No need to come after me with your spears and other sharp objects, gentle readers. THIS time, my absence was legit - you see, despite the commercials, sometimes Comcast isn't so COMTASTIC! and your Internet decides to go all "let's see how long she'll actually wait for me to check her email". However, thanks to Julio (who IS by the way, COMTASTIC!), we are now right as rain and I'm sure you've forgiven me similar to the way an abused woman forgives her asshat husband for making him hit her- I've got you bitches trained!
I received a lovely little letter in the mail the other day reminding me that my 10-year law school reunion is rapidly approaching. I'm flat out dying to go to this shindig. In fact, all of the usual suspects (i.e. Kitty and Fat Baby's Mamma) are planning a big "let's pretend we can still drink for 12 hours and then pose a legal theory in front of the whole class" kinda trip. I'm all for it.
However, I am a little unsure of myself. I mean, let's be real - it's be TEN FUCKING YEARS and where am I?
Well, let me recap for those of you just joining us - I'm poor as hell and no lawyer ten years out should be this poor unless you're working for some sanctimonious do-gooder place. I'm raising my 15 year-old nutbag sister (POD) who worships the devil when not plotting to kill my parents. I'm coddling my nutbag mother(Captain Nutty)who frankly makes me want to worship the devil and plot her painful demise. I'm fat. Let me repeat that one, I'M FATTER THAN KIRSTIE ALLEY AT A HO-HO CONVENTION (with apologies to Kirstie considering her recent lesbian affair with Jenny Craig). And, oh yeah, let's not forget this little nugget of joy - I'M STILL SINGLE.
As far as I can tell, there are only 3 single people left in the class of 1996. Me. Kitty. And criminal law buddy, Rob. Kitty and I are waging a full out war to convince Rob to come with us to said reunion - you know, the old "misery in numbers"....or really, "kitty and i have already spent a lot of time drunk and bemoaning our fate and we need new blood in this pissing contest".
To answer my concerns, I believe I've come up with a full-proof plan. Lie. Yep, lie and lie big. Hell, I didn't go to law school for the fucking t-shirt. I learned to lie with the best of them (frankly, law school merely polished my already gifted natural ability but that’s just bragging).
I've decided that I would like to tell everyone at the reunion that I'm pregnant. No one ever blames a pregnant woman for being fat! They consider it down right cute! I'll get myself some nice maternity duds, slap on a little self-tanner for that "pregnancy glow" and bammo, no fat embarrassment. Trust me, I’ve got the gut that screams “get this woman to a doctor before her water breaks all over my weejuns”. This could make drinking a tad touchy but no one really would be surprised that I can't give up the sauce. Let’s be frank, these are the same people that have witnessed my finest moments…..if only I could remember them……anyhooooo.
However, this is Mississippi we're talking about....so the unmarried thing might be an issue. Not to mention, if I show up pregnant with Kitty and without a ring, the lesbo talk will be a deafening roar of condemnation (all have witnessed Kitty's undeniable attraction to me).
And that dear, Robbo, is where you come in. Instant husband. Nothing like a fake marriage to make a reunion fun! I'll supply the rings and you pick the sex of the baby! Hell, I'll even allow for conjugal rights with Kitty! We will tell everyone how ridiculously happy and famously wealthy we are and they will all upchuck their crawfish with jealousy! A more perfect scheme was never hatched. I'll even throw in a "Rob is sooooo HUGE we're worried about him dimpling the baby's head!" comments.
Just think about it, oh Swami Rob...it just might work.
Here's to the class of 1996! May you all want to be me!