the one musclebound kid

If you grew up in the Western United States in the 1980s then most likely you know about tumbleweeds and Irocs, beer bongs and hair bands. These are the images I see in the windstorm I imagine over and over: Bon Jovi in the desert as the sun descends over the horizon, a multitude of young women with huge hair (BHA: big hair alert), a small hole in the ozone following them around from millions of cans of hair spray. At every party there was always the one musclebound kid with straight sandy hair cut like a bowl, freckles, eyes that didn't seem to open all the way, and a consistently mean, nasty temperament. This kid was always near the keg, and often attached to a beer bong. Most likely today he's a successful stock broker who beats his dog.