{content:
It was 1997. I would come home after school, pin back the heavy blunt-cut bangs hiding a mountain range of zits on my forehead, apply a thick layer of Clearasil that dried in chalky white streaks, and log onto the internet. The modem would beep, whir, and ding like a digital pinball machine and then, after a great…
, title:Jezebel, url:https://ift.tt/2N69Eic, author:Tracy Clark-Flory, feed_url: http://jezebel.com, }
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