I just love class reunions. As a waitress who has worked many reunions, it's nice to be able to see them for what they really are: a chance to get together with your high school pals and

a) dress really nice/slutty to remind them of how popular you used to be

b) show up with a hot date to remind them of how popular you are now

c) only talk to the people you used to be friends with back then

d) consume lots and lots of alcohol to forget how pathetic you all are!

The most recent class reunion, Harbrack class of '66, was certainly a night to remember. Sure it was like most other reunions I've worked, there's that one girl with the fried blonde hair, cancer booth tan, yellow knit dress and no bra on; there's that girl with platinum blonde hair, high heels, and a mini (she's 58); the guy with the Hawaiian shirt, long pants, loafers and no socks, Miami Vice Style; and that girl wearing a knit outfit bedazzled in the 80's.

Knit outfit, who I learned was named Nancy, was in charge of the shindig. I gave her the microphone for any announcements etc. Nancy decided to turn on the mic and use it for kareoke. She sang back up, "OOooOOOOOOOOO ahhhhhh OOOOOO EEEEE" in bass, and also lead vocals in soprano. She told me in school that her nickname was "Crazy Nancy."

Yellow-dress-no-bra's husband told me that if he was younger he would be "hustling me."

A night to remember indeed.

I'm sure you've all been waiting breathlessly for my next post; I apologize, I was on vacation.

The last time I was at Myrtle beach it was a hoppin' joint filled with beautiful people. Half-naked girls walked the streets, and the beach was replete with OLDA-boys! Nothing has changed, except Sara and I. While we aged about 3 years, no one else did. The boys ranged from 12 to 16. Disgusting. The one reason people go on vacation is to forget who they are, do crazy things they'd never do in Pennsylvania, and meet up with boys because there aren't any eligible ones in the tri-state area! I did none of the above. Rob Lowe, in the body of a 14-year-old, did happen to hit on us. However I am a strong advocate against child-molestation.

On the Fourth of July I did everything but be patriotic. I did not even don red-white-and-blue. It was serious.

The day turned sour from the moment I picked up my Teen Vogue.

I got lost inside the pages of designer clothes and 45 minutes later closed the magazine a depressed woman.
I fantasized about where I would wear such clothes and then realized that there is absolutely nothing to do here that requires a classy, well put together outfit. The melancholy set in. I turned up some obnoxious 80's revival tunes and went to bed at 5 p.m.

I woke up at 9 p.m. with greasy hair, wearing a less than attractive Goodwill tee, and exuding a stench of bad breath. It was then that I realized I'm the type of person that has to put a lot of effort in each outfit to feel polished. My life motto is, "You look good, you feel good," and without having to work or be present at any social events I have not been looking good.

So to achieve my potential I made a conscious decision to pull myself out of my bad hair/clothes/makeup/lazy slump. I took the first step and shuffled off to the kitchen to eat some cream puffs that weigh in at 305 calories a pop. I felt so much better.

It all started on Thursday when Sara took me to see a parody of Broadway shows. Carol Channing made an appearance with lips bigger than the botox industry and a smoker's gravelly voice. It was sheer delight. I actually had heard many remarks about Ms. Channing but never really knew who she was.

I couldn't quit wondering who she was on Saturday and so I looked her up on You Tube. What I found confirmed my suspicions. Carol Channing is insane. I love her. My cousin and I have been singing, "Jam tomorrah, Jam yesterday! But nevah, evah jam todaaaay!" all weekend.



Not Ashamed of Marmalade!!!

By the way, Goddess Channing is still alive and is 85.