Okay. Holy crap, everyone. My ten year high school reunion was this last weekend. You may be thinking, "Elise, how can it possibly be your ten year reunion? You don't look a day over 21!" Well..heh hehh...thanks, but it's true. For the record, I didn't attend the reunion dinner-- not because I was afraid but because DJ was boiling his elk head. But that's a story for another post. When I think of high school I think of three awkward years of bad clothes, bad hair, and times that I really am not dying to remember. You may be thinking to yourself, "Hmm...not a lot changes..." Trust me-- it used to be a lot worse. I think I have an above-average number of embarrassing memories. My mind chooses the most inopportune times to remind me of these moments. Like I'll be sitting in the doctor's office, already feeling insecure, and then I'll remember the time when we were at a taping of the Price is Right and they called my name so I "went on down!"... but it wasn't really my name they had called. To be fair to myself-- they called MY name, just not my last name. And the girl sitting next to me, who was a stranger, and who I will curse until the day I die, was telling me, "It's you! Go! Go!" Thankfully I didn't actually make it on stage. (I have to say, though, it would have been cool to meet Bob Barker, just not under those circumstances.)
I have so many memories like that. My family and few remaining friends love to remind me about them, because for some reason they find my tragedy hilarious. I recently participated in one of those e-mail forwards where your friends do a survey and tell you about yourself. Ugh. One of the questions on the survey was, "What is the funniest memory you have with me?" or something like that. EVERY reply came back with a story about how I humiliated myself in one way or another. Like, "Hey, remember the time at Lake Powell when you ran into the glass door on the houseboat because you thought it was open?" (I was, like, eleven! Come on!) or "Hey, remember that time we were tracting and you slipped on the ice and your skirt came up over your head?" Yes, thank you, "friends"-- I remember all too well. I can't remember my own address most of the time, but my mind can recall these moments with stunning clarity.
So thank goodness DJ had an elk head to boil, right? I cannot even imagine the horrifying memories that would be drudged up by spending two hours in the company of people who knew me at the peak of my awkwardness. So, let's all hear it for DJ's barbaric elk head boiling ritual! Wherever that elk is--scampering around in the meadows of Elk Heaven, or whatever--I hope he knows that I appreciate his sacrifice.