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Tuesday, Oct. 14, 2003 | link Hey, Class of '88! Wow it sure has been awhile, about five years actually. Since the ten-year reunion? I don't know if you remember, I was the one who grabbed away the mic to pay screaming tribute to the Safety Dance. With the red wine splashed across my Northern half? And the "Hello! My name is ... ONE DIRTY CUSTOMER" sticker pasted to my ass? Or maybe you visited the ladies room during the half-hour I sat there on the sink, rubbing my face with toilet seat covers? (Thanks to whichever one of you suggested that as the best way to blot away face shine -- I needed a nice, quiet project just then.) Or were you one of the many still-living-at-home people I tried to force into a "parent swap" so the rest of us could stop thinking of you as "sad, so sad," and admire you instead for looking after an elderly couple? I may even have cornered you personally, in one of my "let me tell you how I really feel" tete-a-tete offensives. Like the "total liar, and maybe necrophiliac" I spoke to at length. (Was that your crotch I grabbed? I'm sorry.) Or the girl with the aggressive tan whom I kept calling "Fruit Leather". Or the guy I cried on for not remembering that he felt me up the summer before eighth grade, at that party? In any case, I have yet to receive my invitation to the fifteen-year reunion. Perhaps you don't have my most recent address? Well now you do! Until then, we're the Class of '88, Go Red Tail Hawks (nee Indians)!
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