Friday
Morgan, Jessie, and I ate some dinner at Witt's and then headed up to St. Alphonsus for their Oktoberfest fest, where Maggie Speaks was playing (the lead singer was in our fraternity). We had a couple beers there, staying long enough to hear them cover "Jessie's Girl" and The Outfield's "Your Love." Good times.
Then we headed to Roscoe Village Pub, which is where Kyla works a couple nights a week. It was fairly empty, but the local mailman decided that he needed to sing some karaoke, even though it wasn't karaoke night. And so it began.
Kyla made us each a Sloppy Hooker (Absolut Ruby Red, tonic, cranberry juice, lemon juice -- it tastes more like a grapefruit than grapefruit juice), and she made them extra sloppy. In fact, she made them increasingly sloppy as the night wore on, which was not good because, like a cranberry juice and vodka, the taste is not effected when obscene amounts of alcohol are added. My last Sloppy Hooker -- which I have now nicknamed The Widow Maker -- was pretty much just a pint of vodka. And she made us do shots of some German liquor that tasted like honey and probably some others as well. Her suggestion that the Sloppy Hooker be renamed to the Special Ed Teacher was taken into consideration. Upon further review, I think that the only alternative name for the Sloppy Hooker will be the Retard Sandwich.
My desire to sing karaoke increased at a geometric rate in proportion to the number of Sloppy Hookers I sucked down. Morgan and I belted out "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi. I have a strong feeling that I sang something else, but I will have to be reminded of that that was. I think we can all be relieved that there is no video or photographic documentation of said performances.
I'm under the impression that I was transported home by some sort of livery driver. After I got home I puked for the first time in a while. Thanks Kyla. In case you're wondering, when coming back up, a Sloppy Hooker tastes a lot like vomit.
Saturday
I got up around 10 because I had a flag football game at 11. I learned that I have the ability to play flag football still a little drunk from the night before. Actually, that's not true. My usual sure hands were about as reliable as an American-made automobile. Worse yet, we started the game without a full team, so the first play of the game was a near-full-field-length TD pass by the other team. We regrouped pretty well, and we were up by 5 with 7 seconds left. The other team was at about the 3 yard line. They pitch it left, the guy falls to the ground as I'm trying to remove his flag. His arm with the ball is extended forward to about a half-yard short of the endzone. Apparently the rules that day were the little-used "Horseshoes & Hand Grenades" rules because close to a touchdown was given the weight and effect of an actual touchdown. As the final whistle blew, the other team won by one. On the bright side, one of the guys on the other side was in the same fraternity as me, but at Illinois. I didn't have the heart to tell him that our fraternity's CEO once told me that their charter got pulled because they weren't strong enough. Not because they had bad grades. Not because they hazed. Because they sucked.
Our team is sponsored by Rocks, so we headed there afterward, just in time for Wisconsin to score their sixth touchdown of the day against IU. The game was so bad that ESPN2 switched to another game midway through the 3rd quarter. Way to go Hoosiers.
After Rocks, I went home to prepare myself physically and mentally for the LTHS Class of '96 10-year reunion. Props must go out to Kellene C. for organizing (or organising, for you British readers) a pre-reunion happy hour at the Jefferson Tap, which was a couple blocks from the actual reunion, which was at the East Bank Club. There were probably 100 to 150 people that showed up to the happy hour, and it was definitely an environment more welcoming of socializing than the actual reunion room (which reeked of a stuffy wedding reception room). People are used to hanging out in bars anyway, so I thought it was a good call.
Overall, the reunion was a lot less awkward than I ever could have hoped. I actually had -- dare I say it -- fun. As far as I could tell, whatever pretension people may have had in high school (and there probably wasn't as much as we've convinced ourselves to remember) was gone. Everyone was just there to have a good time and catch up with people they haven't seen in a while. And honestly, there were people there who I had nothing to say to and who had nothing to say to me. Those are the people that got a simple "hi" in passing and gave one in exchange, rather than forcing ourselves into an awkward conversation. That being said, I did have several lengthy, non-awkward conversations with people I didn't know all that well in high school, so that was good. In addition to the non-awkwardness, what surprised the hell out of me was that everyone looked pretty much the same, although I will say that facial hair should be banned at high school reunions, if only for recognition reasons. Several people said that I looked "the exact same" as I did in high school. I wasn't sure if they were insulting me or not.
I was most impressed with the showing made by my fellow Cossitt Elementary School alumni. While I overstated it Saturday night that it seemed like 20 out of the 30 Cossitt Class of '90 grads were there (it was more like 12 out of 50 or 60), it was still a pretty good showing. Because I know you care, here are the Cossitteers who showed up, as well as what I found out about them (last names abbreviated so as to protect their identities from association with this abortion that I call a blog):
- Trupti P. - Nurse practitioner at Rush Medical Center here in Chicago; was mistaken by Graham A. at the happy hour for his boss's daughter, who did not go to LT
- Nate A. - Owns his own graphic design firm here in Chicago
- Jennifer P. - Works in sales for Career Builder; does not play any part in putting monkeys in suits
- Chris S. - In grad school at UIC for psychology; teaches a couple classes there and coaches track; married
- Katie M. (even though she only went to Cossitt for a year or so) - Lives in the ATL, where I think she said she was a paralegal, but in all likelihood I'm wrong on that one
- Jessica W. - Stone-cold pimpin' in LA working in music promotions; gets a free trip to the Dominican Republic to go to some convention about DJ equipment
- Maria T. - Teaches elementary school in the western burbs; used to teach social studies (I think), but now teaches PE and seems to thoroughly enjoy it
- Erin M. - Is capable of saying "hi" in passing
- Eric B. - Teaches 8th grade social studies in the western burbs; still hilarious; married to fellow LT Class of '96er Megan H.
- Kammy C. - Still has red hair
- Mike V. - Married; was told by someone there that he "looked healthy," apparently implying that he looked sickly in high school
- Me - Married
After the official reunion ended, many of us went back to Jefferson Tap. I drank some more, caught up with some more people, and ended up leaving at 5am (which is apparently how late Jefferson Tap is allowed to stay open). Then the few of us that were still standing, wandered around the empty streets looking for cabs and taking pretty hilarious drunken pictures that Blogger is preventing me from uploading (I'll post them later, when Blogger is more cooperative). I eventually found myself a cab, and I "slept" for nearly the whole ride home.
Sunday
It turns out that going to bed at 5:30am affects the body adversely, especially when you get up before 11. For the second day in a row I woke up needing some Excedrin Migraine. Whoever invented that stuff should win an eternal Nobel Prize for his/her lifesaving work in the field of hangover cures. Jester and I took Harley for a squirrel-chasing-filled trip over to Lincoln Park. Jessie promised me turtles, and this time she came through. Big time. I saw 4 turtles in one of the ponds in the Park. Those little guys have no idea that they saved a librarian's life.
After that, I hurriedly wrote my sketch for my Intro to Comedy Writing class at Second City, and then went to class. It was the last class. Everyone presented their sketches. Laughs were had. Class got done early. I start the next class in 2 weeks. Good times.
And because we got done early, I got to see a greater chunk of the Bears game than I would have been able to do otherwise. It's safe to say that the Bears are good this year.
Monday
At the behest of Holt "Gimme Some" Hedrick, I checked to see if the Illinois bar exam results were posted. Sure enough they were. The 11344 applicant number that showed up on the screen indicated that I had indeed passed the bar exam, as did the guys sitting on either side of me. Only 48 more states until I reach my goal.
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