This is a story of the impetuousness of youth.
As a wee lad of around nine or ten, I used to listen to WNBC (660 AM), at the time a music station in NYC. They had a contest giving away two pairs of Jordache jeans (all the rage in NYC at the time I assure you) and a 2-liter bottle of Sprite.
When they announced the contest, i called in. To my surprise, I won. To my further surprise, my mom walked in on me after I recorded my little “My bumper sticker is on my garage door” crap, and I was not allowed to use the phone at that tender age. So I hung up.
Hung up WITHOUT giving them any information about who I was. As mom walked by, I was so bummed. Somwehow a few minutes on the radio was not worth it.
Being the adventurous tyke, I called information (now you see why I was not supposed to use the phone… seems I knew too much) and got the main number for WNBC and called it, pleading that I got disconnected.
Whomever answered the phone said, “I heard you on the air,” and took down my information. A week or so later, I had in my possession a coupon for two pairs of Jordache jeans and a 2-litre bottle of Sprite! I was psyched!
So the next weekend, dad takes us out to Roosevelt Mall out on the Island to redeem my coupon. They don’t have my size, exactly - it’s a bit tight. But Ii realized even then that tight jeans were quite the style! Well, actually, I was am impatient little pratt who wanted to have his jeans NOW, not a week later.
So I take my jeans home and wear them. One time each. Then, the washing makes them impossible to get into. My younger brother inherits them. So i got to wear them one time each, exactly, and watch my brother get all the glory.
Oh, and I fucking hate Sprite too.
Yer pal,
Satan