Actual email that I sent to pretty much every person on the planet yesterday:
Subject: omfg andrew!
Andrew Shue likes my blawwwwwwwwwwwg!
Actual email I received regarding this Saturday's reunion:
From: Person who was apparently our class president, although I don't remember voting
Subject: Reminder! Class of 96!
Reunion this Saturday! 6:30 pm!
Attire: Casual - What you feel comfortable in - no fancy dresses or ties.
But...what if I AM comfortable in fancy dresses? What if my husband looks particularly hot and out-of-my-league in a tie?
So after the reunion on Saturday, we're heading up to New York City for a few days to visit my sister and meet my newish little nephew. I'll also be meeting with ClubMom and AlphaMom and reveal myself to be a big dumb fraud who is really boring and stammer-y in person.
Supposedly, Andrew Shue has been invited to the ClubMom meeting on Monday, but I really, REALLY won't be hurt if he doesn't attend, because I have a truly horrific track record when it comes to meeting even the most minor of celebrities. (A track record that includes 1) shrieking, 2) pointing rudely, 3) crying, and 4) flinging my camera into a garbage can at the sight of Jay Leno in Vegas once and being forced to reach in and dig it out RIGHT when he walked by me, and he didn't even make a quip about it, because I think he thought I was homeless.)
Seriously. I just kind of socially implode, and I don't know why. I am completely unable to hang onto any semblence of Cool. Or... you know, just get a fucking GRIP. But I do know that if you put me in the same room with someone from Melrose Fucking Place, I guarantee that I will either 1) throw up, 2) injure myself, or 3) inadvertently call someone a whore.
I should have Internet access for most of the trip, although I might not have a lot of time for posting.
But I'll make sure to let you know if I accidentally call Andrew Shue a whore. Or if I am suddenly back in the market for a new freelancing job. Or both.