The best subject line for email I got on my birthday was "anti growing old supplement". That was pretty awesome. Even better than the asthma attacks I've been getting.
I found out this week that my 10-year high school reunion is being planned. I'm amused and disgusted. It's an opportunity to get together with a bunch of people I never liked to watch them drink and dance. Knowing me, I'd sneak off to some quiet corner with a book. Yes, even now. And if a few folks joined me, that would be okay. You can join me. Just don't be drunk. We're not in high school anymore. In other words, I'm not going to pretend that you can live your own life and I'm cool with that. Because I'm not cool with that. I'm going to judge. Yes, I'm going to judge. In high school you might have been able to get away with being stupid, but I'm not going to deal with it now. Therefore, I will not pay $30 (or more) to have a meaningless encounter with mostly non-friends in a drinking and dancing capacity. Did I go to school dances back then? Absolutely not. And some things don't change. It just sounds painful and pretentious and boring and shallow.
I would be slightly amused, however, to go to my high school reunion carrying an inhaler and sporting braces, two things that were not part of my high school career but are so [stereo]typical of adolescence that I have to giggle.
For my birthday, I got a new inhaler. I haven't taken it out of the box yet. I hope it matches my red inhaler and my blue inhaler.
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