Hangin' Tough

My 15-year high school reunion is coming up this summer, and the reunion committee sent us a bunch of forms to fill out. I know the committee means well, and I have to hand it to them for being so organized this time (our last reunion was in a bar ... where an actual fistfight broke out). But. We're supposed to fill out an RSVP form with some basic info, write a 500-word biography about ourselves, and then answer four pages (FOUR PAGES) of questions. Examples of actual questions I am supposed to answer:

Was there ever a time you had to confront the possibility of death?

Cosmetic surgery: Ever considered it? Y/N

I'm wondering if I'm allowed to be sarcastic on this form. For example, I'm wondering if I can answer "Do you have an interesting/dangerous/dirty job? Please summarize." with "Yes. My child once called me to her room because she had somehow managed to get poop all over her hand."

Then for "Do you have a funny story about work?" I could answer "See above."

Anyway, this form has been sitting on the desk in our kitchen for at least a month or so. The time I could have spent actually filling it out has been spent e-mailing the few people I'm actually in touch with from high school to complain about how much I don't want to fill out this form. And now I'm blogging about it instead of filling it out.

This afternoon I decided, once and for all, that I was going to fill out this form. I got about a third of the way through page one (which consisted of tough questions like, "Name", "Address" and "Number of guests attending"), when I got to the part about which songs from high school I'd like played at the reunion. I got to reminiscing, suddenly everything turned blurry, and when the smoke cleared, I realized I'd spent most of WCK's naptime watching New Kids on the Block videos on YouTube.

That's right. And now it's Big Confession Time: A couple of months ago, there was a delightful rumor going around that the New Kids were going to be reuniting. I was secretly REALLY, REALLY, REALLY excited. Actually, it wasn't all that secret, because I told Jay that if the New Kids came to Kansas City, I WAS GOING, NO MATTER WHAT. For about 17 years I've had to pretend that I'd finally decided that the New Kids were really lame, and you know what? It's all been a lie!! I still love them. Donnie's ripped jeans? His Carol Brady hairdo? The way they all chased each other through a cemetery and then jumped into the convertible in the "Right Stuff" video? Awesome. Those videos are still as awesome as they were when I saw the New Kids in concert in 1990. I never got to marry Donnie Wahlberg, but, you know ... maybe we can work something out.

You can't make fun of me. I have cancer.