Time Trippin': Nostalgiathons can mess with your head

It's been quite a while since my last entry. After the loss of our beloved condo at the beach, I haven't had a great deal to blog about this summer. We've spent our weekends mostly at home or visiting family, helping the grandparents-in-law move into a senior living facility, and, in turn, stuffing a 10x20 storage unit with whatever furniture they couldn't cram into their two-bedroom apartment, which we hope someday soon will grace a larger, more stately home befitting titled nobility such as ourselves. Yes, reader, on my natal day, my bride bestowed me with documentation of my new title of Duke of Pomerania and Livonia, along with a handsome medal signifying my membership in the Pomeranian order of Pour Le Mérite, and, as a bonus, certification of my knighthood in the Livonian Templars. I acquired an additional badge in the form of a red Maltese cross with a griffin to signify my knighthood, and look forward to displaying both medals with my formal highland regalia at next year's highland games. Earlier this year, I acquired for my bride the title of Countess of Bohemia, so we are each noble in our own right.

As previously stated, we hope to move up to ritzier digs within the next year or two. Once her grandparents sell their house, they plan to buy one for us outright, likely in a neighborhood similar to where I grew up, with attractive homes, well-manicured lawns, quiet neighbors of good breeding, and no homeowners' associations. I am hoping for something stately-looking, perhaps with a large portico where I can take tea on rainy afternoons, and a lawn suitable for croquet games.

Although we no longer have our usual beach destination, all is not lost; we still have access to my bride's step-siblings' house down the coast, where we look forward to spending a week in September to mark the end of the summer season, loafing on the sand all day and cooking seafood dishes every night. The little town is much quieter and more isolated than rollicking Wrightsville, but at least on this beach, we can consume alcohol openly with impunity, rather than have to outwit roving lawmen who rival Eliot Ness in their zeal for eradicating suds from the shore. I have been grappling with the temptation to acquire more preppy accessories such as Nantucket Reds, nautical motif belts, and more seersucker shirts. I did manage to get my hands on a Tilley hat, the hat of choice for sailors.

This past weekend, my bride took off for a girlfriends getaway, leaving me to my own devices -- a potentially dangerous thing for a man with an active imagination, reclusive tendencies, free time, and birthday money to burn. It was the perfect time to purchase a load of youth-oriented used DVDs from the glorious period of 1997-2001 and have a nostalgiathon all weekend. I found quite a few gems at the local used bookstore, including I Know What You Did Last Summer, Can't Hardly Wait, Dude, Where's My Car?, Drive Me Crazy, Go, Skulls, and Urban Legend. Oh, what an orgy of '90s bliss! Erstwhile youth icons such as Sarah Michelle Gellar, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Freddie Prinze Jr., Joshua Jackson, Melissa Joan Hart, and Katie Holmes graced my 47-inch screen all weekend, accompanied by soundtracks including artists such as Third Eye Blind, 311, Smash Mouth, Britney Spears, and Eve 6. There were even some music videos among the special features, including "Steal My Sunshine," "Can't Get Enough of You Baby," and "Drive Me Crazy." All the while, I was wearing the same kind of plaid Abercrombie & Fitch shirt I used to wear all the time in those days.

Holy crap, talk about nostalgia overdose. By Saturday night, I was experiencing some mildly mind-altering, Jack Finney-esque effects, experiencing fleeting moments in which I felt as though I had indeed slipped back in time, which is remarkable considering I was in a house that I had only occupied since 2007, I had watched all these movies on a flat-panel TV,  and I had been using my iPhone throughout the day. Nevertheless, my brain was buzzing with '90s tunes and fleeting thoughts of '90s cultural memes. While delusions are all well and good when I'm in complete control of them, this time I actually had to remind myself that it was 2013, not 1999. Trippy, man. And I hadn't had any alcohol all day, which may have actually been a contributing factor, considering how I was in a perpetual state of total sobriety until 2005. Imagine how far down the rabbit hole I could have gone if I had done this in a '90s-themed room.