Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

And A Good Time Was Had By All

Last night was my husband's 25th high school reunion. His graduating class was small and 25 years tend to scatter people a bit, so it wasn't a huge shindig. But it was a pretty good sized crowd.

There was a live band singing classic rock and they were pretty damn good. The lead singer and guitarist is/was Husband's best friend growing up and all through high school. His wife kind of took me under her wing, knowing I felt awkward and out of place. We had met once before at the 10th reunion, but I was very pregnant, so we didn't stay long and I didn't get to know her very well. But last night I found out that she is funny and friendly and very sarcastic. Needless to say, we got along like gangbusters.

Here's what I learned last night:

There is always someone who got fatter, grayer, or more wrinkled than you, or lost more teeth.

Being in a room full of middle aged white people boogeyin' down is incredibly liberating. Nobody really cares about the flab, the cellulite, the gray hair, the lack of rythym; theirs or anyone else's. They just care about fun.

I no longer need copious amounts of alchohol to be persuaded to shake my groove thang.

I can still shake my groove thang.

However, I can no longer shake it until 4 in the morning with impunity. It was very apparent the next day; on my face and in my bones.

High heels are for the young and slender footed. I still have strap marks embedded in my flesh.

I still care more about having cute shoes than being able to walk properly. But only up to a point.

I can still draw looks from young guys. Although in this case, it might have been because I was shaking my groove thang in high heels and they were afraid I might take them down with me.

Sitting at the table right next to the band is not cool. It's just deafening.

Jello shots are much more enjoyable as a spectator.

Damn I'm tired. We slept a few hours, retrieved our children and will now commence doing absolutely nothing the rest of the day.

Now where did I put that foot bath.....


  • At 5:36 PM, Blogger Middle Girl said…

    Having fun is what it is all about. YaY!

  • At 12:44 AM, Blogger JamaGenie said…

    There are only around 5 people I'd want to see from my class. Three are dead already and the other two I talk to on the phone regularly, so attending a reunion would definitely be a waste of time. I truly don't care how many degrees my former classmates (or their children) have, because my children's are wayyyy more impressive. Not to mention I can't resist the urge to mentally calculate how many BMWs have been purchased from the plastic surgery done on *certain people* (who now look like caricatures of their former selves, btw).

    But glad to hear you had a great time at your hubby's reunion. But bet your glad you don't have to do it again for another 5 years! ;D

  • At 12:48 AM, Blogger flutter said…

    heh, it does sound like a good time

  • At 6:54 AM, Blogger mamatulip said…

    The jello shooter thing? YUP.


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