Tonight We're Gonna Party Like it's 1999..

This past Saturday was my 10 year class reunion. I should feel more grown-up, but I don't. I was so dreading this whole experience, I simply did not want to go. However, I knew if I didn't, I would regret it later on. Plus, I truly needed a weekend away from work and back at my parents' where my mom could cook for me. And she did!

A little background about my class. I graduated in a class of 39 students. Yeah, 39. In the last few years, we've actually lost 2 of those students. Everyone was pretty much related to each other, and by the middle of Senior year, most of the cliques had disintegrated, and we all got along. Mostly.

I was going into this reunion with so much trepidation, and I have no idea why. Granted, I was not one of the "cool kids" in high school, but I had an amazing group of friends that to do this day, are some of the greatest people I know. And due to the wonders and addiction of Facebook, in the last year, I've reconnected with most of my class, and everyone genuinely seemed to be looking forward to seeing everyone else.

But still. I did not want to go.

I did. And I'm glad I did. Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion, this was not. Oh no, our reunion was held at a classmate's hunting camp in the middle of the woods. It was a potluck dinner, that most of us admitted having our mom's make our dish for us. (Really, I could have made a pasta salad Friday night, kept it in the office fridge for 8 hours, then drove with it another 5 hours in my car, and then put it in another fridge until the party... OR, mom could make it for me. I stand by my choice.)

Anyway, we were at a hunting camp. With a bonfire. And snacks. And keg beer. Oh, the keg beer. I'd say there were probably a total of 35 people there, and from noon until at least 1 am, we went through 3 and a half kegs. Good to know we all still know how to drink, eh?

I'm seriously glad I went. I may not consider most of these people close friends anymore, but we all survived high school together, and really, that's a bond we can't really get away from.

Besides, where else would I have been forced into a baked potato eating contest?

No seriously.

Those four pictures are literally the length of the contest. Pose with potatoes, first bite, second bite, Greg wins! I came in a distant third, because yeah... have you ever tried to eat a baked potato with no butter or sour cream? And on a full stomach of beer?

I really did have fun. I kept telling my mom, that if I got there at 3, and dinner was at 6, I would surely be home by 8 at the very latest. Oh yeah, I waltzed into my parents' house at the charming hour of 1:45 in the morning.

And oh boy.. that's where the fun begins! See, I'm horrible at packing for trips. I wait til the last minute, and then I usually end up forgetting something vital. Luckily, my mom usually has whatever it is I need, but for this particular trip, I had brought two options of footwear - flip flops and the heels I had worn to work the night before. Now, my mom and I are alike, but my shoes are size 7's, hers are 9's... won't work.

Naturally, I wore the heels. And then stood for nearly 10 hours on either a hardwood floor, or in really soft ground because it had stormed all weekend.

I was wide awake still (and slightly drunk) when I got home, so I made myself a snack and watched some tv in the living room. Fell asleep on the couch. No big deal, my mom was asleep on the other couch actually... this was pretty convenient.

At 5:30 Sunday morning I woke up in the most intense and agonizing pain I have ever been in. Seriously, the soles of my feet were killing me! I stood up to go into the bathroom to look for some tylenol, and nearly fell down. I hobbled my way to the other room - a mere 25 steps - and it took me almost 5 minutes. Didn't find any tylenol. Literally crawled back to the couch and tried to will the pain away.

An hour later, I was crying from the pain and actually had to wake my mom up and ask her if she knew were any painkillers were. Her brilliant answer was in the bathroom. Thinking that maybe I had overlooked them, I painstakingly stood back up and attempted my way back.

My mom found me curled up on the kitchen floor 10 minutes later. I hadn't made it. Assuming I was still drunk and coming up on a vicious hangover, she began laughing at me. Then, she saw my tears and asked me what the hell was wrong.

I told her about my feet, and she began laughing again. But, she helped me back to the couch, and found me some painkillers from outside in my dad's truck. Such a good mommy I have!! I swallowed the pills and was able to fall back asleep. When I woke back up, the pain was still there, but I could at least hobble around. And to tell the truth, I wish I had had a hangover, because it would have been more pleasant than this was!

Needless to say, I was mocked senselessly the rest of the weekend for my decision to wear heels to a bonfire out in the middle of the woods.

So, Class of 1999... we've lost some along the way, and some think they're too good to acknowledge us, but you know what? I'm happy to have seen those of you that showed, and am looking forward to the next time!