After having a weekend filled with quips like, "I'm am SO totally blogging this moment!" there comes the pressure of actually having to live up to it in the blogosphere. (Yes, I said the word "blogosphere" but our President says "The Google" so give me a break.)
I will say this: You haven't really enjoyed your high school reunion until you've crashed the actual high school party next door. Yes, I'm talking a party with real live seventeen-year-olds wearing Village People costumes and NBA-style afros. They will boo you and call you lame but it will be awesome nonetheless, even if it's in your own mind.
Also, a little Bon Jovi never hurt anyone. Seriously, are we really that old that in a crowd of 70-odd people we could only get five or six to shake a little groove thing? It's not like we're going to be seeing each other for another ten years or anything...
Shout-outs to Shiow and Mr. Puri for rocking the Perkins at our own private reunion after-party. (Paul, where have you been all my life? My love for people with a penchant for sarcastic banter has no bounds. Hence, my love for Shiow.)
....Ok, I'm a terrible blogger and I can't live up to the hype. I will end now by asking anyone who was there taking pictures to please email some (because apparently many of you have found me here on the internet without my knowledge- what's up with that?)
Or maybe you'd rather save the photos and use them as blackmail in the future. Whatever.




