My love for Prince goes way back.  When I was 7 I had an amazing babysitter.  She was probably way too young to babysit, but she lived across the street.  She was like the big sister I never had. She introduced me to all that was cool about the 80s, including the delicate purple flower known as Prince. 

I used to sit in the back corner of her room trying to make myself invisible, for fear that she would kick me out, as she and her friends Aquanetted the shit out of their perfectly feathered bangs, glossed their lips, popped their collars, bathed themselves in Babysoft and covered up their hickeys with foundation and toothpaste (one of many valuable lessons learned) all while listening to Prince’s Purple Rain album.  I can still smell the burned matches they used to melt their eyeliner.

Proof that she was totally awesome to the max cool?  This is the poster she gave me for my 8th birthday:

I was only 8, but I knew sexy when I saw it.  *Sigh*

I can’t tell you how many times I made out with that poster.  A typical make out session usually started like this:

Thank you for the flowers, Prince.  They’re totally awesome.  What’s that you say?  You think I’m prettier than Apollonia?  Why, thank you.   Would you like me to spray your bangs? 

So, you can imagine my dismay when I came across this recent picture of The Beautiful One serenading Leighton Meester.  *blink blink*

WTF??!!!!  Isn’t this chick in that Gossip Tree Hill Twilight Diaries show?  She wasn’t even born when I was fantasizing about riding off into the sunset on a purple motorcycle and changing my name to Nikki! 

A-hole.