They keep getting younger; but I stay the same age. Alllllright.

My ten-year high school reunion was last Saturday. I didn’t go, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, it was $35 per person, plus a cash bar. What did the $35 go for? One would assume a meal. One would be making an ass out of you and me. There was no meal, only heavy hor'dourves. The $35 apparently went towards renting the location (which is a terrible location,) a dance floor, and a DJ. Let me ask you: when was the last time you went to an event where the DJ was actually good? Yeah, I can’t think of anything either.

Still having a touch of that rebellious streak that I had in high school, I planned an anti-reunion. I even decided to make completely random flyers for it. No cover charge, pants optional.





We all had a blast. In fact, I think the official reunion people were jealous, since 90% of them were at my event before 11:00 PM. I’ll admit…it was a good feeling to pull something like this off. I saw a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years, and was pleasantly surprised at how well I got along with people that I didn’t care for in high school. I suppose ten years of real life can really soften the edges of convictions that seem so important when you’re seventeen and know it all.

Still, ten years out of high school…where the hell has the time gone? Who the hell is this old guy with grey hairs in his beard that looks back at me from the mirror every morning, and why does his back always hurt? Sure, it’s nice to be able to walk into a bar legally, but occasionally I grow a bit nostalgic about the days of scamming beer out of people and drinking it lukewarm in a field behind someone’s house. We were gods in those days, invincible. Now…well, now, my actions have consequences. There are mortgages, car payments, bills to pay. I wouldn’t trade my life now for anything, I’ve had a good run, and I know there are plenty more years of good memories ahead of me…but sometimes I miss this guy:





And then, just when I’m already starting to feel old and sorry for myself, the universe delivers the snap kick to the crotch:




Yes, that is a letter from the AARP, asking me why I have not yet registered, “even though you are fully eligible.”

Screw you, universe. I’m not quite 28…I’ll have my way with you yet.

Enjoy your weekends, kids…I’m off to another night at the bar.

JT out.