Thursday, August 02, 2007

I want my M T Very strong drink

I had dinner with a lovely friend of mine last Thursday and while I was sipping on a mojito and waiting for my Miami-inspired Cubanish weirdo chicken salad to arrive my cell phone rang. And I answered it. And it was my best friend Matty. Who then asked me point blank if I was going to his reunion with him or not. Then I blinked twice. Then I whined that I'm a chunker. And he had the nerve to make the tsk sound to me where I then said, alright. Fuck it. I've triumphed over bigger things than my big ass so I'll go. IN 2 WEEKS!!

Then I barfed a mint leaf.

You see, this is not just a friends random high school in Whateverville, US of A. home of the Raging Ratfucks (GO RATS!), it also MY high school with MY old crew of INSANE friends (even though they were 2 years my junior) MOST of whom I've delighted in NOT seeing or thinking about for the last 20 PLUS YEARS. We had, shall we say, theatrical and volatile relationships peppered with wine coolers, clove ciggies and CRAZY. Oh, and did I mention, we were the DRAMA fags?

Yea. We were those kids. And yes we used the term fags. It was the 80's, don't get all up in my grill over it.

We were the overly hormonal insane teenagers who practiced their scene's on the quad and cried at the drop of a wardrobe hat and were vicious, horrible assholes if you got on the wrong side of whatever faction was in control at the time. The ones who would form "I Hate So-And-So" clubs and take the air out of your tires while you innocently sat at a football game watching your team get clobbered by the low-rents from the next town over, and fill your mailbox with a spaghetti dinner complete with meatballs. Yes. These all happened to me.

Although I must admit, I wasn't an innocent victim all the time. I was, hrm, how should I put this? A bitch on wheels with a dyke haircut (before it was a dyke haircut) and a temper that could rival a pissed off cobra with PMS and an infected hangnail. Well, if cobras had nails, which they don't but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I was, in fact, (sometimes) very, very mean.

Not like now. I'm a total softy now. Quit gagging at your screen, I'm different. Sorta. I can still tear you a new one but I'd rather have a good laugh and a tight friendship. OK, I still enjoy the occasional idiot beating but I'm not bossy like I was back in high school. Yes. That's the difference. Bottom line, I've always had a low tolerance for bullshit but now I can better harness my super power and use it for good instead of evil.

Oh, who am I kidding. I was kick ass then and I'm kick ass now but now I have more money. Ha ha, I'm kidding. I have grown up and I'd like to think I'm a totally different person. I could be fooling myself but most of the time I think I'm pretty fucking awesome with a good heart, generous nature and fiercely loyal to those I love. Which is probably the same for everyone else but I'm fucking nervous as hell about this stupid party. But, I'm going. With Matty. To his freaking 20-year reunion. Even though I didn't go to my own 20 year reunion 2 years ago just to avoid the trauma that I experienced at my 10 year. But I'll go!! Because, as I've mentioned, I'm a good fucking friend!

Of course I am now obsessed, obsessed with finding the perfect outfit, shoes, accessories, make-up, handbag, underwear, nail polish, weather system, driving music, alcohol compatible drugs, and long term therapist. I'm considering renting a fancy car that probably no one will see. I've given up losing a shit ton of weight in the next 10 days since that would inevitably mean losing a limb, and as chunker as they may be, I like them all.

So I will go. As (thebestofme) is.

I will be brave and smile and crack jokes and try not to get shit faced and finally punch that smarmy bitch Suzy in the neck like she totally deserved for doing that thing with her fat face sister when we were 17. I will smile and try to be funny and know that it is what it is and my life is my life and there are good and bad things in everyone's. And I will try to pretend that no one cares that we're all fat (please god, let some of them be fatter then me) and probably not millionaires and just happy to see each other after all of these years anxious to catch up and trade a few stories.

And please, Jesus, kind and loving God, creator of chocolate & kittens, let there be an open bar.

5 comments:

Truly said...

LMAO at you, Betty! You will be beautifula nd smart and witty and charming, just like you are EVERY DAY. And you will have fun. How can you not? It's going to be the 80's all over again! Get drunk and dance to The Reflex!

Love Tr00!

From the Back Nine said...

The only thing worse than having a big ass is being one. You'll go, you'll laugh at the big asses, and you & Matty will have one more wonderful memory.

Avalon said...

Betty~~ as I was reading that whole center section, I kept thinking this was some sort of Candid Camera moment. Like someone had written about my life and stuck it into your Blog ( minus the drama-fag part. I was a Punk).

I say, go........tell everyone what you really thought of them, and then have another drink.

Then please, please Blog all about it. I skipped my 20th and I have a burning desire to live vicariously.

Joan said...

Get thine scrappy ass over there. It's a great experience. I loved the look on my husbands face when his old girlfriend showed up and he didn't even recognize her. She used to be chunky, and she was so skinny you could have knocked her down with a feather. I felt sorry for her, so I didn't beat her up like I planned.

Dharma said...

Jeez. A great deal of this post I could have written. Yes, I am a lot less nasty and vicious than I used to be to, however it doesn't mean I still don't bitch slap with the best of 'em.