Saturday, October 3, 2015

Another Saturday Night

Tonight, Drunkards, is my 30-year high school reunion.

This video was the BEST THING EVER in 1985. Sorry if you missed it.

Anyway, I'm not going. Bestest Friend did not travel from Massachusetts to attend. I think we're both over high school.

As an aside, I made another cull of my earthly possessions in an attempt to fit my life into a 963 square-foot apartment. Among the things that did not make the cut: the dried corsage from my senior prom, and the collection of swag from my 10-year reunion in 1995.

Moving on, people.

I'm Facebook friends with a handful of people from my graduating class. If I want to reminisce or otherwise visit, I can contact them. There were more than 1,200 people in my class. Twelve hundred. The percentage that even knew I existed is definitely not worth $75 to eat some crappy hors d'oeuvres at a restaurant in downtown Dallas.

I hope they have a great time. But 99.9% of them won't even realize I didn't attend.

I was a zero in high school.

I'm now? I don't know. But whatever I am, I have no desire to impress my current status on a bunch of near-strangers. Near? Nah. Strangers.

Here's the yearbook from my senior year.
I'm in it. Whoop-de-do.
Tonight I'm focused on the fact that I'm moving tomorrow. I'm moving into my apartment tomorrow. I'm leaving my house tomorrow.

I don't own any forks, Drunkards.

I don't own any towels.

Some dear friends will help me move two bedrooms' worth of furniture tomorrow. I'll treat them to lunch for their efforts. And after they go home, I'll look around and wonder, "Well, now what?"

But that's just life.

My almost-ex is taking out all of his frustrations on me. All of them. I'm dealing with it because I know it will be over soon.

But for those of you in a similar position, I say: Tell him to fuck off and walk away. You'll  be much happier.

Guys, I graduated from high school 30 years ago. The fact that anybody finds me relevant and worth reading is...goddamn amazing to me, honestly.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

I'm moving tomorrow. I just hope the people who have promised to show up will actually show up. But if not, I'll make it work. That's what I do.

Good thoughts are totally welcome.


  1. Nothing but good thoughts headed west to you.

  2. Starting over actually feels pretty damn good, once you get over the queasy feeling. I've done it a few times, and it's been better every time. Have a good day tomorrow.

  3. Well holy shit, we must be the same age. I graduated in 1985 as well. Is it weird that I still like that song?

    Wow... thirty years ago I made a shit-ton of questionable choices. Surprisingly, I survived to never tell the tales. (Cuz what happened in the 80s stays in the goddamned 80s and can we just shut the fuck up about it already.)

    I think it's an Irish tradition to sprinkle a little salt on your new doorstep and in the doorway of each room in your new home for luck. I think it's also supposed to keep evil spirits out, which probably means Bill O'Rielly would spontaneously combust if he ever tried to enter. (Twenty bucks says that fucker sleeps hanging upside down.)

    Also bring a loaf of bread the first time you enter on moving day. That's supposed to guarantee the inhabitants will never go hungry and buy a new broom (leave the old one with it's shitty negative aspects of your old life behind). As a side note: I'd say it's okay to go ahead and substitute cake for bread because CAKE.

    I'd also recommend putting a mezuzah on your door, even if you're not Jewish. It also helps to keep evil away (aka bible thumping shitheads). Also, if a Jehovah's Witness does knock on your door, you can just point to your mezuzah and tell them you're already one of the chosen people.

    Tonight, I'll meditate and visualize your new apartment in a warm loving light, dissolving all negative energy, then when I'm zen as fuck, I'll wish an explosive bowel disorder on all your enemies.
    By "meditate" I mean I'll get very drunk and by "I'll wish an explosive bowel disorder on all your enemies" I mean "I'll wish an explosive bowel disorder on all your enemies." (You're welcome.)

    Good luck tomorrow.

  4. Here's a song for you to listen to tomorrow.

    I like to move it move it.

  5. It's a day late, as usual, but I'm sending good thoughts your way. And more than that I believe you'll come through this. You've held down a good job, managed to sell your house, and raised a wonderful daughter. You're not a zero. You've accomplished extraordinary things in thirty years. I just wish they'd been different.

    What matters is you haven't passively accepted what life has thrown at you. You've gotten up every time you've been knocked down. You're in the process of getting back up right now.

  6. According to Wikipedia, "Take on Me" came out months before I was born. I don't listen t much from 1985, although I liked that Tears for Fears album when I was a kid, and I think Tom Waits' Rain Dogs came out that year.

  7. I remember Take On Me! I only heard it on cassette though. It was many years later that I finally saw the video.


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