Bobby Bhangra

I found a gray hair in my bangs a few months ago, but my Jamaican cum England cum New Jersey great aunt Sylvia on my father's side wears a blonde hair piece at the age of seventy-eight. She is still married to Frank with whom she renewed her wedding vows taken in 1976 almost three years ago. I was born in a Catholic hospital and went to Catholic school for high school, but perhaps I have some how acquired a more than flirtatious reputation. To figure out the origin of that rumor, the Knights of Columbus would have an easier time figuring how Bob Torricelli put the Fibonacci sequence into his voting record. ED HARDY aside, my mother Chantay and her three brothers attended Catholic school as well and eventually married college sweethearts like my father Bobby. West Indian father with no direct roots in the South or Southeast Asia, I stand accused of getting mileage in a pair of LA Gears high tops with the pink, white, and silver laces on standardized tests. When my nuclear family moved to Orange, my high school friend Camille recounted that those Ceylon rubber soled shoes were called Laugh At Jeers. Our small class used to dance to the OJ Simpson verdict and used to make up volley ball teams in physical education with names like AT&T's "All That and Thensomes" and repeat slang from music videos like "Off the hook." Our small all women's school is still holding up better than Aqua Net in South Orange, New Jersey. I was not aware until now that I "was all in the Kool Aid and did not know the Flava."