Giddyup Class of '88

Tom is older than you all think. His 20 year high school reunion was o'er the weekend. We had fun, we aren't fuddy-duddies. There was keg beer and stories about keg beer parties. Class photos, slideshows & such. And keg beer. And more keg beer.

As the keg beer settles in Tom's tummy he decides to take himself to the dance floor. He rocked it, of course, as the blackest white boy you'll ever see. But during the lone [yuk] country song, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy" [always a crowd pleaser when Bud Light is involved] he decided to drop to the floor on all fours. Um, okay - he's being a horse. He's not that drunk, I assume.

Before I can turn around & walk away [too sober to ride bareback] I see someone take what Tom SO WRONGLY assumed was my place atop the cowboy/horse. And she proceeds to giddyup on my husband for at least 40 beats/measures/whatever. And then I see a half-dozen digital camera flashes go off. And then I go off.

Come to find out, once a high school tramp - always a tramp.

Congrats, class of '88. Helluva party.