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ten years.

saturday was my 10 year high school reunion. it's hard for me not to think about grosse pointe blank when thinking about it.

Marcella: You know, when you started getting invited to your ten year high school reunion, time is catching up.
Martin Blank: Are you talking about a sense of my own mortality or a fear of death?
Marcella: Well, I never really thought about it quite like that.
Martin Blank: Did you go to yours?
Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everyone had swelled.

a little true, but not quite. first about 40 or 50 people showed. considering that there were around 420 kids in my class, that's not a great percentage. then again, you'd have to have been looking online for the notice about the reunion.

I've probably put on about 50 pounds since high school... for the entire duration of highschool and part of college I didn't hit the weight requirement necessary to give blood... some people packed on the pounds whilst others maintained their weight from junior high - others, need to seek therapy for anorexia. really...

I saw a number of people I expected to see and with whom I was looking to re-connect, but sadly there were a number of people that didn't end up showing that I was looking forward to seeing. it was surprisingly a good time though, granted my sights were set way low...

on par for being at a bar with a dance floor, I drank enough (I was happily surprised with the amount on my tab - a fraction of what I am used to) or more than enough, I danced with old classmates, I re-discovered how much of a tool you look like when you bring glow sticks to the club (I didn't, but this other dude did) and

Martin Blank: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

I like my job. I certainly don't love it. it sound much more glamourous that it really is, but by the nature of it's description, for those with less dynamic work it's sounds exciting. so I had to explain how much I liked and disliked my job. if you told me in college, that I had to get on a plane every week and possibly drink 3 or 4 times a week with the possibility that it would be picked up by someone that isn't you and get paid for it, I would have been sold... you ask me now, I would say that I don't get paid enough and that company politics bite. here's the thing - no matter where I go, that will be there... so do I stick with the devil I know or the devil that will pay me more... I told everyone that I was a professional killer... it seemed funny to me, because I know where it was from, but it probably seemed immature to those that I told. I still had trouble describing my actual job to those that actually cared. 30% is a good bit. but I will have to wait and see.

Martin Blank: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I - and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

whatever.