RRRRRRRRRRRip City

For some reason this term has been brought up so many times recently; bringing back with it amazing memories of childhood sprinkled with Clyde (The Glide) Drexler's dunks. Ahh, to be a girl growing up in Oregon in the early 1990's with permed bangs and one awesome routine to Bust-A-Bucket again. Alas, that scenario is dead, but mainly because I do not own a Delorean.
But Rip City has its place in my life:
Elementary School: My love of Kevin Duckworth and boys on the playground attempting to imitate some sweet moves...
High school: The incident where I was accused of having lost or stolen the famous (chelsie) Pfau classic RRRRRRRRRRip City headband when in reality it was later found among her dad's closet of hammer pants, cowboy hats, and free T-shirts. p.s. I was never exonerated...
Today (in two ways): Though I thought Rip City had died out with the D.A.R.E program and tube socks over tights, it's back baby! Did you see the new Blazer uniforms tonight? (too great for words, really). And finally the term is back as a new theme to my life as I officially ripped my last pair of zip-up jeans that fit me...sadly it's maternity wear from this day on out.
Rip City has returned.