bring on the botox

I don't have wrinkles, I still get carded when buying cigarettes, and I only wear a bra when I feel like it, but, alas, I am getting old. Several months ago I kind of sprained my ankle, and it kind of still hurts. I've dismissed this lingering pain as a result of dancing on it later that night and going for a run the next day, not as a sign of deteriorating cartilage and other things that are less resilient as one gets older. Last night, however, I received a sure sign that I am officially in the adult category.

It may come as a surprise to many of you, but when I was a kid, I was not exactly "cool." I nodded cluelessly in agreement when my friends talked about the rad-ness of pop icons like Michael Jackson and the cast of Full House. While they spent their evenings watching MTV and TGIF, I was glued to Nick at Nite. Maxwell Smart, Agent Joe Friday, and Dick van Dyke were my heroes, and I marveled at the fact that my parents were alive when their shows were on regular TV. One contemporary show that did manage to penetrate my shrouded worldview, however, was the Fresh Prince of Bel-aire. I've seen every episode at least three times, I still know every single word to the theme song, and damn if that Uncle Phil wasn't just hilarious! And Cousin Hillary, what a valley girl!

Anywho, last night I was flipping between the Republican National Convention coverage and Fox's Trading Spouses: Meet Your New Daddy, when I heard a familiar beat and the words "nooow this is a story all about how my life got twist turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute just sit right there I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called..." Um, sorry bout that. Point is, these words were coming from Channel 6, which means that episodes of my beloved Fresh Prince will be aired on none other than Nick at Nite this fall. It's all downhill from here...just put Snoop Dogg on the oldies station already and get it over with.