Four year prison, called it high school. Yeah that's some devastatin' shit.-New Medicine
So, I did the thing I said I wouldn't do for nine years and eleven months-went to my ten year reunion. The closest thing I can compare it to is one of my many mascaras. It wasn't worth all the hype, but it got the job done. I spent four years daydreaming about how Steven Tyler would rescue me and beg me to come on tour with him (instead of learning), so I guess I can't complain.
The food was okay. The music...meh...(lacked New Medicine), the peeps were still basically the same but ten years older and the hubs spiked his hair which means he looked absolutely delicious (he never spikes it anymore=a treat). And after seeing old pics of me, pre-Candyland, he still loves me. How weird is that? Pretty weird.
I probably didn't impress anyone with my query war stories or verbal vomits about the offspring, but I don't care. The skin I'm in, is the skin I've always meant find. It just took ten years to do it.
Fast forward ten hours.I was awakened by a scream, only to find my child had gotten her foot caught in a chair...and then, the sweet, "so smart" princess I blabbered on and on about the night before, bleh bleh bleh, got her hair caught in a hand-held fan. So much for bragging rights.
How about you friends, what was your favorite part about four year prison? Mine was obviously the danger of getting caught passing notes. Ooohh the rush.
Candyland class of 2010. OUT.