Last night was my 30 25 20-year high school reunion. It was phenomenal to see everyone kibitzing and carousing with wild abandon. So many smiling faces I haven’t seen in over a decade (or two). When I wasn’t busy playing hostess with the mostest, it gave me a bit of time to do some observing. Here’s what I’ve gleaned about my reunion in no particular order:

*If you show up an hour before the actual reunion is supposed to start, it’s not because you’re gonna leave early. Nope, it’s the exact opposite. You will inevitably be the last one out the door. You know, the person that I’m scooping up off the ground because the bar has demanded I assist them in helping you exit stage left. Bless.

*Women who have had work done look amazing. Fresh-faced and sparkly. Men who have had work done look like burn victims.

*I don’t care what your religious denomination or political affiliation is. I didn’t care when we graduated and I don’t care now. Leave that sh*t at the door. There’s a reason why I blocked you from Facebook, dear.

*Very, very few people can pull of wearing horizontal stripes. #justsayin’

*Certain people were really flirty. Like, handsy-flirty. It was kinda refreshing. I haven’t been groped that much in at least two days. Remember—you can’t spell class without ass.

*I’d like to think I’m fairly photogenic. Several people clicked wildly unflattering photos of me last night. Like the worst I’ve seen in my entire life. If I see that sh*t end up somewhere on social media, I will hunt you down like caribou.

*The women in my class are all aging remarkably well. Like, jaw-droppingly stunning. There wasn’t one girl I didn’t recognize last night when they walked in the door. Boys take note. And please start using moisturizer. On your face. Everyday. Twice a day.

*I can’t be sure, but two songs appear to be our unofficial-official anthem. Both tunes about stopped the crowd in their tracks last night. “Thriller” by Michael Jackson (natch!) and, oddly, “Obsession” by Animotion. People were either dancing, singing along at the top of their lungs or both.

*I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol last night. Today I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Someone asked how long it took to plan our reunion and I said, “Nine months.” No wonder I’m exhausted the day after—I just gave birth to a reunion.

*Certain people in our class do not age. At all. I’m not sure if they’re sleeping in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber or bathing in formaldehyde, but it’s appalling how good they look. I should have carried a mirror around with me to see if they were vampires.

*My friend Becky makes the world’s best gourmet cakes. Period. Last night she whipped up her famous mini-cupcakes for our class to enjoy. I may have eaten 30 25 20 of them to celebrate how amazing they were. You need a cake for any occasion? Becky’s Cake Confectionery has your back.

*No one cares how much money you make, my friend. Except for maybe your accountant. Or tax fraud lawyer. And they both agree—you’re an asshole.

*What’s the sign of a good party? When 20+ people who didn’t buy tickets show up at the door at the 12^th hour. Fortunately, I had extra drink tickets handy because I anticipated such an onslaught.

All in all, it was an awe-inspiringly good time. Once again, the reunion committee pulled off an amazing party. I would high-five everyone right now if I could, but I’m so tired I feel like I have polio. I’m going back to bed. For five years. At a minimum.