My Grandma wears them there cone bras. We call 'em "B-52's."
What, no Cabbage Patch Kids? No Furby? No Davy Crockett coonskin cap? Dance marathons? Pet rocks? Mood rings? "Baby On Board" Signs?
What a highly incomplete list!
No Sea Monkeys? No Grow Crystals?
No gaucho pants/capris/pedal pusher--whatever the heck those ugly-ass things were
are?
ARGGGGH, THEY'RE BACK!
Leg makeup is pretty funny.
WAZZZZAAAAAAAAH!
Hip huggers/bell bottoms?
Sans-a-belt pants?
Leisure suits?
Seamonkeys?
White folk afros?
Toddler-baiting?
Badger wrangling?
Tush touching?
Oh, wait, those weren't really fads, as it was just me...
Sorry. Carry on.
Cigar-fucking?
Crack-cocaine?
Suicide by cop?
Wide-scale looting during natural disasters?
I have weighed your list and found it wanting.
Well all I know is God hates fads.
It's written clearly in Leviticat 18:22 in my Bibble.
shag.
That all-too-common misquote is sadducce.
But wasn't there some stoning fad back then, quid?
I enjoyed the long running fad of electing Presidents who weren't batshit insane and intent on world destruction. Alas, all good things come to an end and that fad died in 2001.
wereare? ARGGGGH, THEY'RE BACK!