By Fernie Ruano Jr.
Come clean: Whether you play with yourself all day or lay concrete for a living, there’s a part of you that finds it interesting, or mandatory in the case of many women, to occasionally flip through your high school yearbooks to see what some of your former schoolmates looked like 26 years ago before logging into your Facebook account, in place of having dinner, to see what the girl who would show up wearing 11 pounds of mousse in her blown out hair or the dickhead of a baseball player sponsored by a snobby batgirl are up to in 2015.
And by the time you finish flipping through your yearbooks for the 563rd time in the past six months you’re either really excited about the possibility of having the now-45-year-old short, hot blonde message you back on Facebook or in a deep depression because you just saw a family picture confirming the football player you were so hard after in 1989 is now married, has four kids, weighs 289 pounds and collects motorcycles.
But it should not matter that your high school man crush likes Krispy Kreme more than his wife and the rough-around-the-edges female elementary teacher you were trying to reel in over the summer is “married” to a doctor because it's kind of creepy on your part to be looking for a hook up on Facebook, anyway.
But it should not matter that your high school man crush likes Krispy Kreme more than his wife and the rough-around-the-edges female elementary teacher you were trying to reel in over the summer is “married” to a doctor because it's kind of creepy on your part to be looking for a hook up on Facebook, anyway.
Oh, well. Who cares, right? It’s always so interesting, never mind a lot of fun, to take a look and compare faces, hair, body shapes, body parts and names, especially if you’re really into social media and can’t believe a self-proclaimed stoner well into his 20s and now a single father is currently tossing around perhaps the hottest 44-year-old woman in your graduation class and that plastic surgery has uplifted, among other things, a good portion of the women you roamed the halls of Miami Southwest Senior High School with in 1989.
Unofficially, I think six of the 16 women in my shorthand class in 1989, including one I see in downtown Miami on a regular basis, have undergone some type of surgical procedure, all of the cosmetic variety.
But it’s so much fun to snoop around on them, since all of them snoop around on you as well. C’mon let’s be honest: What are high school yearbooks good for anyway, if not catching up or making fun of “old friends”?
Unofficially, I think six of the 16 women in my shorthand class in 1989, including one I see in downtown Miami on a regular basis, have undergone some type of surgical procedure, all of the cosmetic variety.
But it’s so much fun to snoop around on them, since all of them snoop around on you as well. C’mon let’s be honest: What are high school yearbooks good for anyway, if not catching up or making fun of “old friends”?
That’s why it’s hard to look at Patty Alvarez, all of her sparkling white teeth, streaky hair and enhancements on full display for everybody to see and depressed 45-year-old men and former classmates to make really stupid comments on, and not picture her playing Sofia Vergara in a 2035 biopic for The Lifetime Channel.
How about the aforementioned elementary teacher who leads a church, is relatively smart and makes pretend doctors are chasing her on her spare time, although she’s married to one? She wears the look of a tired mom and wife just waiting, waiting, for the perfect opportunity to start fooling around.
There’s the part-time writer with the bag of kids who looks more and more feminine with the passing of time. Oh, and supposedly she used to bake cakes, too. And I know because I bought one several years ago. And fortunately, she didn’t lace it with poison.
There’s the part-time writer with the bag of kids who looks more and more feminine with the passing of time. Oh, and supposedly she used to bake cakes, too. And I know because I bought one several years ago. And fortunately, she didn’t lace it with poison.
Wait, wait.. I am sorry to inform you my loyal readers that I have to step away from my high school yearbook dissection because one of my sports predictions for 2016 has already become a reality …..
SIX DAYS.
It took just SIX days into 2015 for LeBron James, with the full blessing of whatever portion of the Cleveland Cavaliers organization LeKing doesn’t control, of course, to start shuffling around sofas inside an uninspiring house and add some color to the walls by acquiring Iman Shumpert and J.R. SMITH – J. R. SMITH!! – from the New York Knicks, therefore erasing one of my sports predictions for the new year quickly off the dry board and allowing the best basketball player on the planet to not only start getting his feet wet as the new Cavaliers General Manager but set the wheels in motion for the firing of coach David Blatt.
Ironically, General Manager LeBron’s first move comes just days after the Cavaliers announced that on-the-court LeBron would be taking a two-week break to recover from back and knee soreness. But unfortunately for LeCrown haters, especially sophomoric sports radio morning co-host in Miami, who spend most of the their time on the air saying really childish things about LeKing and Cleveland, whenever they’re not laughing really loud into the microphones or pretending to know anything about sports because the only thing hot about their favorite team, the Miami Heat, right now is the blonde girl who sits over Eric Spoelstra’s right shoulder at home games, and Hassan Whiteside, the Cavaliers and J.R. Smith will definitely make the 2015 NBA Playoffs while the Heat will … sneak in as an eighth-seed, behind Brooklyn and Milwaukee.
Think about that for a second: A guy who swears on spilled soda and was playing just two years is going to lead the Bucks to the playoffs. The Heat? We still have another four years of Chris Bosh chugging three-pointers from just about anywhere on the court and Dwyane Wade’s really pudgy face - for now.
But honestly: It’s not the equivalent of your three-day old goldfish dying in front of your face if you’re a professional basketball fan in Miami. You still have the beach, loads of beautiful women walking around as if wearing clothes was illegal, Bernie and Pat Riley. So, check back in 2016 when the Heat will attack free agency with the vigor of a full-court press.
Do you want to know more about this 305-reeking, beach-bumming, Cuban food-obsessed dude? Well, then.. You can connect with Fernie @wordbyfernie (Twitter) and Fernie Ruano (Facebook). Who knows? If he really likes you, he might even give you his email.
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