8th grade all over again

I'm so screwed.

This weekend, one of my buddies since middle school is throwing a... I guess "8th grade class of 1998" reunion in conjunction with her own going away party.

This of course, originally made me ecstatic.
I haven't seen most of these people (including her) since graduating and moving on to the hell that was high school.
8th grade was amazing... and the last year I was ever "officially" ghetto. And not even that ghetto considering I was in "Algebra Club" (how fucking retarded... it was a class... not a club... I have no clue why they considered us a club, when not everyone could join the class, especially if you couldn't get a proper grasp on mathematical concepts, but whatever... "Math Club" it will forever be known as) AND orchestra [God, I loved these kids... and it's so sad to know that some of them are even dead now... like that big guy in the middle... all thanks to Iraq]
(although, my school was a prime example of all those stupid movies they make of inner-city kids having mad skills and overcoming adversity by playing the shit out of their instruments--or I guess dancing, as is the case recently-- and positioning themselves in the top spot of the city's middle school orchestra group, even beating out rich kids in their private schools with their private lessons and all that bull I never believed in... and I still scoff at whenever I notice it in movies. I can't believe I took a part in such a thing, unknowingly).

But anyway, I was stoked to see these people all over again because I love seeing how they are doing after so many years (most of the time, it's bad news I hear in regards to these kids... like the girl sitting next to me, last thing I heard about her is that she's a prostitute now... ?!?).

However, I'm no longer excited because I have the most vile thing going on right now.
I have an enormous horn growing out of the middle of my forehead. Ok, it's not "enormous" but it is freaking noticeable.
Such a tragedy, considering I'm supposed to be over this phase of my life...
Come on now, I'm 23!!
Blemishes are for angsty teenagers! Not me! Not anymore, at least.

So...
I'm going to go to this thing...
See the people...
and prove to them that I have, indeed, never changed... just like so many asked me in my year book... not even when it comes to my skin.
Ewww.

(it's a little extra humiliating since back in 8th grade I had a problem sort of similar to this, but it happened on picture day. A friend of mine from back then saw me for the first time since middle school four years ago and the first thing out of his mouth was "Wanna know how I remember you? I remember how you had that band aide across your face for so long because..." then I shut his fucking mouth up because I was a college student... no need to be reminded of that kind of shit as an "adult," really. He was saying this to me while he was sporting a bright blue Cookie Monster band aide under his left eye because a facial piercing of his went awry and fucked up his own face... yet he had the balls to remind me of my humiliating 8th grade episode. Now it's going to happen all over again... I guess I'll change it up and place a Sponge Bob band aide across my forehead this time... just for laughs)

Parrrrrrrrty!