Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


We've got class

Twenty years. I still feel 18 on the inside, so why don't I feel (or look) 18 on the outside? Well, it could be that it has been 20 years since I graduated from high school in the podunk town of Kennedale, Texas. I graduated seventh in a class with 67 graduates. I was voted Most Likely to Succeed, Most Likely to Stay Sober and Most Spirited. I was a good girl in school. I only got in trouble a few times and when it happened, it turned the town on its ear. I was kicked off the cheerleader squad in the ninth grade and apparently the rumors were rampant as to why. The truth wasn't near as exciting - I broke curfew and was flirting with some boys who were interested in some other cheerleaders. *shrug* Anyway. I learned alot this weekend at my class reunion. First off, I learned that I was prissy in school. Prissy. You read that right, prissy. I have NEVER thought of myself as prissy, but apparently, it was a consensus among everyone (including my husband speaking of me in current terms). I was showing off pictures of my children and said my daughter is prissy and that I was surprised. Everyone looked at me like I had lobsters crawling out of my eyes and said, hello, you were prissy, why wouldn't she be prissy, too? The first one to inform me of my prissiness is Fuzzy, the cute boy in the blue button down. We were friends in school. He played on the basketball team when I was selected Basketball Sweetheart. He was all district in football, track and I think basketball, too. He was smart and cute. Of course, I adored him. :) He also beat up my boyfriend my senior year. He aged very well and got even cuter. He lost his dorky glasses (no offense, Fuzzy) and grew some really nice muscles in his arms and he got a hot wife. He is now an elected official and parties, apparently, with Nelly and other celebs. He also informed me that he had a mad crush on me in high school and thought I was a hot chick. I may have blushed when I learned this. And, no, I don't blush often.

So, let me start this off. I was one of three gals who organized our reunion. We started planning in January and originally hoped for a June reunion. Then, our site fell through. Robyn was getting married in June, I was planning a 50th anniversary party for my parents that month and Kerri was having a pool installed at her home. So, we said, screw it, let's shoot for August. So, we found a great room at Spaghetti Warehouse and we could get it for $15 per person and not have to pay ahead of time. Perfect.

We did simple decorations with green/white pompons, Kerri's cheerleading megaphones and paraphernalia, and old school yearbooks and scrapbooks. We did door prizes of adult products (which were pretty funny, too) and all was well.

After my shitty Friday night with the car burglary, my dear Army of Dad husband wanted to help me loosen up and relax and proceeded to liquour me up. I stood on a chair to get the crowd's attention and it started there with my first comment about dancing on the table for dollar bills. Then, I had my Cosmopolitan. We all talked and visited for about an hour before sitting down to dine. As we were milling about, several people asked me about the one gal who showed up looking like a hillbilly. It was pretty sad, but the gal had a beard. We were all shocked by this and tried to figure out why she didn't go see one of the little Chinese gals at a nail salon and get that stuff waxed off. Another classmate had cancer several years back (we think years of dipping did it to him) and had to speak with one of those voicebox things. He's a performer, so he was still very entertaining and it didn't slow him down one bit. He had a hot wife, too. One of my fellow volleyball players from freshman year was sitting near me. I told her husband how hot I thought she was in school and he proceeded to say that she still looked pretty good "except she has a bit of a stomach." Oooh, no he didn't. Yes, he did. I, apprently, shot him a go to hell look and told him it happens to all of us and walked away. AoD said if looks could kill, that husband would have been dead!

So, after dinner and in between door prizes, we took photos of everyone there who wanted one. I failed to get a picture with AoD, God love him, he was taking the photos for me. I am pretty lucky. But, I did get my picture with my best friend since the 8th grade. She graduated in the class of 88, but she was around me enough, that she was one of us. Aren't we cute?
Here is the fella with the voicebox thing. He won a vibrator for him and his little lady and he was VERY excited about it. Funniest part of it, to me, was someone asked what he got and the person next to her told her it was a flashlight. Ha.
Me and the gorgeous Kristi/Christy. I really shouldn't surround myself with beauties like this because I can't compete with the leggy hot blondes. But, I must admit that I have the prettiest friends on the planet. I thought my husband's jaw would never get off the floor after he saw these gals. They have certainly gotten even better looking as they've gotten older. Gorgeous.

So, hot chicks around me, I have to cop a feel. :) Boy, that got the guys' attention and gave all of us a good laugh, too. We were having a great time.
Then, all the girls present at the reunion gathered for a photo. Ok, gal on the back row, third one over from the left with her head just poking over the top - she's the one who I popped upside the head in the sixth grade. I'm like a little yappy dog picking on people bigger than me! And, cuz I'm short, I'm seated in front.
Here is the group of us that showed up. 20 out of 67. Not bad. At least one of our class is dead (bad drug deal and he was shot with his roomie) and I think a few just got out of jail and didn't make it. The guys aged really well. Two buffed and are firefighters now. My girlfriends all aged well, too. What happened to me? Gees.
So, I added a hurricane to my drink list to help loosen me up some more.
Back to how prissy I was in school. Kennedale High is the stereotypical small Texas town high school. And, like most classes we had the jocks, the band folks, the potheads, the folks who sort of blended, the pretty girls, etc. I was sitting and talking with the few of the guys that went to our school and it was discussed, yet again, how I was a nice girl and prissy in school. *sigh* I asked a couple of different people if they thought I was prissy and the response was "You drove a porsche!" And, yes, I did for like one year. That doesn't make me prissy, does it? Aw, come on. Does it? So, after a few drinks and no sleep from the night before, I was a little buzzed and flirting and having a good time. Mr. KHS the football stud kept flirting with me and asking me "why weren't you like this in high school?"
So, after we closed down the restaurant, we moved to a pub for karaoke night. My husband's first mistake was opening a tab. Ooh, bad. I fear I lost count, but I think I had three buttery nipples and three or four sex on the beach drinks. I had to teach the girls my toast (if you wanna know it, email me and I'll teach it to you!)
After a couple of drinks, I was ready to sing karoake. I'm standing with AoD while he plays pool when I hear the first few notes of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. I look at AoD and said, I have to go sing this. He sort of shrugged and I turned around and went straight up to the microphone. I picked it up and just started singing. I could hear the audible gasps of my classmates as they are thinking and saying WTF? Booty, the black dude in the T-shirt making hook 'em horns got up and helped me sing for a bit. Then, he sat down and I took that mic and went to sing to the guys I graduated with. I'm not sure what shocked them most - the fact that I sang it or the fact that I knew the words without reading the teleprompter thing.
Mr. KHS, whose lap I'm on, continued to follow me around whenever my husband wasn't nearby and make little comments pondering why I wasn't like this in high school.
Is she cute or what? Fuzzy really got handsome and did really well for himself. I felt pretty special to spend time with Fuzzy and his lovely Mrs.
The talented Rilla sang Blue among other things. She missed most of the reunion to go work at the pub, but we all joined her later. She also sang some duets with Ron and other fellas from our class. Ron - the dude flexing - and Booty also sang some old Michael Jackson songs and had us in tears from laughing so hard.
Bubba, the No. 1 dude here, grew up well. Very handsome and a firefighter now. He got up and told a really bad, but totally hilarious joke at the mic between songs:
A fella with a lisp is working at an ice cream shop when a woman comes in (you gotta say his lines with a lisp to make it funnier. It is also frigging hilarious when you're three sheets to the wind.)
Lispy: May I help you?
Woman: Yes, I want a scoop of chocolate.
Lispy: Ma'am, we don't have any thocolate.
Woman: Ok, I want a scoop of chocolate.
Lispy: I'm sorry ma'am, but we don't have any thocolate.
Woman: But, I want some chocolate ice cream.
Lispy: *losing his temper now* Lithen, we have vanilla. We have thrawberry. We don't have thocolate.
Woman: You mean to say, you don't have any chocolate.
Lispy: *really pissed now* Ok, wepeat after me. Is there a van in vanilla?
Woman: Yes, van in vanilla.
Lispy: Ok, good thob. Is there a thraw in thrawberry?
Woman: Yes, there is a straw in strawberry.
Lispy: Is there a fuck in thocolate?
Woman: No, there is no fuck in chocolate.
Lispy: That is what I've been twying to tell you. There is no fuckin thocolate.
I laughed hysterically at this point. I also decided I wanted to sing again. You know, I need to make a total ass out of myself at this point that I have no shame. So, I'm flipping through the song book and my husband is trying to get me to sing Kyle's mom is a bitch. I was not going to sing that song, although I did contemplate singing Chocolate Salty Balls. Even drunk, I decided against it. So, AoD chose another angry slut song and I promptly took the challenge. So, I went to sing You Oughtta Know by Alanis Morrisette. I think it was at this time, he said, that Kerri asked him if I have "always been like this." Apparently, shock and disbelief erupted through the crowd and AoM having a steamy side. Heck, in retrospect, I'm a wee bit disconcerted that I kicked up my heels in such high fashion.
The after action review included me being called Ms. Nine Inch Nails by my fellow class reunion organizers. Ahh, my legacy is now complete. From very nice Most Likely to Stay Sober to Most Likely to Sing Dirty Karaoke Songs ... my work here is done.


  • At 5:11 PM, August 16, 2007, Blogger Lisa said…

    Prissy - adjective...Excessively proper; affectedly correct; prim. Well, I guess I'd rather be prissy than snobby. You were never snobby and always nice ;) I don't know what kind of elected official Fuzzy is, but I just hope the pic of you and him doesn't get out!! Especially since YOUR BRA IS SHOWING!! (Hee Hee) Anyway, glad you got lit and had a good time!

  • At 5:15 PM, August 16, 2007, Blogger Lisa said…

    Where's your hand in that photo of you and Fuzzy? Are you copping a feel?-----Just preparing you for the tabloids!

  • At 2:32 PM, August 21, 2007, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    What is it about the 20-year reunion? For some reason, it is the ONE reunion that has a much more electric atmosphere of sex than any other. It was certainly that way with my class -- now having been through a 10, a 20, a 25 and a 30, two years ago.

    And it was at the 20 that we had by far the most people making googly eyes at each other, and in a few cases, making asses of themselves -- with their spouses right there in the room!

    Gotta tell ya though, AoM, that if I'd have been Fuzzy, I too would have been continually calculating the geography in the room between me, you, and AoD, and making similarly wistful/insipid comments.

    Because you're not doing yourself justice--especially given that glorious top you were wearing. In the threesome shot with Kristi/Christy, you're MUCH hotter than the tall girl on your right, and I'd rank it pretty close to a tie between you and the cutie with the glasses on your left/our right.

    In all, though, the shots made me sort of squirm remembering our 20th. I still thank God I stayed sober that night (I was emceeing) and then got the hell out of there as soon as I could.

    The 25- and 30-year reunions somehow are much more relaxed, much more casual; much less "danger" in the air, if you will.

  • At 5:41 PM, August 21, 2007, Blogger Army of Mom said…

    Thank you, anon, for the very kind words. That is very flattering.

    And, it was funny at how different the group was from the 10-year reunion. Everyone was very uptight and still trying to prove something, I think. At this one, we were what we were and most of us were fine with it. I may be a whole lot more woman (physically) than I was when I graduated high school weighing 118, but I feel better about myself and feel more comfortable in my own skin now. :) It is a good feeling.

    I'm looking forward to the 25.


Post a Comment

<< Home