The Class of 96 Sucks

Russ and I, who both graduated from high school in 1996, decided today that our respective classes are completely lame. Reason? Neither has planned reunions for our big 10 year anniversary of graduating high school, a.k.a. place-that-we-all-hated-by-turns-and-degrees-because-it-tortured-us-all-in-ways-from-which-we-will-never-recover. And this is coming from a former cheerleader. I think cheerleaders are supposed to have pain-free experience or something, but it's just another myth, like Bigfoot or the finger in the Wendy's chili.

In my defense, I hated cheerleading and most other high school activities by my senior year of high school. I did enjoy a number of non-school related activities that included (but were not limited to):

1. Eating Sweet-Tarts with Rebekah in her car, the Bear.
2. Writing bi-weekly letters to Diana in Guatemala.
3. Singing "Least Complicated" in my car, the Red Racer, with Rebekah in perfect harmony and having nothing do but drive around and sing.
4. Chalking people's driveways.

A word on the fourth item -- it was a weird practice that began because a number of us had been punished the year before for T.P.ing people's houses. So we began writing on the driveway in chalk in the dark. It was fun. Too bad everyone knows your handwriting in a class of 54 people.

That was also the year I finally left all pretense behind and embraced my true love -- writing for the yearbook.

After reviewing this post, I've wisely realized that perhaps there is a high school year reunion going on after all and I have been purposely left off the guest list.