* Twenty years ago, we were a ragtag collection of miscreants, jokers, fools, and, in at least one case, a defiler of owls. We were unaware of what the future held, and eager to march out into the world to claim our piece of it. Today, we are doctors, lawyers, investment bankers, national security operatives, screen writers, professors, CEOs, counter-espionage agents, and, in at least one case, a defiler of owls. When I step off this plane in Vegas, seventeen of us will be reunited at the inaugural 90s era University of Chicago FIJI Reunion. Nothing good can possibly come of this, and it will be glorious.
* Hello, Erin? I can’t stop puking – should I call poison control? What did I eat? Uh, let’s see. A couple of eggs for breakfast . . . no lunch to speak of . . . no dinner yet . . . like one beer, um . . . oh, and a tanker truck worth of espresso. What? Wait, that’s a BAD thing? . . . Well, what do I do to treat it – eat an orange, or drink a vegan milkshake or something? Rest?! Damnit! I drank all that espresso so I wouldn’t *need* to rest!
* Yeah, I’ve got this $100 spa credit, but looking at the menu of services I see that will only get me an exfoliating body polish, a spray tan, or a bikini wax. None of those work for me. Do you maybe have some kind of coffee poison recovery treatment, like with seaweed wraps or bat guano or something?