a fennel wreath and paper pants

My dad called tonight to tell me that the time has come. The information for my ten-year high school reunion arrived in the post today. (C’mon, you didn’t expect me to just come out with the Paul Spericki/Grosse Pointe Blank quote, do you? Been there, done that.) I’m not sure what to do. Granted, I do want to go, I think. But for $74? It’s hard to believe it’d be worth the money. The reunion is at Dave & Busters, so I could just show up and play games and not interact in the fancy-schmancy showroom where the reunion is being held. Checking the list of people that the reunion service couldn’t find…well several folks on that list are people I’d be most interested in seeing again. Guess I need to call Hedyeh about being my other date to the reunion.

Also, while I particularly loathe the “Fight Club” episode of The X-Files, I’d forgotten how cute the Mulder and Scully guess-the-cause-and-culprit-before-the-slideshow interaction was. I should watch the first 10 minutes of the episode again some time.

Oh, the cute…

Mulder: You have any ideas, Scully? Any thoughts?
Scully: What I’m thinking, Mulder, is how familiar this seems. Playing Watson to your Sherlock. You dangling clues out in front of me one by one. It’s a game and…and as usual, you’re…you’re holding something back from me. You’re not telling me something about this case.