Yes, Your Honor. I admit to voting for "Far Behind" by Candlebox to be my class song.
I got an email from an old high school friend the other day about our 10-year class reunion (which would be in 2007). Her idea was to plan two reunions: one involving barbecue and boring, senseless chit-chat for all the people we don't want to see, and one at someplace awesome like Vegas for anyone we do want to see. Sounds okay, but I think I had a better suggestion when I proposed that one of the members of our circle of friends should offer to be "in charge" of planning the reunion and maintain "complete control and power" over all the event details, and then, appropriately, do absolutely nothing towards planning the reunion.
I'll say it here and now, Internet, I will not attend any of my high school class reunions. So, save your enthusiasm, old classmates who - for unknown reasons - want to see me and hear how my life's turned out so far. I would probably lie to you à la Romy & Michelle anyway. "Yeah, I'm a fashion consultant for Toby Keith now." Or "Oh, for the last few year's I've been the executive storyline writer for General Hospital." Or "Well, not to sound too full of myself or anything, but I invented an engine modification system that makes NASCAR racing vehicles go about 10 mph faster than they did in the 90s." And so on.
What's new?
Heather is a licensed driver now. She drove herself to and from school for the first time yesterday. How did I ever make it through high school without a Cell Phone For Safety? I hate to drive so far as the convenience store without one now, but back as a wee teen I never had any sort of communication device with which to contact my parents should something have gone awry on my trips to school and job. A few times I had to rely on the kindess of strangers to help with a dead battery or a spewing radiator. But I hate to imagine my step-daughter stranded out there on the highway with some grizzly old man pulling up behind her in his primer-colored 1976 Marijuana Van with darkly tinted windows saying, "Need some help, darlin'?"
The Vegas wedding we were set to attend in March has been postponed until May due to the GD airlines running out of GD plane seats before our trip was booked. I know Leann is extremely disappointed she won't be getting married on St. Patrick's Day. Maybe I'll have to take her some green beer on that day and sing "Butt-Kicking Time," set to the tune of the wedding march. You should see the dress, Internet. It's spectacular and quite dazzling. Almost makes me wish I'd been a bit more traditional with my own wedding ceremony, but then.... Leann did mention the fact that she's gotta find a way to get that big fluffy thing to Vegas, and you do not want to check it at the airport.
So Vegas is about three months away now, and AJ and I will be turning right around and going back two weeks after the wedding for our mutual Christmas gift get-away. I like the idea that coming home from the first trip I'll be able to know that "I get to come back soon!" AJ thinks it will diminish some of the excitement for the second trip, but I disagree. I always hate returning home from vacations, and at least during the first go-round I'll know my depressing return to reality will not last long.
We celebrated Valentine's two days late, much like last year, and it was well worth the wait. This is one of those things I mention on this blog, but do not go into detail on because I am a sucker for spilling my sickening lovey-dovey guts all over the internet. Plus, maybe we did something illegal and ruthless. You'll never know for sure. My husband bought me beautiful white gold and diamond earrings (a completely unanticipated surprise) and I bought him jeans and two shirts that we took back because I internet-ordered the wrong thing. Wow, I'm a real romantic. But, hey, he likes the jeans.
That's it for now. You have yourself a well-deserved day of peace and quiet, Internet.
posted by Jennifer Logan Anti-Pro @ Friday, February 17, 2006
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