Paula Abdul – What’s sad is that at one time I thought Straight Up was the greatest song ever. What’s even sadder is that I didn’t realize she couldn’t sing until Rush Rush. Still love that mushy song tho!

J.Lo – I actually fought with my sister over this woman’s pipes. The glutes had me duped!

Bobby Brown – Who cares if he couldn’t sing? The music was fun, and it was his prerogative!

Lisa Lisa – Some of you young cats won’t remember her dying cat sound or her band, the Cult Jam. Look them up on Youtube and don’t judge me. I was a teen and she had big boobs.

Samantha Fox – See Lisa Lisa for explanation.

Janet Jackson – Y’all know Janet can’t sang. She just looks good while doing it.

Cyndi Lauper – She just wanted to have fun and so did I! In retrospect, she sounded like a hyena getting whipped for stealing loose change.

Madonna – See Janet.

New Edition – Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky and Mike… Ralph carried you squawking macaws.

Roger Troutman – Again, you young cats probably don’t recall this guy. He was the T-Pain of the 80′s. He spoke into what looked like a respirator to produce those synthesized vocals. You might remember his contribution to 2Pac’s California Love. I know, you’re shocked that T-Pain isn’t an original.

T-Pain – Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see his star fade, but it was fun while it lasted, and every generation needs a Roger.

Shakira – On the fence about her vocals, but she’s smokin hot, so she gets a pass.

Beyonce – She sounds like she’s sitting on a washer during the spin cycle, but… well, see Shakira.

Far be it from me to criticize pop culture… actually, that’s not very far from me, but this time it’s more than justified! I haven’t been this let down since The Michael Richards’ Show. Below you will find my list of complaints about this movie (surprise!). SPOILER ALERT!

1. Katie’s Shady Past – While I do not believe in ghosts or demons, I do believe in crazy, and Katie was a big ball of that. Even as a nonbeliever, I would still be worried about a chick who claims to have been haunted since she was 8. It would only be a matter of time before this heifer is at the foot of my bed, burning my house to the ground.

2. Katie Gets Froggy – Micah said his camera costs half of what he makes in a day. I estimate that camera at $5,000. Some quick math tells us that my man Micah is pulling down $2,600,000 a year. That’s some serious coin. Katie, ON THE OTHER HAND, is a professional student. So please tell me how this chick has the nerve to kick my man out of rooms that he paid for? You wanna be alone, you and your demon better go sleep in the convertible. This MY house!

3. Unimaginative Demons – This is a problem I have with lots of supernatural flicks. Invisible creatures walking around doing stupid sh*t all night. Can you imagine returning to Hell and handing over your productivity report to your boss? “You closed some doors, left the lights on, watched some TV, moved a set of keys, threw a shoe at a chandelier and you short sheeted their bed? What is this, Johnson? You’re a demon, not Dennis the Menace! And what’s all that white crap you’re tracking all over my floor?!”

4. Incompetent Ghost Hunter – What was up with this worthless SOB? “I don’t do demons! I’m only trained in ghosts!” Well, don’t you have any holy water or a proton gun you can leave behind? Reminds me of that skit from In Living Color where Tommy Davidson goes to work in the fast food joint and claims he can work a shake machine. After it explodes he claims, “Oh see that was chocolate. I only have experience with strawberry and vanilla.”

5. Micah the Moron – If there is one time you need Jesus on your side, it is when demons are squatting at your pad. Therefore, you probably aren’t gonna get any cool points from JC if you throw a crucifix in a fire. In fact, you’ll probably get a few more demons assigned to your watch.

6. Foot Powder – What was that gonna solve? Sure, it lets you know someone’s in the room, but I thought we established that with the Home Alone antics mentioned earlier. But Micah’s gonna fix it. Sorry, but unless Hell Boy sees his foot prints in the baby powder and yells, “The jig is up!” and runs away, all you got a is demon with white feet.

7. Ouija Boards – People always get their knickers in a knot over this line to the undead, but here’s a fun fact, Ouija is a trademark of Parker Brothers. You know, the same cats who brought you Monopoly, Risk and Trivial Pursuit? So, unless the Ouija boards are sprinkled with a lil bug-a-boo dust at the end of production, you run the same supernatural risks with your thimble landing on Park Place.

8. Gratuitous Nudity – There was none! Oh, there was the tease of such treasures, but we never got the full monty. It wouldn’t have saved this movie, but it would have made it slightly more tolerable.

9. Katie – Not only was this chick annoying, she was the cause of all this tomfoolery. Once it was established that the demon was there because of her, Micah should have sent that lil freeloader packin’! Then this sack of whine has the nerve to blame it all on Micah and his camera (which she held for half the movie)! Micah, there are plenty of ample bosomed women in the world who have jobs and aren’t being shadowed by the undead.

10. Been Done – You can never duplicate The Blair Witch Project. We all lost our cherries with that one, and we will never be duped again.

1. Summer Nights (Grease )- This is the Holy Grail of musicals for suburbanites across the nation. And while it’s a fun lil diddy, one can’t help but to notice the implication of date rape.

Tell me more, tell me more, was it love at first sight?
Tell me more, tell me more, did she put up a fight?

In other words, “Did you have to strong arm that b*tch into submission?” And the level of excitement with which that line is delivered makes it all the more creepy. The music should have stopped and Danny shoulda been like, “No…freak…” And while I’m on the subject of Grease, try to get a song on the radio these days with the words Pussy Wagon in the lyrics. Yeah, those were more innocent times…

2. Do Me (Bell Biv Devoe) – BBD was hot in the early 90′s with hit after hit, but I don’t get why they were never taken to task over their child molester’s anthem

Back stage, underage adolescent, how ya doin?
Fine, she replied
I said I’d like to do the wild thing

Were you all too busy doing the Roger Rabbit to notice Ronnie explicitly asked for sex from an underage girl? The next line is “Action took place.” It TOOK PLACE! How did this make it on the airwaves? All the time wasted trying to prosecute R Kelly, and here Ronnie DeVoe had a taped confession.

3. Don’t Be Afraid (Aaron Hall of Guy) – Before he got “Sean Combs’d” by Teddy Riley, Aaron Hall was a hot commodity. This particular line should’ve set off Amber Alerts all across the country.

You can yell and you can hit me
It just makes me horny

So what you’re saying, Aaron, is, girls struggling to get your ashy hands off of them is quite the turn on? Tell me, did you ever do Grease in school?

4. Into the Night (Benny Mardones) – This song starts off clearly indicating the singer’s interest in jail bait.

She’s just sixteen years old
Leave her alone, they say,
Separated by fools

No, Benny, separated by LAW! And I think THEY are offering some pretty sound advice. Find girls your own age before you wind up in the pen singing “Into the Rectum.”

5. I’m On Fire (Bruce Springsteen) – Much like Into the Night, I’m On Fire is a jail bait jingle right from the start.

Hey little girl is your daddy home?
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
I got a bad desire
I’m on fire

Even without all the importuning that follows, the 1st line is creepy enough. When has the question, “Hey lil girl is your daddy home?” not been followed by an Amber Alert or a gunshot? Someone needs to check the Boss’ backyard for shallow graves.

6. Age Ain’t Nothing Number (Aaliyah) – There are no offending lyrics in this song, but its title combined with the fact that it was written by R Kelly, combined with the fact that Aaliyah was 14 at the time raises a huge red flag. How was this man not convicted? The song might as well have been called, “I’m Having Sex with You as Soon as You finish This Song, Despite the Fact That You’re Young Enough to Be My Daughter.”

Beliefs are like fears. They don’t have to be rational to exist.Take me for example. I’m afraid of mice. Now, I’m fairly certain that in the history of musophobia, no mouse has ever directly brought harm to a human being. Nonetheless, I run like dysentery whenever mice are around. But at least I know I’m being irrational. That being said, let’s address some Gays in the Military concerns I’ve pulled straight from the net.

“We do not need to turn the military establishment into a sub culture mirroring San Francisco bath houses.”
What in Sam Hill do you think is gonna happen? They’re gonna tie the ends of their shirts into knots and wear camo Daisy Duke shorts while waving a rainbow flag? News flash, not every gay man is a Lady Gaga impersonator.

“i wouldent want to shower, and train with men that are gay, just my opinion.”
Well, I WOULDENT want to shower with someone who sounded out the word wouldn’t and thought it included an E. Besides, much like every woman does not want you, every gay man does not want you. If your argument is sexual assault, then you better start banning the heteros, because statistics say about 34% of women have been sexually assaulted during active duty. Talk about sexual deviancy!

“I don’t think our fighting men need ANY kind of distraction as they serve and risk their lives for our country.”
Okay, if you are in the middle of combat dodging, bullets, IED’s, mortars and suicide bombers and your main concern is some “Nancy Boy” checking out your glutes, then maybe YOU need to be banned from the military. Listen, Liberace could come back from the grave to give Ru Paul a double fisted handjob while playing “Dude Look Like a Lady” on the piano with his butt cheeks and I would only pause long enough to say, “Drop the c*ck and run!!”

“A TRUE Christian obeys God as ruler rather than men (Acts. 5:29), and when man’s laws contradict God’s laws, chooses to obey God!”
Okay, now quote me the verse that says gays can’t serve in the military. Take your time, I’m going to get a snack… Okay, what did you find? Still looking? Well, why you do that, keep in mind the fact that we knowingly allow atheists, racists and gang members in the military. Pretty sure the Good Book takes issue with those folks as well.

“You should be able to confidently trust that the Marine next to has your back, and not like that.”
Yo, retard, the DADT policy acknowledges the fact that there are ALREADY ARE gay marines! How is knowing that he rides the Hershey highway make him any less trustworthy? He doesn’t change at all. The only thing that changes is your perception.

I could go on and on, but you get my drift. You can color your reasoning with morality, religion, tradition, whatever, but the reality is, it all stems from fear, hatred and ignorance. Mankind has a history of fearing and/or hating what he doesn’t understand. I was once very anti-gay until I really thought about how I was discriminated against. How the 1st time I was called nigger was at Christian Camp. How I was stopped at Sinclair by security because they “hadn’t seen me around before (WTF??!).” And how I was pulled over in Oakwood and asked about recent robberies and the number of times I had been arrested. I hated how that felt, and I could never make anyone else feel that way. If the only way to build yourself up is to tear someone else down, then you must already feel pretty low.

A person wants to defend our country with his/her life. How can you have a problem with that?

They are both married with children
They were seen together a number of times at a convenience store
An acquaintance of the 2 saw her hiding in the back seat of his car
She withdrew some money from the ATM
He withdrew some money from the ATM
Her car was found abandoned
His car was found abandoned
His wife said he wouldn’t hurt “Tiffany”
They were both found in Miami

Now, for the Conclusion Jumping Event. Let me start by saying a convenience store is an odd place to be seen together more than once. Were they refueling on Code Red Dew and Flamin’ Hot Funyuns (yes, they make those)? When riding in Tre’s car, why was she in the backseat, while his dog sat up front? I can’t imagine the dog called shotgun first. They both take out cash. Sounds like you’re planning something. You abandon your cars. I know long term airport parking is steep, but leaving your car with the keys in it at a public park isn’t exactly the next best thing. Why is his wife calling her Tiffany, like they host Pampered Chef parties together? And why didn’t she report HIM missing? Miami? That’s not like heading down to Ikea on a whim.

So what are my conclusions? Post Partum Depression? More like a Post Partum Booty Run. They’re sneaking around 7 Eleven. She’s hiding in the back seat. This was planned. We’ve all seen the news. If you have a family and you vanish, people will look for you. You could give her the benefit of the doubt and say she was depressed and acted on a whim and didn’t mean to worry people. Well when you disappear AND abandon your car, folks get worried. There was obvious intent based on how the vehicles were found.

“Maybe if I leave my keys in the ignition, people will realize that I’m coming back. But just to be sure, let me flatten a tire.”

And why does the wife seem to know this woman and not report him missing? Seems like she was glad to have him gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if she introduced the 2 and drove them to the airport.

“Bags? Y’all don’t need no bags. Just pick up and go. I’ll tell everybody where you at. Here’s money for the Greyhound, never mind I’ll drive you myself.”

And or course they’re found 5 days later sipping Sex on the Beach, probably while having sex on the beach.

So what should be done? Obvious actions like public flogging, and perhaps a couple months on the chain gang are in order. But there are some possible unforeseen ramifications for these two, Tiffany in particular. She better not get snatched for real within the next 20 years. Try gathering up a search party twice in one decade for this chick.

“Search party? You got better luck getting’ me to join the Tea Party! I missed The Young and the Restless 3 days in a row searchin’ for that heifer! I’ll be damned if I miss Victor and Nicky gettin’ remarried again!”

Al Quaeda could have this woman on video with a knife at her neck pleading with the US to get out of Iraq and the American public still wouldn’t believe her.

“Uh huh. She ain’t been kidnapped. I used see to her at the Quickie Mart talkin’ to Abdul all time during his shift. Sippin’ grape Icees and eatin’ beef jerky. They done run off. She good for that kinda sh*t!”

Whatever her home life was like, whatever she was going through, there’s really no excuse to disappear and worry a whole city. I think based on the abandoned cars, the pair should be charged with something. And you’re probably wondering why I’m not as hard on the guy as I am on the woman. Well, he was gone just as long as she was, and they only started looking for his @ss to locate her. Moral of the story, men don’t make good victims and are pretty much expected to disappear of their own free will. Women, at least leave a note.

I thought I’d have the morning to myself, but I forgot about retirees. Here’s a tip: whenever you find a break from your usual schedule and decide to make your rounds early in the day when no one’s around, you can count on retirees to squash those plans. There were probably 50 if there were a dozen! The one good thing I can say about it was that they were all on trams getting a guided tour. Now I like Cox (the park), but it really doesn’t seem like the guided tour kinda place. “Here we have some bluegill. Over there is an insanely large carp. Oh that critter is called a chipmunk.” If you don’t know what the plants are, then you’re in luck. There are signs everywhere. But anyway.

So I’m checking out the flora and the fauna when I notice this woman in a UD sweatshirt with a camera. You’d think a person in a park with a camera would be hunting subjects, but this bird had an odd gait. She had this deliberate stride, but didn’t seem to be heading anywhere in particular. She didn’t stop once to take a picture. “Oh well,” I thought and checked out the fish below. I watched in awe as these cannibalistic large mouth bass tried to eat their yearling kin. To my joy and dismay, they never got their meal. Suddenly, Annie Leibovitz is right behind me. As I jumped, she asked, “Are the turtles out today, or is it just the fish?” Now bear in mind that the Senior Tour was now long gone, and this lone white woman weighing a buck 20 was approaching this strange black guy. I figured she had guts, or she was up to something. Her question didn’t seem genuine (turtles hang out in plain view, so she knew they weren’t around), so I knew she was up to something.

“Just the fish, ” I replied. She remarked that it was a nice day, told me God bless and went on her way. She had that same determined stride. I went back to my fish watching and kept a close eye on her as she came in and out of view through various trees. At one point, she disappeared behind some trees, and a man came soon afterward heading the same way. I thought maybe he was stalking her, and I would’ve investigated, but I saw a robin and a cardinal mixing it up over a piece of food. The bird fight won my attention. Don’t judge! Bird fights are awesome! The best one I ever saw was between a sparrow and what looked like a giant hawk. They scrapped in the air for a bit, then the little sparrow jumped on the large bird’s back and rode him for 30 seconds, in midair! It was great. But I digress.

So what happened to our young photographer victim? Well, much to my surprise, she again popped up by my side. It was like Emilio from Mr Deeds! At this point I thought she was in cahoots with the dude and they were gonna jack me! Well, she informed me that she was doing a prayer walk and wanted to know if I had anything I needed her to pray for. I indeed had a Honey Do list of things the Lord could work on, but she probably only penciled in an hour for the task, so I declined. She then said, “Jesus wanted me to tell you that he loves you.”

I started to say, “Well you tell Jesus that we need that server back up and running so sales reps can get their ads!” Then I realized she probably wasn’t talking about our Jesus in IT that works out of our Dominican Republic office. I nodded and she went on her way.

I didn’t see her for the rest of the morning, so I assumed she must have circled my area continuously to work up the nerve to approach me. I then concluded that prayer walks probably weren’t just spiritual fitness multitasking. They were probably instructed to find folks to pray for. I then wondered if there was some kind of point system based on approachability. Seniors .5 points, Women 2 points, Men 10 points, Teenagers 25 points, Strange Black Men 50 points. She was going for the gold.

As I left, I got caught behind a grade school field trip (another group that jacks up early to midday plans). They were headed the same way, so it looked like I was following them for quite a while. It made the teachers understandably nervous. As I drove away, I wondered if that woman found a soul to pray for, if that man was really a pervert and if that robin beat that cardinal’s @ss. I guess I’ll never know, but that was my morning.

Too Nice

Dear Nice,
First of all, I wouldn’t spare this guy’s feelings or the horses I’d use to get out of there. Secondly, mean is more about intent and delivery than hurting someone’s feelings. Telling a guy you’re not interested isn’t mean. Telling a guy you’re not interested by using a bullhorn then spitting in his face is a different story.

Too many people confuse being mean with being honest, that’s because of an overactive Guilt gland. Guilt was meant to keep us from cheating on our taxes and abandoning unruly children in shopping carts. It was never intended to make you spend too much at Christmas, entertain your aunt’s hypochondria or keep company with people that could bore a dead man.

You also shouldn’t send mixed signals when you’re trying to get rid of a clinger. Saying you enjoyed talking to him makes him think he has a chance, and, by nature, people latch onto whatever gives them hope. Just be straight and don’t leave the door open for misunderstandings. That door needs to be closed and deadbolted with a couch shoved up against it. He’ll get the message.

I am the Strawboss. My door is always open closed.

I’ve been trying to stay neutral in a situation between my nephew and a former roommate, Matt. My nephew, Bob, is 26 and married with two kids. Matt was living with them to help make the rent while everyone was unemployed. Recently Matt moved out because things were just getting unbearable for all concerned there.

About 2 weeks ago, Matt posted some smack on Facebook about how Bob was selling things of his that were still at the house. To hear Matt tell it, he called the cops on Bob because he sold stolen items. To hear Bob tell it, Matt came to the house very late after the kids were in bed and caused a disturbance, yelling, screaming and threatening Bob. This caused Bob to call the police who made Matt leave the property. I’m sure there’s a police report somewhere and I’d love to read it to find out who’s telling the truth.

You might think that’s enough, but yesterday it got worse. Sometime when Matt was living with Bob, he had a fling with my niece, Amy. Amy is 22. Yesterday, Bob and Matt got into it again and Matt posted a comment about wanting to embarrass Bob and take away any credibility he might have. He mentioned that he slept with the sister (my niece), and that Bob is cheating on his wife, etc. Someone suggested that Matt write a note of all the things that Bob has done and tag everyone on Facebook who knows Bob so they can read it. Then he says Matt should post naked pictures of my niece. At that point, I couldn’t stay out of it. I posted my own comment. Matt agreed not to do anything with the pics, but I just read the latest and he has posted something on another site.

I guess I’ve gone past neutral at this point. The sad part is I don’t know who to believe because I am positive I’ve been lied to by every party involved. Unless someone is in actual physical danger, I can’t take this to my sister and her husband because they have gone through hell with their kids over the years and I just can’t add to it. I know none of this is my responsibility, but I can’t help but feel that if I can do something to diffuse this, that I should do it. I appreciate any advice you can give me. My main concern is that my great-nephew and great-niece are safe. The adults can fend for themselves.

Upset

Upset,
I have long held the belief that nothing causes a loss of maturity and common sense faster than Facebook, and it would appear that all parties involved started out in the hole. 1st of all, a boarder is not supposed to be a sole source of income. That’s like inviting someone over for dinner and asking them to bring a bucket of chicken. 2nd, you don’t shag your landlord’s sister. And 3rd, you don’t take nudie pics with your brother’s tenants. But, of course, settling your differences in the court of Facebook is the next logical step for those who engage in such buffoonery.

But what does all of this mean to you? Absolutely nothing. I know they have kids, and while they may be your concern, they aren’t you responsibility. This is just an extended audition for another sad reality show, and unless you plan on being a recurring extra, I suggest you remove yourself from the situation. While their actions indicate they are legally challenged, their driver’s licenses indicate they are of legal age, so saying, “I’ma tell ya momma!” really isn’t an option. Crazy people are contagious. Their crazy cooties spread quicker than swine flu on a Mexican pig farm, and the only vaccine is MYOB. Quarantine these carriers and get yourself some Airborne.

I am the Strawboss. You can go your own way.

I signed on for 2 nites a week for all of October, which is a pretty big commitment considering my napping schedule, but I was willing to make that sacrifice. I eagerly adorned an all black outfit, purchased a mask, and headed out for my first day on the job. I arrived with a spring in my step and a blood curdling scream in my heart. The first glaringly obvious thing I noticed was that I was the oldest person there. Now, by oldest I don’t mean I graduated before most of these people. I mean I graduated before most of these people were born! My fellow cast members began to notice as well, so I promptly grabbed a clipboard and pretended to be inspecting the electrical connections. Soon, Grace arrived and she laid down the law for the nite’s events. She emphasized no touching, staying at your posts and notifying security if anyone acted inappropriately, which, coincidentally, is the same instructions given to strippers at the clubs. Then she asked everyone for parental consent forms or proof of age. I plucked a grey hair from my chin and stapled it to my paperwork. Grace gave us our assignments, and just as I turned to leave, she asked me how I felt about chainsaws. Things were looking up.

After we were given our assignments, we all headed out to our posts. I was assigned to work with 3 teenage girls who repeatedly asked me my name. And not 3 times in a row because I was unclear. I mean every half hour. “And that guy over there is, what’s your name again?” And every time I told them, they must’ve heard something different, because my name kept evolving into odd variations. By the end of the nite, I was Rio de Janeiro.

Okay, now I need to inform you that 15 years ago, a psychic lesbian told me that I exuded an energy that attracted animals and children. Which is gravy, except that being the pied piper of wee folk is lot like trying to feed songbirds in your yard. Sooner or later you’re going to get a lot of frisky squirrels. And by squirrels, I mean teenage girls. Early on, I noticed a few were taking a shine to me, but I figured it was a big brother kind of thing. That was until I heard, “Hey, Dinerio. How old are you?” I immediately realized that this could go in one of two directions: 1. What’s your old @ss doing out here? Or 2. My friend thinks you’re cute. It was the latter. “My friend is 17 and she likes you.” I told her I was 37, and even in dark, I could see her eyes grow to the size of dessert plates. “This is how they got R. Kelly,” I thought. I considered asking Grace to place me with all boys, but then I remembered, “That’s how they got Michael!” I decided to tough it out… and keep my distance.

It was kinda slow at first, and the first few people were hard @ss, Jr. flips who were too cool to be scared. Okay, paying to get inside a haunted house to show everyone that you’re not scared is like buying a meal at the buffet and then just sitting there to prove you aren’t hungry. “I’m not hungry. Food doesn’t even smell good.” Guess what? We keep your money either way, jack@ss!

As things picked up, I started going all out. I wore knee pads so I could run up on people then drop down and slide in front of them with the chainsaw in hand. It’s pretty effective when done correctly. However, when done incorrectly, it’s a major FAIL! A chainsaw killer tends to lose his street cred when he winds up spinning on his back like a turtle with vertigo. A flooded chainsaw doesn’t score many points either. Yelling “raaarrgh” just doesn’t have the same effect.

As the nite worn on, my knee pads wore out. By 11, I had more bruises on my knees than David Letterman’s assistants. My age once again reared its ugly head in the form of strained thigh muscles, a sore shoulder and a missing voice. I left the park with a limp in my step and a frog in my throat. All things considered, it was still a pretty good time. I suspect as the Halloween season picks up, we will get more guests, I will get more graceful and the teenage girls will get the h*ll away from me. So I’m still excited about the whole experience and getting ready for next week. Because as Jack Skellington the Pumpkin King says, “I’ve got some new ideas that’ll really make them scream.” Stay tuned…

I am the Strawboss. “The freaks come out at night.”

I arrived at my old school and was immediately awash in not only strange faces, but young faces. I wasn’t mistaken for the help, but a few people did think I was a high school parent. I am NOT that old! The first familiar face was Denny, the maintenance guy. What’s sad is that Denny’s name did not immediately come to me. On the other hand, “Dynero!” rolled right off of his tongue, while I repeated in my head, “Danny? Denny? Danny. No, Donny… Denny?”. I settled on, “Hey you!” I encountered a few faculty members before I saw my first classmate. I knew her name before the soccer ball from a nearby game hit me in the head. The last thing I remembered was someone saying, “I guess he never played soccer.” I played for four years, Jerk.

When I came to, I was in the middle of a tour of the school’s facilities. There were lots of additions and renovations over the past 20 years. As I looked at the amazing improvements, all I could thinks was, “Where was all this sh*t when I was in school?” By now, a lot more classmates had arrived. I guess I should mention that I graduated with 27 people, so by “a lot,” I mean 6. We had enough for a decent group photo, so we huddled together and passed 8 cameras to someone’s spouse. We finished up right as Bell’s Palsy set in my face. I’m pretty sure I looked like Joan Rivers in those last few shots. Next, the gang decided that we’d meet up at a winery, followed an ice cream parlor, a nature walk, a Sock Hop and concluding with dinner. I opted to just show for dinner.

Dinner was at the Greene. For those unfamiliar with the Greene, it’s a large outdoor shopping center designed to help people forget they live in Dayton. When it was first built, it looked a lot like a facade for a movie studio set, like something right out of “Pleasantville.” I never visit the Greene (mostly due to conditions of my parole), so I got kind of lost walking around. After passing a jewelry store twice, the manager motioned for security. I finally found my destination and hooked up with what I thought was my group. 10 minutes later, I realized that none of their stories were familiar (it was dark!). Someone from the other side of the bar yelled my name, and I rejoined my classmates.

We smiled and laughed and very soon started playing the name game. “Do you remember” went on for about half an hour when I decided to mix it up. I started naming people from different schools to make everyone doubt their memories. “Come on! You remember Junebug Jones!” Remember, we only had 27 people in our class, so this one guy who was good in math became suspicious when I brought up classmate number 50. I overplayed my hand when I moved on to sitcom characters. The jig was up with Theo Huxtable.

My near 40 years began to show as the night drew long. I grew hoarse from TALKING OVER THE NOISE, and the cougars I saw grinding on each other went from entertaining to sad. I propped my eyelids open with toothpicks and said my goodbye’s. I had parked as far away as I could from the bar (through ignorance, not intent), so I bummed a ride back to my car. Good thing too, because it started raining. If you think a black man walking aimlessly around an upscale shopping center in the day time is suspicious, imagine what it looks like when it’s nighttime and raining. I didn’t quite know where I was parked, so it was like that episode of Seinfeld in the parking garage.

As I drove home, Miley Cyrus’ “Time of Our Lives” came on the radio. I shamelessly cranked it up and smiled as I thought back on the day spent with my aging classmates. Sure we all remembered being closer friends than we really were, talked of more fun than we really had, and flaunted more youth than any of us possessed, but that’s what reunions are all about. Painting over the bad, highlighting the good, and taking a trip back to a simpler time, a time of unwritten futures and unlimited possibilities. Maybe we didn’t recall every detail of the past, or say every name correctly, but we’ll never forget that night. That night when we were young again.

Let’s not wait another 20 years. I guarantee we’ll all look like crap by then.