Friday, October 22

To the airport. Once again.

Ohio bound. Tomorrow is Anne's 25th High School Reunion.

I considered not writing how many years, but I think she looks damn good for her age. And now I've compared her to a Buick, I'll also tell you how freaked out I am that some of her schoolmates are grandparents.

"I'm freaked out"

But I'm going in with an open mind. I'll be playing the role of the eccentric Englishman that Anne married. I'm hoping to hear the phrase "He knows shit about College Football, but damn he looks good in that Ascot and monocle."

I'm weighing up the pros and cons of saying "We couldn't have them", when people ask why we have no kids. Or better yet, "We're not allowed" because of some Draconian law drawn up after the War of Independence.

Here I am in my first year at High School. What a Fucking Hipster!

I wish we had organized School reunions, if only to angrily right the wrongs that occurred. It would be fantastic to re-inact the time when half the kids in school would flick gallons of spit and saliva via their bus pass onto the backs of unsuspecting, naive kids in Fred Perry sweaters.

Or watch a bunch of balding 40-somethings hold a kid against a wall while everyone else kicked a soccer ball from point blank range into the kids bollocks.

I'd like to visit my design teacher and tell him he was wrong. Alternatively I could tell my English teacher that he was right.

Happy days.

Back to tomorrow, maybe at the airport I'll be able to pick up one of these bad boys.

America. Fuck yeah! Nothing screams patriotism like a Stars and Stripes neck pillow.

Land of the (neck spasm) Free!

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