May 20, 2009
Is it weird that I am the creator slash administrator of my high school’s Facebook reunion page, and I have quite suddenly realized I am totally not even remotely interested in attending? The reunion, that is? Like, at all? Not even a little? (Okay, maybe a little.)
I’m thinking… no, not so weird, actually.
See, the mystery? Gone. Wiped. No more. Or, solved, if you will. Facebook did it’s wacky Facebook thang, you know, where the group goes from 1 to 15 to 50 to 300, and now I’m like, eh. Curiosity satisfied. I won’t go so far as to say that I was absolutely jazzed about attending the reunion until I realized there wasn’t anyone I really wanted to actually, you know, SEE. Like, in person? Because, RUDE? So I’ll just chalk it up to realizing that it was a long frakking way to go to see a bunch of people I really didn’t NEED to see. You know, in person? Because they are totally on Facebook! You see? Right at my fingertips! Am I right?! Am I?! Up-to-the-minute updates! Photos! Favorite things! Photos! Hobbies! Lots of photos! Family and friends! And PHOTOS! So, see? Where’s the incentive? You know I’m right.
Because, honestly. You can break down the reasons for attending your high school reunion into three main categories:
Reason number one, to reconnect with old friends. But if you’ve never, I don’t know, DISCONNECTED with old friends, then that reason falls by the wayside. I’m only saying. So long reason number one. It’s been fun.
And reason number two, to settle old scores. What? No way, you say? That is so not true? It’s all about reconnecting, you say? Whatever. Your mad flurry of dieting, working out, shopping for clothes, scheduling hair appointments and facials, and coaching your significant other in how to be the most awesomest significant other EVER tells a different story. Oh! Not that there is anything WRONG with that story! For real! I don’t judge! Honestly! I’m all about settling old scores! I’m still biding my time before laying the smackdown on TGIM for that time when he snuck into the bathroom while I was showering and poured an entire pitcher of ice water on me from the other side of the shower curtain! And that was YEARS ago! So whatever! It’s a different story, that’s all I’m saying. It’s just not MY story.
Which brings me to reason number three: curiosity. Sheer, unadulterated, unabashed curiosity. Like, Hey! Whatever happened to Cheerleader? So-and-So? What’s Her Face? The Ugly One? And then it’ll be like , “Oh, why, hello The Ugly One, you’re looking so makey outy tonight.” (Sorry. My kiddos are maybe a bit addicted to Teen Girl Squad. Perhaps!) All I’m saying is reason number three is all about finding out if the person voted most likely to succeed actually DID (which, ironically, is rarely the case), if the Mean Girls and Bullies got there’s, and if the jerk who shattered your heart into tiny pieces in the tenth grade actually went on to get married and divorced three times and now works in a dead-end job at a Jiffy Lube in Tucson. And lives with his parents! And drives a stupid, ugly car! That’s RIGHT!
What? I didn’t say there couldn’t be CROSSOVER. Gosh.
My point? Well, I totally have one! See, I didn’t think all this through when I set up the reunion site. That’s all I’m saying. Facebook, with the photos and the favorites and the updates and the photos? It’s, like, a nostalgia voyeurs’ dream! But not in an icky, scary way! Because, freaky?! And now? The reunion and I? Well, we just aren’t seeing eye-to-eye. Because… curiosity satisfied, you know? And if that’s wrong, then baby, I don’t want to… well, you know the rest.
Wait. There’s a “but” coming.
BUT… if I am in any way wrong, and this is a horribly offensive, way rude commentary about a joyous, time-honored tradition that I should be embracing rather than eschewing, than I am totally joking. It’s not that I don’t totally WANT to go– because I absolutely DO– it’s just… I have to work that week. I do! Just a working fool, that’s me! I’m not even joking at all! So, yup. Working.
May 7, 2009
While riding in the backseat of the car with your momma and daddy and sister, on the way to the BIG bookstore at the mall– you know, the one with the escalator and the cool cushy seats that are Just Right and NOT just those uncomfortable wooden rocking ones that make your bum numb?– to find a book for the school Read-In that you will pay for with your very own money, by setting aside the hot fudge sundae you have been messily enjoying to respond to some loud-mouth on the radio who is yelling about dumb political issues– “…and they’re only concerned about genitalia! It’s all about sex and race! SEX AND RACE!”– which, by the way, is SO not the driving tunes you requested, and piping up from the back seat in your best disgusted, nine-year-old woman-of-the-world, drama queen voice, “DAD! Can you turn that OFF?! We’re trying to EAT here!”