I have my 30-year high school reunion this weekend.
Feeling pretty good about it. I've dropped about 12 pounds since January, still have all my hair, have my lies all worked out (yeah, I'm a venture capitalist...yeah, I'm a test pilot for the Navy...yeah, I'm chairman of Disney...yeah, this is my wife -- former Playboy Playmate of the Year AND a brain surgeon...). Hey, I'm from out of town -- nobody checks this stuff.
At least I WAS feeling good, until I got the directions to the Friday night mixer at the American Legion Hall (emphasis added): You'll come down Main Street and turn left at Stewart's. Just go down about a block or so...that's John Street. Look for the Legion on your left, the funeral home on your right.
Yeah, that's right -- some joker booked the reunion into a place RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM A FUNERAL HOME.
I guess that will come in handy if anyone keels over dead while disco dancing to "Boogie Oogie Oogie."
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