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No one has contacted me about the reunion yet. To be fair, I rarely check my email, but it sounded like a lot of people were interested. Of course, maybe that’s their way of not sounding completely desperate and pleading. We haven’t made contact yet, so I seriously doubt that’s the case. Maybe they’re afraid I’ll plan some really bizarre place to have it instead of something awesome. If you went to my high school, you’re reading this, and you just “know” it’s me, please note I was not planning on picking a random dumpster in a bad part of town to have the reunion where I’d make everyone play Edward 40-Hands. Although, that’s what I’m considering doing if you don’t contact me about it. Maybe I’ll have an anti-reunion reunion, and plan that on the same day. Then everyone will come to that instead, like the prom for outcasts and those rejected by their class or those that FEEL outcast and rejected. I’m not the planning committee chair this class deserves, but they rejected me so maybe I’m the one they need.

Of course, no one remotely popular would go mine, and since I have a number of male friends from high school, they would probably be torn on the whole “going to the reunion” thing or supporting me. I can think of one person in particular. I can see him in my mind being emotionally torn on the issue. Saying, “I can’t decide. I really want to see you guys! And hang out with you at the dumpster with…wait, do you provide the 40’s or do I have to bring my own?’

“Anyway,” at this point in my imagination he sighs like it’s Sophie’s Choice, “If I go to yours first, I have to take a cab.”
“And your complimentary rat with our class year on it,” I remind him. At which point we both wonder why our class’s year is tattoo’d on a rat.*
“She’s is still single,” he’d remind me again. At that point, I would have to admit that one of my most loyal friends still holds on to the hope of hooking up with a hot girl from our high school.

Whether or not I am turned away from planning the reunion, I still wouldn’t have it in a dumpster. Or give out complimentary rats. I’d probably just have it in a bar. Because if you’re getting together with your high school class, someone needs to be drinking. need to be drinking. Even if it’s just my friends and I. I don’t know what I would give out…

Parker just said, “Like condoms?”

Til interjected with, “No more babies!”

Parker said, “And they’d have your name on them.”

“I feel like that wouldn’t work for the act you’re using them for,” I said, about as philosophically so as I get. “I mean, they would either get holes in them, in which case they wouldn’t work, or they would rub off or be very difficult to read. People would be like, ‘I had a really great time…okay, I can’t read your name, and it’s been a long time. Let’s just call it good, shall we?’ Ooooo, or they’d use them as balloons, which would be pretty cool!” Much cooler to me than my classmates hooking up with each other. If there’s one thing I want to see less than them having sex when we were in high school, it’s them having sex now.

“No, I mean, it would have the name of your school on the packet. Or the year you graduated,” Parker corrected.

That sounded less exciting. That’s what made the Josten’s magazine so special. I mean, they focused on the rings, which you could cater to all the many activities or incorporate your family name or whatever, but I realized that even if I got one of the less popular items, I could customize it. Which meant that even though my pick for the design of our class t-shirt was not very interesting, and everyone had them, I have awesome boxers that I still wear. I didn’t get any custom made bride stuff either when we got married. I mean, unless my husband and I buy into the phrase “blushing bride” that kind of product has an expiration date.

I did, however, buy a Superbowl baseball cap when my team went. Of course, they lost in the most embarrassing way, and I think it ended up at the Goodwill. Now some old dude wears it to cover his bald spot or some woman who defies sunhats uses it to garden in. I’m assuming.

Still, I am really liking this idea. Will I follow through with it? Probably not. If there’s anything I like less than planning something big with a few people, it’s planning it all by myself. I only have so much enthusiasm to waste on the idea of leaving the house, and that’s not much enthusiasm. Although, if I could get psyched about anything, it would be a bar and gift bags. I could get shirts made…whatever, I’ll figure it out.

*It’s a tattoo, guys. An official tattoo. Like the vet surgeons who tattoo a spay/neuter sign into your pet. Maybe they don’t work with rats though…