The Alan of the 80's was a bit different than the over-confident machismo you interact with today. Being the youngest kid in my neighborhood, and small for my age, I found myself partaking in the grand activity of watching others have fun.
For instance, I watched my friends conquer Zelda, play quarterback, pitch, pick first, cuss, talk about girls... I digress.
Not to say that there were no pleasures provided me. If anyone was needed to climb down into the storm basin to get the ball, I was your man (boy, I mean). Or, if a quick errand over to another's home to invite them out to play presented itself, and you could count on my fresh legs.
So it is now, at age 33, that I find myself faced with an enemy of all children of the 80's (that is, except for me, as I only watched other spew frustration): the Rubik's Cube. The Christmas present of my 8-year old daughter, who immediately asked her noble father to show her how to fix it. And seeing as though she still believes I hung the moon, I will spend the remainder of my natural born life tackling this object of wrath.It is on.