When George Lucas was going around scouting locations for “Return of the Jedi”, he realized costs were skyrocketing because those tasked with collecting money for filming permission were doubling their asking price, as they no doubt realized that Twentieth Century Fox could afford the cash for the third Star Wars film. So Lucas renamed the movie (er, sort of) “Blue Harvest”, and got the fast one on those collecting the cash.
So, anyway, last night “Family Guy” aired a double-length episode titled “Blue Harvest.” Hah-hah. It’s a spoof of “Star Wars”, and very funny. Personally, I don’t care for “Family Guy.” If I’ve sat through an episode before, it’s only because my remote’s batteries died and I was too lazy to get out of my seat and swap out the DVD player’s remote’s batteries.
Burglary // A camera, tools and an all-terrain vehicle were stolen Friday from a house in the 14200 block of Rob Castle Road by someone who entered through a window.
Considering that Robcaste is right up and over from the 14500 block of Jarrettsville Pike (see page one of the blotter, above link), and similar shit was stolen, I’m assuming that was a butchering of Robcaste. Of course, there could, I suppose, be a Rob Castle Road somewhere …
I liked high school okay, I guess. I could’ve applied myself a bit more, done something more, participated more, but really, those are lessons that I think sort of apply to my entire life. Instead, I spent a lot of time half-listening to teachers (almost wrote ‘professors’) while doodling in my texts and notebooks.
I don’t care to reflect where I fit in among the heirarchy of geeks, dweebs, jocks, band kids, rockers, druggies, preppies and assorted other sub-classes of status that define high school. I like to think I got along okay with the fringes of every group, but I could just be completely wrong and everyone scrolling through my yearbook who comes across my photo thinks “Who the fuck is this guy?” (Okay, that’s at least not entirely true — Hot Blonde Bartender remembered me eight years after we last set eyes on each other).
So flash forward ten years. Of the “circle of friends” that I was close with, I’m in contact with only one, and him, only through the occasional MySpace bulletin. There is a rather large online presence of my high school graduating class on MySpace. I know, right?
So, it’s been ten years, and we all know what that means: Reunion time. I’m not very good about checking the school’s “group board” on MySpace, which means that it wasn’t until a classmate messaged me the other day, I didn’t even realize the reunion had been scheduled (which, apparently, it was: last January): “hey are you going to the reunion? you should check out the atholton page here on myspace and read the message boards. Doug Stoub posted some crazy shiznits up there.”
Indeed he did. MC Doug E D, as we called him in high school, and as he is apparently earning a comfortable living in Philly as some sort of DJ, took offense that our reunion be held in Baltimore City as opposed to Columbia. It’s at some place called the Red Maple Lounge, which from the name alone, sounds like a place just fake enough to serve for all of us from Columbia (the fake city). Personally, I could care less where the reunion is held — our prom, as I recall, was in the warehouse overlooking Camden Yards — I don’t plan on going.
I mean, for one thing, I’m working that night (it’ll be my first night back after vacation). For another thing, if there’s anyone from my high school class who actually wants to see me, I think I’m fairly easy to track down (‘specially if they’ve got MySpace), and always open to a drink or two at Dizzy Issie’s (or, God forbid, the far closer Padonia Station).
Meanwhile, it’s great to know that ten years after walking across the stage at Merriweather Post Pavillion, a bunch of us really are still high schoolers at heart. (And, as fate would have it, I’m having just as much sex now as I was back then*).
