Steakbellie is Having a Party
(and I'm at home)
It is high school revisited. All the cool kids have gotten together at Kimmy Mezner's house for a party while her parents are in New York City. Artie Lange, however, is not invited. Instead I am planning to meet a few other nerds at Shira School for some late night basketball. Afterwards we will go to the 7-11 and get a big gulp. If we are lucky, we'll see one of the hot chicks at the store picking up more ice and condoms. She won't talk to me.
Boy, I wish I was at Steakbellie's party. Son has a stomach virus and is puking every hour. Actually, he is on the mend, but Mrs. Lange and I are exhausted. Looks like we'll watch 13 Going on 30 and eat ice cream.
I bet right now, Steakbellie is laughing with a bevy of women surrounding him, their hands stroking his chest, getting a chance to feel what must be a $1,000 tux. I imagine the caviar bar is being replenished and the Gray Goose and Belvidere are flowing down a carved track in the Wing Bowl ice sculpture they purchased. In about an hour I bet they'll be having Baked Alaska and Bananas Foster. The twelve-piece band will be starting their final set. That is until Wing Kong throws the band a few hundred extra to keep playing.
My 20 year reunion is this year. It is a chance to reopen the wounds of adolencence and see all of the people who I can't, and don't, call friend. Not being at Steakbellie's party is good preperation. That said, I think I want to go to the reunion. I don't know. I guess there is a hope I could have a meaningful conversation with someone, perhaps help me think more favorably of MCHS and my hometown. I will not go there to measure myself to others. The first person who feels the need to tell me how sucessful they are, I will lift their wallet. I'm serious. I've been practicing. You can find anything on the web, even the art of pickpocketing.
Hope you are having fun, Steakbellie. I'm sure I'll see all the pictures posted on your website, and if not there, in the society page of the New York Times.
3 comments:
SINCERE RESPONSE: In another 20 years you won't give a whit about high school or parties that take you away from the bosom of your family (or the bosom of your wife) and your son will have just reminded you of how much it meant for him that you and mom were always there to nurse him through childhood and it's dangers.
HUMOROUS RESPONSE: Is Thurman Munson's sister-in-law going, too? If not, will you take off your wedding ring and replace it with your class ring? I waiting a report from the brave soul who goes to his 20th reunion pretending he checked himself out of court-mandated drug rehabilitation because he just knew that some of his old school mates wouldn't mind lending him the money to buy a couple of kilos of really good weed, so he could double their money for them. You'd have to go a couple of days without bathing or shaving, but it'd be worth it.
ILLITERATE RESPONSE: Hee hee! 20th rejunion of high screwll and all the gang of boys and kids and such as them as attedinged. Cheerleaders with their short shorts, more fun... Ah! the pain!!
RELIGIOUS RESPONSE: Let him without sin cast the first stone.
I went to my 20th reunion last summer. "Vhy do you vant to go?" my Austrian vife asked me, "you never talk about any of these people."
"I want to go because I still have all my hair." I said.
All the fat kids were skinny, all the skiny kids buff, the losers were happy, the jocks were still living in the past, the smart kids were all living on a coast, the wallflowers (like me) suddenly had personalities... Twenty years changes people, mostly for the better.
Mr. Radloff speaks the truth. The majority of people do change, and they do improve with age. But at my reunion a couple years ago, a few insecure souls drowned me with boastful talk, and I still hate that they killed my buzz. So I hope you yield a fat wad of cash from your reunion.
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