That was mean

Died a little bit today when my 'friend' Sweet Katie put me on the notification list for my twenty year high-school reunion. Not sure what induced her to commit this heinous act of cruelty. Ahh, I kid. Kind of.

Anyway, the official date hasn't been set yet but I figure to be busy my entire summer (these things are usually done during the summer, right?), just in case. I spent several fruitless minutes trying to figure out how to remove myself from the facebook list but couldn't do it. Finally decided that it was probably irreversible, like aging.

I've stayed in touch with the two people from high school with whom I care to stay in touch. The rest of the folks? Meh. I'm sure they're nice but what the hell will we talk about? Drinking 40s of Mickey's and riding around in Ronnie Ledesma's truck?* Some other youthful hijinks? No idea. It'll either be that or talk of babies and similar. I enjoy those types of conversations with friends but from relative strangers it's numbing. From relative strangers that have suddenly become 20 years older than when you last saw them? Too much for my delicate nature to withstand. 

On review there are a handful of people that I'd like to catch up with. I'll contact them directly. Done and done.



* My comment about Ronnie making the 20 year reunion proved prescient: he was killed in prison a couple years ago.