I work with my dad, and we might move to a new office soon - his first such location change since 1981. Over the past few days, he's begun the arduous task of cleaning out closets, drawers, cabinets, etc. Among other things, he's uncovered awards given in 1988 (still in their original wrapping), AJC sports pages from 1992, and certain mementos from my childhood.
Like this one. Presumably drawn in 1982 or '83, either kindergarten or first grade.
Note the hook about to pull me off. I was quite a funny, detail-oriented little fag.
And there's cute ol' prancey ol' Josh, dreamin' about bein' in a fashion show. Again.
In my defense, I remember Briarlake Elementary having a fashion show, and some local store outfitting a group of us in the latest Member's Only duds. So at least I can hope this drawing coincided with that. Sadly, though, I recall loving every minute of it. I strutted onto that stage, preening in my Wildcats, whatever the hell those were, and nodding my immaculately-sheared bowl cut for all to see. And that, paired with my then-concurrent love of theater and MY GOD THAT LISP.
Did you know I love boobs? Because I do. LOVE BOOBS. That's me, Boob Lover. Believe you me. BOOOOOOOBS.