It’s funny what you remember or can subconsciously recall even when you don’t know exactly how you made it to bed. Not to drag on too much regarding the unfortunate black out events of this past Saturday, but, well, here goes. Regrettably I don’t remember splitting my head open or how I bruised my body, now can I retrace my steps on how I made it under my covers…What my old cranium did remember though was watching Zack and the gang on stage as the Zack Attack. Among my favorite late-night activities, aside from cleaning, reorganizing, and online shopping, is doing said activities while Saved by the Bell blares in the background. Being the creature of habit I am, I must have thrown on one of the discs Saturday and faded into oblivion.
To shy away from the infamous night, one of the greatest parts of SBTB had to be the wardrobes…on top of the absurd situations constantly confront the courageous clan of cohorts. Albert Clifford’s elastic-waisted jeans, Lisa’s “fashionable” matching two pieces, Kelly’s denim (Kapowski still is the dream), and Screech’s, well, everything. That tool. And Zack. Oh, Mr. Morris. In all your white-shoed, enormous cell-phoned glory. You, sir. You set a dangerous precedent of “cool” the likes of which no one will ever hit ever. Plus you shred an axe.