Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Cause I'm never goin back to "My Old School".....

My wife’s 30th high school reunion is coming up.

30 YEARS!!!

Damn, she looks amazing for someone who graduated high school in 1976.

My wife is my high school sweetheart. That’s right; we’ve been together for over thirty years. She still gets carded; the only card I ever get asked for is my Vons card.

My 30th high school reunion was last year. My class didn’t have a reunion, we forgot. I don’t blame age for forgetting our reunion, I blame the 70’s.

My class pretty much forgot everything. Why? I graduated in 1975. The Vietnam War ended my senior year. You don’t get much luckier than that. The class of 75 spent the entire year partying. Oh I still get flashbacks but they’re from dealing with the transition from rock to disco.

My wife and I went to a private Catholic high school. Our school was just like any other high school, we had the popular and unpopular kids, the stoners, the jocks, the geeks and of course groups broken down by ethnicity. Well you really couldn’t call them groups; we had two black guys, three Mexicans a Japanese girl and an Indian groundskeeper.

We had “gangs”, but because we had money we paid other people to fight for us. Usually the two black guys, the three Mexicans and the Japanese girl.

She was especially tough.

We had what was known as the “WOP WALL.” This is where those of us of Italian ancestry hung out. We didn’t talk much but communicated through a series of hand gestures and odd facial expressions. It confused the hell out of the one deaf kid that went to our high school, he was German.

Come to think of it I still communicate with those guys the same way.

The jocks all hung out together usually tormenting wandering geeks by flushing their heads down the toilet in the locker room. I think one of those geeks started Microsoft and at least one of those jocks took over for the Indian groundskeeper when he retired.

I was in a unique place because I belonged to all of the major groups and gangs. I hung out with the wops, the jocks, the stoners, the geeks even the various ethnic groups.

Why? Raging hormones. I was equal opportunity horny and I wasn’t limiting my possibilities.

I got out my old high school year books and started reading some of the comments written by my friends. At least I think they were my friends but I swear I can’t remember most of their names.

Apparently I was into mountain climbing in the 70’s because most of the comments in my yearbooks were about me “not getting too high” over the summer.

I looked at my senior yearbook photo, I had that 70’s long hair thing going, no moustache and Elvis sideburns then. I got rid of the sideburns because my wife, then girlfriend, used to play the “odd or even” game by yanking out hairs out of the side of my face whenever she felt like it. After I shaved the sideburns she went for the leg and chest hair.

For a little while my friends called me “patches”.

I looked at what I said underneath my senior photo. I wrote that I was a member of the OE8 club. Hmmm…. I think that was kind of like the 4H club only instead of animals we grew barley.

I noticed that something had been scratched out. I could still make out the words, “Julie”. Julie was my girlfriend when I had my senior year photo taken… at the end of my junior year. Here’s a tip, never write down something, anything that you’ll have to hear about over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

I didn’t have to ask who scratched out Julie’s name.

I first approached my wife to ask her out because of the way her rear end looked in those mint green “Dittos” she used to own. So apparently the secret to staying with a woman that rips out your leg and chest hairs for sport for thirty years is her having a nice butt. And yes I realize that I’m going to lose a few hairs for that remark.

Please honey, make it the gray ones.

The nice thing about a 30th reunion is that no one cares what they look like anymore. That’s because no one recognizes anyone anyway. Unfortunately I’m starting to look like Al from Happy Days.

Who knows maybe someone will ask me for an autograph. Probably that Japanese girl or the president of the 4H club.