Quick, name that pre-Friends‘ fame Lisa Kudrow movie that has become a cult classic and that other chick’s uncontested best role ever.* Except you don’t win anything, because if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that I already named it in the Tags section. Remember, cheaters never prosper. Unless they do.
I knew it would happen this year. Ten plus 2001 is 2011. (I’m putting my math degree to work here.) That’s right, folks. This May I will be doin’ it up Romy and Michele style.
The e-Vite popped into my inbox, and I got permission last night from (a very drowsy) Hubs to take me down to Paradise City to relive the glory days with people I haven’t seen in a decade, and this morning I put the check in the mail. Or maybe it’s in an envelope on my kitchen counter, but I promise it’ll get there before the deadline. Maybe.
And this time, it’s Hubs’ turn to play designated driver in an unfamiliar city while I slur and stammer, stoopid drunk, in the passenger’s seat, telling him where to turn fourteen minutes after we passed it. Payback, you say? No. Not at all. Mostly because Hubs has a sense of direction that rivals Lewis & Clark.
Despite the obvious coolness that just oozes from my blog, I actually peaked in junior high. Depressing? I was named Friendliest in my ninth-grade yearbook, cheesy pose and outdated fashion** to boot, so you be the judge. High school was not the greatest days of my life, and I wasn’t even close to being Prom Queen, but it was super fun, mostly because I didn’t really care about being popular, and I was rad enough at soccer not to sit the bench, and I was a total nerd who got to hang out with only the most authentic, creative, hilarious nerds around. I’m lucky enough to say that the only thing I regret in all these years is not wearing my retainer. Cuz now my teeth are jacked. (Sorry for wasting your money, Dad, but to be fair, I did say…several times, usually in conjunction with kicking and screaming…that I didn’t want braces.)
Even though I told my teenage self that I was gonna get the hellz outta that small town (for the better prospects in New York. Riiiiight.), I actually love, love, love going back. It’s where I spent the majority of my life, growing, learning, sweating…and a solid portion of my most intimate friends still live there, or at least nearby (here’s lookin’ at you, CGroup). And I can’t wait to go back sporting my mom jeans and a kid on each hip. Except Bug will have to walk because he is now literally half my size (can you carry half your size? Didn’t think so). He’s got two legs, he can use ’em. (Technically, Bean has two legs, too, but hers are still pillowy.)
I’m genuinely excited to see everyone, the beautiful campus I pretended to hate (teen angst is so much more exhausting), and most importantly, my high school English teacher, DB, who will forever remain the gold standard of educators, and not because I was obviously his favorite student. Oh, but he’s retired, you say? Not from life, I say. I’m pretty sure he’s still in the phone book. And I have MapQuest. Not. Creepy. At all.
He was, however, the first teacher to ever tell me to consider becoming a writer. Either he saw something in me that didn’t belong in the math department, or knew how bad the pay was when you’re just writing blogs for your mom to read and really wanted to pay forward all the times I poked fun at his chain-smoking. Either way, he is still my favorite teacher, and that says a lot, because I actually really enjoyed school. Here’s to you, Cliff. Don’t be alarmed when I knock on your door. (Except I’m absolutely positive he will be, since I’m also 150% certain he doesn’t remember my name, much less has found my little blog to read and see his careful wordsmith-shaping at work.)
*This sentence is rife with inaccuracies and discernible opinion. Friends premiered three years before this movie was released, and the other chick, Mira Sorvino, also starred in the made-for-TV movie The Second Greatest Story Ever Told, and how do you compete with that?