Eric Wang
Yeah, That'll Happen #27
My Old High School

So I've started my job, and I had training all last week. Each day was basically nine hours of classroom instruction and labs. Let's get one thing straight. I barely went to nine hours of class a week in college. The last time I went to nine hours of class in a day was in high school. And those are the days that I didn't sleep till 10, realize I was one unexcused absence away from getting suspended, and then forge myself an excuse note. Training sucked, but it was also fun to pretend I was in high school again for a week, minus the underage girls.

High school is one of those things where it's easier to enjoy from a distance, whether it be on television or after you're halfway to your Facebook cheapened ten year reunion. A couple weeks ago, my buddy Epps and I went back to good old J.J. Pearce, best known for Jessica Simpson almost graduating from there. Pearce was harder to get in than at some bars I've been to. The lady at the door was concerned that we were there to sarge girls, and wasn't convinced that we were there just to visit. (It was on the agenda.) I had to drop my favorite teacher's name just to get in. This is the pinnacle of my coolness.

Nostalgia fan that I am, I was happy to be back, being in the classrooms that I had slept so well in, finding my old locker, and talking to the teachers that I'm now on a first name basis with. I remember the catfight in the cafeteria on my first day at lunch, and being disappointed when there wasn't another one the second day. I remember the stunts I pulled (most notably standing in the senior panoramic picture while I was a junior, and showing up to post-graduation Casino Night drunk off my ass.) I remember vomiting in the natatorium, and going commando in my marching band uniform on the coldest day of the year. I remember homecoming dances, proms, and how much I love high school drama.

So much in fact, that I can write my own teen drama and sell it to The CW. All I have to do is follow these six simple rules that I gleaned from watching hours upon hours of Dawson's Creek, Jack & Bobby, One Tree Hill, and The O.C. Did I say rules? I meant clich├ęs.
1. Have at least two girls, one blonde and one brunette.
2. Have at least two dudes, bonus points if they're brooding.
3. Be controversial when it comes to sex. Bonus points for a Brokeback or pregnancy arc. Double bonus points when the adults do it too.
4. Don't be above killing off stale characters to introduce new ones.
5. Always have a cool hangout that's never that crowded.
6. Most importantly, have the characters say "I love you" to each other without really knowing what it means.

Is it possible that I love high school too much? I hope not, but I think I'm about three hours of MySpace surfing away from becoming the guy that's a little too old to be watching high school football games, getting drunk from a hip flask, and trying to pick up girls in the parking lot, spouting off Wooderson's lines from Dazed and Confused.

And now, things that have happened to me since I graduated Pearce High in 2001"

To while away the hours at work when I'm not sleeping, eating, or dozing off, I started a blog. Every day, I try to write about something amusing about the office I work in. If you've ever seen the movie Office Space, there's really no need to read my blog.

I'm a little sad Kaitlin Cooper left The O.C. But I guess it's just as well. If she guest starred in one more episode, the TV police would've taken me to TV jail.

Who are the guys that wear their work clothes to the bar? I understand (very well) that the first thing people want to do after 5PM is go to happy hour, but can't you at least take off your tie clip? And tie? And possibly leave your gold pen at the office? Not coincidentally, these are the guys who wrap their beer bottles in paper towels so that they don't get their hands wet from the condensation.

I hate movie credits that are so long that you think you're watching the end of the movie instead of the beginning. Last of the Mohicans, I'm talking to you.

My friend Chris and I found a sandwich place with $1.50 domestics all day every day by our old high school. It was nearly empty at 6PM. How kids at Pearce haven't gotten themselves good fake IDs yet is completely beyond me.

You know what's a good way to not think about sex? Read about STDs on Wikipedia. It's slightly more comfortable than a cold shower, and now I've seen enough pictures of herpes sores and genital warts to make me never want to use a public restroom again.

I've started to read mail order bride catalogs in my spare time. Think of it as Facebook for hot Russian chicks. However, I suspect it's just another side effect of my latent desire to be Tony Soprano.

I'm glad the Olympics are over. Who are these people that are moved to tears while watching figure skating/ice dancing? Is it what audience members are supposed to do at these events? I'm going to need clarification on this one.

In keeping with my high school theme, I went out and bought a Maxim, my magazine of choice back in the day. The fact that the March issue features both Veronica Mars and the hot Florida State girl (who also happens to be a Facebook friend) made the dirty look I got from the elderly cashier totally worth it. However, even at age 22, I still have the habit of placing the magazines face down. Something I picked up in high school to avoid getting scolded by my mom.

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