hoping he was on the cover or – even better – on a full page spread inside.
I knew all the words to the Joanie Loves Chachi theme song “You Look At Me.” Omg I’m singing it now.
I thought for sure our nine-year age difference was no big deal. I figured we would date as soon as I moved to California to start my new life as a photographer / actress and then we’d get married and live in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills forever and ever.
I had a plan.
And I admit that for years I hung on to my Scott Baio fantasy. Even though he turned into a skeevy creep, I still defended him. Omg. I even watched his reality show a few years ago. Nothing could turn me against him. Nothing.
Until he came out loud and proud for Donald Trump.
Sleep with millions of women? Eh, they’re exaggerating.
Kind of a jerk in social circles? Eh, he’s just moody.
Pledge your allegiance to Donald Trump?
I believe we’re all finished here.
Bye Chachi. My heart is broken.
Nothing will give me greater pleasure than voting blue tomorrow.
(Omg I can’t just walk away forever. My lucky number has always been and WILL ALWAYS BE 22 in honor of his birthday on September 22. I just won’t tell anyone.)