This is not new.  The song is not new, this remake is not new.  I don’t care.  I love it.  I love the original, and I love this remake.

As my 20 year high school reunion draws closer (OMFG - it’s this weekend!!!!!) I am getting more and more nervous.  Not many people that I actually really knew back then seem to be coming to this shindig.  That is partly because almost all my really good friends in high school graduated the year before me.  I have recently reconnected with Kelly and she is most certainly going (she’s on the planning committee), but beyond that, the friends of mine that were actually in my class that I’ve reconnected with are for the most part not coming to the reunion.

This is why I’m having on and off anxiety attacks about this weekend.  There is also one person that is potentially coming to this reunion that I do NOT want to see at all.

Today, out of the blue, I received an email from an old classmate.  Our reunion committee has a website where you can register and put in your contact information to be contacted about the reunion and by other classmates.  I registered and have been contacted by a few folks that I was friends with but lost touch with.  The email today was from a woman and it was a very, very warm email.  Looking SO forward to seeing me since we were such good friends back in high school.  Very lovely email really.

The problem?  I have NO clue who she is.  The other nice thing about the site is that the reunion organizers uploaded all of our senior yearbook pictures under each profile.  I immediately jumped over there to see if maybe seeing her face would help me remember who she was.  Ummm, no.  I have NO clue who this girl is.  I do not remember here even a little bit.  Not the name and not the face.  Could be very interesting come Friday night at the reunion picnic.

I have the remainder of this week off work.  Sweet, sweet vacation.  I am planning to sleep in tomorrow, then go and get my nails/toes done, get my hair cut/colored and hopefully find a freaking dress for this partay.  I do not wear dresses anywhere - even to work.  I jeans to work every day.  Ugh.  I found a few cute ones online that I hope the stores have in stock because it is too late for me to order them and have them shipped.  YAY for procrastination.

I don’t have time for a long, drawn out post about the Foo Fighters concert last night, but here it is in a nutshell. 

FUCKING AWESOME. 

They played for nearly 3 hours, Dave Grohl is so hot it is unbelievable.  He’s also really, REALLY funny.  The played half the show on a small round stage maybe 30 to 50 feet from where we were.  Miss Laci got some GREAT pictures.  I’m going to steal them from her as soon as she uploads them to her Flickr account. 

The girls left this morning at about 8am, headed back east.  It was so good to see them.  :) 

Okay, gotta run…..more details later, I’m sure. 

After Friday night’s drunken behavior, we rolled out of bed at like 9:30 or so.  Well, I should say that Miss Monique sent me a text message (she was in the livingroom and I was upstairs in my room) that she was up, but that Miss Laci may very well sleep all day.  LOL  We finally got her up and showered so we could go eat.  We made it over to one of my favorite little Italian places, Stefanina’s.  This place has the most awesome appetizer ever.  EVER.  It’s cubes of cheddar cheese that are breaded and then deep fried, served with melted butter/parmesean for dipping.  OH MY GOD.  These things are like deep fried sex on a platter.  The girls were very impressed.

After stuffing ourselves silly, we headed down to U City to go visit Iron Age tatoo.  I took in a few pictures of the zodiac signs I wanted combined and asked the artist to “do something” with them.  He came up with a design I liked and we went back to his booth.

It is halfway between my bra strap and my waist, right in the middle of my back.  I LOVE IT.  The two arrows represent my son and I (we are Sagittarius) and the curvy thing is the zodiac for Leo (the Terrorist).  Originally I wanted the cross bar on both of the arrows, but the way the design is set up, the cross bar doesn’t really work into the design, and I decided that it would just be on one to represent me, and the other one, without the cross bar, represents the boy.  Let me tell you something….this one hurt so much.  Thankfully it’s rather small and it took the dude less than 15 minutes to do it, but they were 15 VERY painful minutes.  Holy crap. The artist (who was very VERY cute, by the way) kept asking me about my job and stuff to distract me and then suddenly he was done.  He kept asking me if I was okay.  LOL  When I went to pay for the tattoo, my hands were shaking so hard I could barely pull my card out of my wallet.  It was the left over adrenaline from being so tensed up during the tat I guess.

After that we headed over to go do the Brewery tour at Anheiser Bush.  The tour is 100% free and you get two free beers at the end (rock on!!).  Apparently everyone in St. Louis was there yesterday because people are worried that InBev will do away with the free tours.  By the time we got there, all the tours for the rest of the day were full, and the stand by line was like 250 people long.  Uh, we turned around and left.  The girls got pictures of a couple of the Clydesdales we could see from the road, but that’s it.

Halfway home I got a call from the Terrorist asking me to come pick her up from her friends house. There had been a huge girlfight in the street in front of her friends house.  The friend was involved, but my Terrorist was not.  However, the police officer that was called wanted me to come get her.  She was in the back of the police cruiser and was scared because they searched her (one of the girls, trying to get her in trouble, had told the police she had weed on her ~ which she did not of course).  Lordy.  I picked her up, had a nice conversation with the officer that was holding her and we headed to the grocery store for dinner fixins.

Made tacos for dinner and we ate and ate and ate.  And then we drank.  We drank a LOT.  A WHOLE LOT.  We watched Porky’s and we talked and laughed so much my sides ached.  I received a really shitty email from my stupid ex-cocksucking-husband that had me so fired up.  I basically told him that I am no longer going to even be cordial to him.  Not until he pays me the $30,000 in back child support he owes me.  He had my son with him and was bringing him home to me this morning so I told him that he was not even welcome on my porch.  Hell, I didn’t want him in my driveway.  Ugh.

We went to bed at 4:30am and got up about 9:30am.  Poor Miss Monique is sick, sick, sick.  Not hangover sick, but really sick.  She is currently sleeping up in my bed.  If she isn’t feeling better soon she may miss the show.  :(  Poor thing.

Okay, I’ve been working on this post for like 2 hours now.  I need to grab a bite to eat and begin thinking about getting ready for the concert. 

Miss Laci here.

Um, yeah. We are TOTALLY fucking drunk. I’m sitting here with Miss Lucy and Miss Monique, emptying bottle after bottle of booze while watching some cheese-tastic 80s movies. We’re on “Grease 2″ right now — and Lucy and I are singing along, embarassing the fuck out of Lucy’s 13-year-old Terrorist.

It’s a good night… and there’s still one more to go.

Miss Laci and Miss Monique arrived at my casa at about 8pm last night.  After Miss Monique and I made an emergency run to the redneck convenience store at the corner to get some Diet Coke, we began drinking.  And drinking.  And drinking.  LOL

After having several drinks, I decided it was time for me to try the hula hooping thing on the Wii Fit.  This was probably not the best idea.  First off, I had to set up the Wii board for me, which involved a lot of balancing things.  This was so not a pretty sight.  After all the liquor my sense of balance was not so good.  I finally did manage to get through all of that and commenced to the hula hooping.

It was not pretty.  And I think Miss Laci might have video taped it, but if she posts it ANYWHERE, I’ll cut a bitch.

Afterward we were hungry, ordered pizza - which took forfuckingever to get here.  And then I think I might have scared the poor little pizza boy.  He rang the bell, after which I jumped up and SCREAMED “PIZZZZZZZZA”.  I drunkenly signed the credit card slip and I believe I apologized to him for us being drunk.  LOL  We ate, drank a bit more and then blew up the air mattress.  Well, that was a difficult task, requiring 3 tries, but we finally did it.  I believe I left those bitches sleeping down stairs and went up to bed at about 2:30am.

At 9:00am Miss Monique texted me from downstairs that she was awake but our Baby Bitch might be passed out all day.  LOL  We are all up and TWO OF US are showered (c’mon Laci…..we’re STARVING!!!) and ready to go out and find something to do today here in St. Louis.  Maybe the Bush brewery tour - while its still free (before InBev changes that!), but not sure.

Tonight’s plans are to eat mexican food (home made), drink more (woo hooo!) and watch cheesy 80’s flicks.

Gotta go dry my hair and get Laci up to take a shower so we can GO EAT.

Heh.  In less than 4 days I am going to get to see MYYYYY (do you hear that Miss Laci and Miss Monique - MY) boyfriend\ Dave Grohl in concert when the Foo Fighters come to town.  The Foo Fighters are going to be here in the hell that I call home (St. Louis) on Sunday, July 20th.  I.  CANNOT.  WAIT.

Unfortunately, only 2 of my 3 bitches are going to be able to make it for this get together.  Miss Sodapop is not able to be here this weekend.

Speaking of the bitches.  I was on Jester’s show tonight.  The subject of the 4 of us came up.  For clarification, Jester asked me to explain who the Klassy Bitches are.  Well holy crap, I thought the whole of the internets knew us!!  I mean, we are internet famous, aren’t we**?????  No?  Really?  Fuck.  Okay, for those that aren’t aware (and you 3 people must be living under a rock or something…..LOL), here is the breakdown of who we are - oh, and we almost might be known as the Terror Quadruplets.  A name that was bestowed upon us, but one that we have kind of adopted.  And love.  I’m just sayin.

Miss Sodapop = The Chatty Bitch

Miss Lucy = The LOUD Bitch

Miss Monique = The Sassy Bitch

Miss Laci = The Baby Bitch

Okay, so Miss Monique and Miss Laci will be arriving at my casa in the horrible St. Louis tomorrow, Friday - and I CANNOT WAIT!!!  I am so excited to see mah gurls.  Anyone that says that friends, or especially girlfriend relationships don’t mean anything go suck a nail.  I love these girls.  To a stupid, ridiculous amount.  When I have a great day I call them.  When I have a shit day I call them.  When I am just stuck in traffic and need company on my drive home from work I CALL THEM.  And they never fail to entertain me.  And crack me up.  And most especially, when I am freaking out from some horrible thing I’ve done (which happens a lot - just ask them) I CALL THEM.

And they are always there for me.  Because they love me.  For some insane reason I can’t quite fathom, they love me.  And for that I am grateful.  I will NEVER question why.  I don’t care why.  All I care is that they do.  Because I. LOVE. THEM. BACK.  just as much if not more.

(holy crap, how did this go from a geeky concert post to a smooshy lovey-dovey post?????)

Here nor there.  I love them.  And they are coming to me so we can hang out and see great live music.

So, the girls get here on Friday night.  I am going to find something to do with them here in the stupid ass moronically hot Lou on Saturday during the day.  Then our plans are to camp out in my livingroom Saturday night and watch cheesy 80’s movies, eat homemade mexican food (made by me…..cuz I am the bomb diggety and a great Mexican cook to boot) and drink copious amounts of tequila.  Foos on Sunday night (with the Terrorist, can you beleive it!!!???!!!) and then the girls have to go home on Monday (booooooo!).

Oh.  And also???  I might get a tattoo on Saturday.

I’m just sayin. 

I get the most awesome spam comments on here.  I really do.  I have nearly unending offers for percocet, vicodin, tramadol, viagra, cialis and the occasional offer for oxy contin.  If that doesn’t trip your trigger, how about offers for videos?  Sex videos, bondage videos, rough sex videos, forced sex videos, gang bang videos, and quite possibly my very favorite, videos of people having sex with animals.

So, if you are looking for any of those things?  Let me know.  I can totally hook you up.

What the hell is wrong with people?  Are their lives so shallow and unfulfilled that they must resort to cutting other people down to feel better about themselves while using the excuse “if they didn’t want to be picked on, they wouldn’t put their information out there”?

Congratulations.  You, acting anonymously, have proven you are a bigger twat than the rest of the internet.  YAY!

Your mother must be so proud.

So, Yoshi is running a little contest since there is not going to be a Blogathon this year.  He was planning to give his prizes away during Blogathon but since there isn’t going to be one he has asked for people to blog their most embarrassing moment.  Okay Yoshi, I hope you are happy dude, here is mine.

I am a band geek.  I have played flute since I was 8 years old.  Say what you will about band geeks but we DID IT RIGHT.  My high school was a wealthy one and when we went to away games and contests we did not go in the traditional school buses.  Oh no.  My school had purchased old retired Greyhound buses.  Which became the “make out buses”.  But that is another post all together.

Scene:  My junior year in high school, 1987.  I played flute so I qualified for marching band as well as orchestra.  HS marching band had already paid off with a trip to Disneyland to march down main street (with Mickey Mouse leading the band - it was an unbelievable experience) when I was a sophomore in highschool.  In my Junior year (1987) the orchestra was invited to play in some music festival in New Orleans.

In 1987, the legal drinking age in New Orleans was still 18.  OMG.  We had enough of us that WERE actually 18 and enough of us (me) that LOOKED 18 that we had no issues getting liquor.  Needless to say it was a FUN TRIP.  On the first day of our trip, someone I new peripherally at that time, but have come to be VERY good friends with now, Kyle, had jumped into the hotel pool with all his clothes on.  ALL of them.  We migrated to his room at some point because they had bathtub hurricanes in his room and I saw a pair of his (black) underwear sitting on the window sill to dry.  My best friend Elaine dared me to take them, so I did.  Heh.

I said all of THAT to tell you my most embarassing moment.

Each year, we had an end of year semi formal band banquet at the end of the year.  It so happens that year while we were in NOLA I broke out with the chicken pox (yes, I was 17, and  yes it was HORRIBLE to have the pox at such an advanced age) and wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it to the party at all.  By the grace of whatever, I was healed up enough by the time the banquet rolled around to attend. I was covered in scabby sores from the chicken pox, but I was no longer contagious.  So, I got all dolled up.  In my LAVENDER LAME’ DRESS (sweet lord, what were WE thinking???) and went to the banquet.  Each year, the outgoing seniors had a shot at the underclassmen, but then, so did the Junior class.  Out of my little circle of friends, I was deemed the most suitable (read: most NOT shy) to present Kyle’s underwear to him in front of EVERYONE.  And I did.  And it was fantastic. 

What NO ONE, including Kyle, know is this little fantastic fact.  At some point, me and my little posse of girls had gone to the bathroom before the announcements and dedications began.  No problem, typical girl stuff.  Pee, fix your hair, reapply lip gloss, etc.  But there was one thing.  One thing that my BEST FRIENDS in the world didn’t tell me.  We all finished, and walked out of the bathroom to head back into the ballroom.  And I proudly walked out of that bathroom, down the hall and back into the ballroom….

WITH MY FUCKING FORMAL GOWN TUCKED INTO MY PANTYHOSE.

And, back then in the 80’s…..if you were wearing pantyhose, you weren’t wearing PANTIES.

Oh, holy Jesus.

Is there is anything worse than that?  Maybe walking into the party DEAD.  That might be the only thing worse that what I did.

And when I looked around…..there were all my girlfriends…..laughing so hysterically they couldn’t breathe.

I wanted to die.  And right after I died?  I was gonna kill them ALL.