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College Reunion

I finally sucked up my fears, sucked in my stomach (thank you, Spanx) and went to my college reunion. I won’t tell you how many years it was …but let’s just say that some of my “sluttier” sorority sisters can now answer to” Grandma,” “Nana,” and “Yo, Whiskers!”


I was really apprehensive about going back to Penn and seeing my fellow alums. I dreaded having to answer questions about my mother’s death or having people come up and look at me with sad eyes as if to silently say, “We miss her, too.” Nor did I want to deal with people asking the same questions about my father, who actually died while I was in college. – If they wanted to ask me about death, how about the death of the clever, three-camera sitcom, or the death of Scott Baio’s career? I’d be more than happy to weigh in on those tragic endings. You want tragedy, I’ll give you tragedy? Have you seen the reboot of “Murphy Brown?”


But what I really dreaded was a) having to tell people who look like shit that they look fabulous, and b) having to engage in conversations with people who are more boring now than they were way back when. Regarding Item a): I like to believe that most people (with the exception of Donald Trump and the toothless, hillbilly patients on Dr. Pimple Popper, who think that goiters on their arms the size of watermelons that finally “need to be looked at’” are their biggest problems) have some sense of awareness as to their physical appearance.


For example, let’s say you wore a Size 0 cheerleader outfit in college, but now you can barely fit into the stadium at the college, I’m pretty sure you’re aware of the increased tonnage. So when you see me walk into the reunion don’t run up to me and say, “Melissa, you look really good,” and expect me to say, “OMG, you do too!” without it being followed by, “So, how long have you been with the circus?” or, “I didn’t know you designed muumuus; when did you get into the fashion business?”


And as for Item b): “Bored to death” is an actual cause of death. Fun Fact:  boredom is the leading cause of death among evangelical Christian men whose wives own hundreds of Hallmark Channel TV movies on DVDs. (FYI, I’m betting the Lori Loughlin series are worth a small fortune now.)

I have no patience for boring people. Maybe it’s because I grew up around (and have spent my adult life working with) comedians, actors, writers and artists, and have become spoiled by their intelligence, humor and wit. I have purposely chosen my friends based on this criterion. Or, perhaps it’s because I’m a condescending shrew and I find whatever it is you do is way less interesting than whatever it is I do.


My biggest fear is that I’d be at the reunion, get separated from my friends and wind up trapped on a buffet line between an actuary and a claims adjustor, and finally succumb to that nervous breakdown my friends assumed I would have.


I’m sure there are even more boring jobs than actuary or claims adjustor (Quality Control at Q-Tip factory?) but thus far I’ve managed to avoid people who have them. Please note, I am NOT being a show biz snob; not all non-show biz jobs are boring. I am fascinated by inventors, designers and the FBI profilers who find serial killers. And as for serial killers? Fabulous. Stick me on that buffet line between John Wayne Gacy and Ted Bundy and I’ll happily dawdle over that “Make Your Own Pasta Bowl,” pasta bowl for hours and hours.


But I digress; back to the reunion –  I was wrong. Very few of the people at the reunion were TLC Channel freakish-looking, and most of the dullards stayed at their own tables and gleefully bored one another. In fact, I had a great time at the reunion. Not a GREAT, I mean things can always be better. A GREAT time would be if I found I had the Billion Dollar Powerball at the exact same time I was in bed with Brad Pitt.  


Honestly, I’m so glad I went. And despite heading home with laryngitis, and odd skin rash and a clearly exhausted immune system, I had blast. And unlike my friends, I don’t need antibiotics. Can’t wait for the next year’s reunion!

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