Don't Only Old People Go To Their 25th Reunion?

This morning I have the great pleasure of waking up on my best friend's motorcoach. Allegedly it's on the beach, but all the windows are down and I don't want to disturb anyone this early. 

This weekend we celebrate the fact that 25, not a typo...years ago, we walked across a stage and received the key to life: a high school diploma. How the hell did this happen? Why am I not old? I remember when my parents went up north to their twenty, and I was like God-I'll never see that in my lifetime. But here we are. 

We are looking forward to this takes a lot more planning than you could imagine. Unlike other events when you know all parties involved, for this one, absolutely no one has a problem telling you exactly how stupid they are. If I had a dollar for every ridiculous question I have answered this past week-well, I would be a very rich girl indeed. I have politely explained that yes, since you are "allergic" to alcohol there will be alternatives...and sure pay at the door! I'm a millionaire funding this myself and wish to have no name tag for you! Send my OCD in orbit, go right the hell ahead! 
PS: just because Jesus told you that you were allergic alcohol shouldn't be a concern of mine. bring your own milk! (True story). 
Of course, I am a little excited. This is the first reunion that I am Mahhhhhreeed to my classmate. Funny how stuff works out. I am sure there is additional pressure on some of you that are bringing your significant other to this ring of fire! Not me! I'm not even paying much mind to his attire! That's on you! Speaking of which, look what I found:
I did good. Of course, I have been doing all the starving thing because God forbid you don't miss a chance to have some loss of self worth during your event! Ha! 

But, at any rate the highlight of the process was  last night was when my best friend says "I have been thinking about your two need to wear the coral Friday and the jumpsuit on Saturday. Because our pictures will look better based on my attire." Strangely, this warms my cold heart. Guess what else? The name of my jumpsuit is Lillian by Gianni Bini. You're welcome! 

Pin It

No comments:

Post a Comment