Failure of the Day: “Hey, Vikings!”
That’s what it said in the email salutation. I myself am not a Viking and have never, y’know, identified as a Viking, yet there it is: an email addressing me as such.
It gets worse—postings to the classmates.com message board by my fellow alumnus say things like “bring photo’s” because as we were all taught in school, the main use for an apostrophe is to warn the unsuspecting reader that a word is about to become plural.
It gets worse—although my high school is a mere 35 miles from San Francisco, the reunion is being held in Milpitas. My high school itself isn’t in Milpitas—they’re having the reunion in a city other than the one where my high school is located, and that’s the city they chose. I haven’t been to Milpitas in some 20 years, but unless they moved the giant sewage treatment facility located there, it’s probably still not what you’d call a top-of-the-line destination.
It gets worse—the woman organizing the reunion (let’s call her “Trixie”) is dead set on making it a 2-day event culminating in a Sunday picnic so that everyone might intermingle their children in broad daylight. Trixie is holding the picnic in the park across the street from our high school. The park has the same name as our high school, and we all made our way to that high school every day for 4 years, and we all got stoned in that park every day for 4 years, and yet Trixie felt it necessary to reassure us that she will have balloons to help us find the picnic. She posted a special note to let us know about the balloons.
It gets worse—With this amount of to-do, surely the reunion must be imminent! And yet, it is 8 months away.
It gets worse—I’m still going to go. And with god as my witness, I don’t know why.
That’s what it said in the email salutation. I myself am not a Viking and have never, y’know, identified as a Viking, yet there it is: an email addressing me as such.
It gets worse—postings to the classmates.com message board by my fellow alumnus say things like “bring photo’s” because as we were all taught in school, the main use for an apostrophe is to warn the unsuspecting reader that a word is about to become plural.
It gets worse—although my high school is a mere 35 miles from San Francisco, the reunion is being held in Milpitas. My high school itself isn’t in Milpitas—they’re having the reunion in a city other than the one where my high school is located, and that’s the city they chose. I haven’t been to Milpitas in some 20 years, but unless they moved the giant sewage treatment facility located there, it’s probably still not what you’d call a top-of-the-line destination.
It gets worse—the woman organizing the reunion (let’s call her “Trixie”) is dead set on making it a 2-day event culminating in a Sunday picnic so that everyone might intermingle their children in broad daylight. Trixie is holding the picnic in the park across the street from our high school. The park has the same name as our high school, and we all made our way to that high school every day for 4 years, and we all got stoned in that park every day for 4 years, and yet Trixie felt it necessary to reassure us that she will have balloons to help us find the picnic. She posted a special note to let us know about the balloons.
It gets worse—With this amount of to-do, surely the reunion must be imminent! And yet, it is 8 months away.
It gets worse—I’m still going to go. And with god as my witness, I don’t know why.
posted by Nancy @ 10:32 AM
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