I can't remember the last time I was so excited

Tonight, I am attending a going-away party for an old friend of mine. He and his family are moving Chicago. One of our group of childhood friends had the amazing idea of having a party in this friend's parents' basement. Brilliant. Who wouldn't want to go back to the scene of the crime for one last blast?

We all grew up together, lived in the same neighborhood, attended the same schools, and played tennis and were on swim team together. These people know things about me that no one else knows. I have spent hours upon hours hanging out with them. We all have adult jobs and some of us have families, and we are ditching all of those this evening. These days, when we get together one or two times a year, we bring the spouses and the kids, and sometimes our parents are there. Not tonight! No spouses. No kids. Just the group of us, a fuckload of beer, and an old-school location. Todd has graciously agreed to take care of the kids tonight and get up with them tomorrow. I am spending the night out. Did I mention how great my husband is, that he will watch the kids while I go have a slumber party with seven grown men? He is awesome beyond belief, trusting and non-jealous. I adore him.

Hopefully, no one will get arrested, steal a mustang convertible and take it for a drunken joyride, go skinny-dipping, drive a grey caddy backwards across a busy highway, pass out in the bushes, have to run back to the house with only half their clothing, swallow a quarter, get to the chopper in the junipers, or put on a vomiting performance from the screen porch balcony with a cheering audience. No way anyone will be in the blue room. Hopefully, we will limit our alcohol intake to beer and liquor, while forgoing Boone's Farm and Mad Dog 20/20.

Yes, there will be cameras, and I am just glad that there weren't cameras back in the day. This will undoubtedly be much tamer. We are mature now. Really. I mean it.