Ah, for the days when Teen Triumphs meant graduating without a record or a baby.
Proof that sexual frustration - abetted by burger-teasing virgins, cheered on by a better-looking popular kid - can turn a kids hair GRAY.
Unless hes a 52-year old friend, and likes hanging around with the teens. He likes their keen spirit; they think hes the creepiest. But he brings liquor.
Mom! The gang's coming over for a sock-hop in the knotty-pine-paneled basement! Can you make those Benedictish Frankwiches again? You know, the ones that look like creamed tumor-balls? Oh, Mom, you're the absolute MOST.