"What am I gonna say? 'I've killed the president of Paraguay with a fork, how've you been?' "

I got the dreaded invitation to the dreaded ten year high school reunion yesterday. "Didn't you already do this?" Adam asked while I flipped through the golf packages and high school tour information.

"Already wrote it, which is slightly different."

It's a combined reunion, owing to Ruidoso's lack of permanent population. The classes of 1994, 1995 and 1996 (mine, which means it's a year early, damnit) will be converging on the Ruidoso Convention center to reminice about the old days.

Yeah, I'm not going. At one point, there was the idea of going and writing a post-reunion snarkfest for the paper, but after looking at the room prices (equivalent to an extra night on the Big Island, yipe) and giving over three seconds of thought, it was a no-brainer.

Which then leaves filling out the "where are they now" form with a little input from the husband.

"Name?"

"Ewe, Betterthan."

"Maiden?"

"Um, no. You kept your maiden name."

"And you just know someone will say, 'oh, Betterthan Ewe, remember her?'"

"And totally not get it." (Adam's heard the stories)

"Occupation?"

"Internationally beloved best-selling author."

"Think they'll suspect?"

"Think they read?"

"Okay, um, favorite high school memory?"

"Dropping out to join the French Foreign Legion."

"Favorite high school song? Ooh, what was a big suicidal anthem when we were in school?"

"Can't think of one."

"Damn."

"Just put down some Public Enemy song."

writing"911's a Joke."

"What do you miss most about high school?"

"The constant torment, humiliation, bullying and ostriscizing. I can't get enough of it in my day-to-day adult life. Also, study hall."

"We actually didn't have study hall."

"That is so sad. Put it down anyway."

Okay, so I am sort of disappointed that we won't be attending. I really, really, really, really want to show off my man, which seems awfully petty.

But hell, isn't being petty the point of high school and high school reunions?