Normally, I'd avoid these types of events like a dental visit. I've developed a solid reputation for the blow-off. "Sure I'll be there," I say, knowing full well there's no way in hell I'm showing up. In fact, here's what I'm thinking: There's two ways I'm attending: No way and no fucking way.
But for some reason, I'm actually looking forward to it. Making matters more interesting is that I don't exactly have my A-game working these days. Far from it. Put it this way: If life were a hand of Blackjack, Fate would be dressed as a smiling Asian dealer sent by the House to muck up my cards. And the cards would fall thusly: Ace follwed by ("Come on face card, face card, face card.") 5....Shit. How to make this work? Yes, my life lately is a soft 16.
(And BTW, the movie "21"...What a huge disappointment. Kevin Spacey was typically great. I can watch Spacey act a grocery list ...Other than Spacey the movie sucked. I hate to say it, the book was better.)
Could be worse: I could be fat or balding. You can't hide your physique. And I still maintain my razor sharp wit and caustic sensibilities.
Question for you all: Is blogging your High School reunion gay or just pathetic? The former strikes me such.
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