Oh, high school, you still don't get it.

I am a 28-year-old child. I do not apologize for this because my mom isn't here and you can't make me. Please keep this in mind, as a justification for my behavior.

My 10-year reunion was last weekend (can you believe it's been 10 years already?????). I'd called my old high-school friends, they all promised they would go - one of them went. After I'd RSVPeeing (haha), my friends inform me that the ticket price is a little high and they'll be missing "this one." I don't know which other reunion they're planning on attending, but if it's the 20th , count me out; I hope to be dead due to a life of excess. If I'm not found at the bottom of a pool by then, I'll be too ashamed to show my face. It was $50/ticket for a meal and a couple drinks, which sounded fair to me. Then again, I usually eat gold, washing the gold down with a chilled glass of miracles. It's not that my friends weren't doing well for themselves. It's just that they can only sell everything they own once and $50 buys a lot of illegal substances. Un-der-standable. Besides, how many times can they be expected to hock their Playstation 1?

I arove? Arrived? Forget it, I'll use a different word. I got there over an hour late, you know us Hollywood types and our need to pre-party. By the time we walked in, every table was filled. They wound up finding a small cocktail table for us and set it up next to the bussing tray. (I never fit in during high school. It was nice of symbolism to remember.)

After dinner, I was approached to see if I could perform some of my "comedy thing." When I'd agreed to this prior, I'd thought my "comedy thing" would be a part of some "series of events." No, no, no. They called me up, stood me in the middle of the dance floor, and let me go at it in front of a room of people that loved nothing more, back in the day, than calling me a word that starts with "F" and ends with the inability to marry. At least the DJ took it upon himself to play sidekick, interrupting my punch lines with samples of songs I'd mentioned in previous jokes. Eventually I had to remind him that I am an artist, just like he is, and I'm very serious about my "comedy thing," so if he could please stop screwing up my jokes, I'd stop hating my life.

We had mock elections afterwards and I came out a winner. I won most likely to (I couldn't hear) AND most likely to (I forgot). I was honored. So, if anyone wants to share the spoils, I've a second matching ice cream dish – unused, like its brother - and a seizure-causing "Rock Star" button which will look wonderful pinned on something I'd never consider purchasing. I may have been a loser back then, but now I am a king!

The rest of the night was spent trying to get out of there as fast as possible.