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Oh five celebrated five years of post-graduate life a week ago today.

This included but was not limited to the following:

1. Unmatched hilarity thanks to the presence of two of the most hysterical people I know and love more than anything on planet earth. I was just tempted to list off a slew of inside jokes, but god those are lame in a public forum.

THREE THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN RIGHT NOW! I’m having a great time at your reunion! President Falk, we ask but TWO things. TRY TO STEAL MY ICE! Christmas card worthy. Gently. Gently.

COULD. NOT. RESIST.

Moving on…

2. Rain storms. And mud. And dancing our faces off despite said conditions.

3. There were bros icing bros. And hos icing hos. And hos icing bros. And bros icing hos. And oh my god if you don’t know what I am talking about google that shit and then weep at the stupidity and the brilliance of the Smirnoff Ice marketing department.

I don’t think I’ve consumed a malted beverage since I was sixteen.

And yet grown ass men were down on one knee chugging that shit all weekend.

Magical.

4. The realization that not much has changed.

5. Except maybe how quickly we “bounce back.” I have not been so exhausted since childbirth, CHILDBIRTH, y’all. My body ached. My head ached. I functioned in a delusional haze for most of the weekend – and despite an absence of alcohol in my system, I experienced a post-reunion hang over like you wouldn’t believe. College is hard five years later.

HARD.

6. Also, I learned that apparently smart people go to Law School when they have no idea what the hell else to do. I mean, Juris Doctor does have a nice ring to it. Doctor of the Law. Catchy. I now understand why everyone and there mother was either in, had just completed, or was headed to Law School.

7. There were ghosts of boyfriends-past, and old roomies, and reunion crashers, and wow, the cliques-really-do-hold-fast, and the people who were THAT guy in college and were THAT guy at the reunion, and interracial snuggles, and dear dear friends, and life-crushes, and so on and so on.

8. There were demands to see the baby, by intoxicated individuals, at eleven o’clock at night, under rain soaked tents blasting Get Low. Because obviously I keep my child strapped to my person at all hours of the day, especially when it involves lots of drunk people and noise and discussions of bodily fluids dripping down genitalia.

BTDubs – chances that that song will be played at our 50th reunion – sweat dropping down our 72-year old balls? Anyone?

All exhausting things must come to an end (THANK THE SWEET BABY CHEEZ-ITS), and James and I were met with Addison urinating all over her bed at midnight on Sunday, as Ursa vomited a sea of chicken all over our bed room floor.

That’s why we don’t feed the dogs table scraps, JAMES.

And that’s why we will probably be the only people with babies at our ten year.

We’re the best form of birth control.