I think I can wait another 10 Years...

I'm a little worried. I don't know if it was just my graduating class, or if everyone from Los Lunas is totally trashy.
OK. I know that both statements are inflammatory and incorrect, but let's just say I think I can go another 10 years without seeing some of the crazy stuff I saw last night.
And for the record, Cassidy did the best job organizing last night's party. She is a classy lady, and I have the deepest gratitude toward and respect for her. Love, Love, LOVE Cass. She was always such a nice girl and so much fun to be around. She's not changed except to have grown even lovelier and kinder over the years.
Also, I have to say it was really good seeing a lot of people I'd not thought of in ages. My classmates are all still very beautiful people and it looks like they're finding some good success. I'm happy for them.
This post is rather pointless, now that I think about it, because I'm suddenly hit with a sense of social responsibility. Were I back in my journalism mind-set, I'd not hesitate to report exactly who was really unkempt and who was causing scandals, who was drunk and who I had to hit because he was getting into my personal space (as well as that of about every other woman at the reunion). But these are people's lives, and so it seems harsh. Suffice it to say that I was thrilled to see Jackie and Crystal, Jessica was so gracious as was Des, and Sarah was a wonderful, pleasant surprise. I'm grateful to Josette and Wes and Jari for our nice chats, and I'd have kicked myself if I missed it.
One story that I do think is harmless to tell was a bit of a highlight of the night. I saw a classmate I'm sure I'd not thought of in 10+ years. We'd known one another since grade school, and he looks exactly the same-- like a sweet little boy you just want to hug. He's happy, working up north and engaged to a girl he's been with for seven years. I didn't feel bad telling him to grow a pair and marry this girl, because a) I've always said exactly what is on my mind and b) he was pretty tipsy, so I didn't think he'd take offense. Anyway, the funniest thing about drunken, Tiger 99ers is the way alcohol makes them prone to terrible flattery. It's like those posters one sees in public health clinics about the perils of drinking. No alcohol in the system, you've got a picture of this morbidly-obese, pock-marked aberration, but with each one, the person starts getting better looking until they are Catherine Zeta Jones or Antonio Banderas. I'm guessing with this guy, I was at least Cindy Crawford. He started saying things like, "Oh Rachel, you were pretty much the smartest girl in our class." Disclaimer: Not true. I worked really, really hard, and there are plenty of people much smarter (and harder working) than I was. But my favorite was when he started telling me how he thought I was an amazing actress. Now, picture me hearing this, delighted that he came to see any of the shows I'd been in over the years, even if it was just for extra credit in English. Yes, I was in all but one play throughout my high school career, and it was something I really enjoyed. He went on: "Oh, there was one where you were just OUTSTANDING." I'm sure I started holding my head a little higher, and doing that thing my friend Kari does when she's pretending to be snooty and shaking her hair like a conditioner commercial model. Which would it be? My feisty take on Hermia in "A Midsummer Night's Dream?" Or perhaps he was into the way I made a heck of an old lady in "Arsenic and Old Lace" or "Harvey." Did he love me in the more romantic lead I had in "The Jury Room?" I waited with baited breath. "Yeah, you were the greatest. Remember how we did 'Scrooge' in 6th grade?! I was just an urchin, but you were THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST. You were AMAZING!" Wow. I guess I peaked at age 12 in a supporting role. I was supposed to kiss Ebeneezer goodnight, but it was my good friend Josh Jolly, and I would have been mortified, so I remember just patting him on the head. But even though I've regretted not giving the role my all for so many years, apparently it was enough for this guy to think I was brilliant about 15 years ago.
Anyway, it was all OK, I guess. Go Tigers, and all that.
And I really should be in a better mood than I am. I mean, I got my football wish, with BYU beating the Utes (though it was a really sloppy game, Cougars). And congrats to TCU and many thanks from the Conference. My aunt watched the rivalry game with me, and was very sweet to cheer for my Alma mater, and also surprised when I'd give the Utes a lot of credit. She told me I was very gracious. I'm not always. In fact, when my cousin, who was also watching the game, got annoyed with me singing what's arguably the longest fight song in the world over and over, he kind of starting pulling for the U, and I got a little miffed. My friend and erst-while "fiancee" Eric was spouting off like a ranting ranter via facebook, but when he gets in those moods, there's no winning. I shouldn't have injected myself into the conversation, but he was making some really stupid comments (and yes, I'll be brave enough to call someone's opinions stupid when they suggest an athletic program is more important than the integrity of the students and staff on any campus), but he was nice enough to rip me a new one. Of course, only our 5 or so mutual friends could even access the conversation, but it still made me feel bad. I've actually been crying at my computer this evening.
It's been a bit of a sensitive day. I was supposed to have lunch with my brother and his family, and skipped friend time and lunch after church with the besties, but when I got back to town, the kitchen was closed and the party was over. Then I twisted my ankle a bit and cut it on my blasted gate. I went to my room and took a two-hour nap and woke up freezing, even though it was a moderate 67 degrees in my house. I'm worried that the drunk boy of last night will remember me hitting him and decide to not use us for future insulation jobs. I'm worried that I'll never get my house decorated for Christmas, just like I never took care of Thanksgiving stuff. I'm worried because I'm super poor, and I hate it. I'm worried that someone will give me a dog for Christmas, and I'll hate it, because I REALLY DON'T WANT ONE. I can't afford it, and I don't have the emotional reserves should anything happen to it.
But don't worry. The grumpiness doesn't last, and it's just a matter of time before I'm back to normal. I just needed to vent a little. In the next few days, I promise to write about the many happy things in my life-- like my visit to the inspirational "Cabin and Cottage" on 4th Street and my funny love-life episodes. Cheers.