Look out world, I’m hittin’ the town.

I don’t mean to scare any of you who may be reading this, but…


I’m going…

Going out…


I know, it’s been forever since I’ve done anything at all besides family stuff or birthday parties for kids. My Friday nights consist of “American Idol” and Taco Bueno (it’s my night for eating the Bad Meal.)

But tonight, I’m playing in a trivia tournament — I can’t just throw myself into a world of wild partying — with some of the most-awesome of the awesome people, Sen. Allen and her spouse, “Liam” Gleason and his spouse, who is the sister of the senator, and the parents of these two sisters.

The fact that these people invited me out is amazing to me, as I’ve been living in the Shire here basically uninterrupted for the past few years. How did they find me? How do they even remember me? How did they know I was even still alive? Didn’t they just assume I was dead, or worse yet, married?

I’ve been informed this trivia competition is quite the  evening. For which I have to prepare… I’m channeling Rosie Perez’s character from “White Men Can’t Jump.”

I’m not sure why anyone asks me to be on trivia teams, since most of my knowledge is confined to 80s and 90s Brit Pop and Hair Metal. I’d like to say 90s music, but I was kinda wild back then, so my memory’s not as sharp about that stuff. I remember I liked a band called Pearlgarden or Alice in Mother Bone or something. Regardless, I’ve fooled someone, and I’ll be happy if I don’t answer “Ann Margaret” to every question like Lowell on “Wings.” (I know it’s a weird reference. Go here)

But since I’ve basically been a spinster weirdo since 2007, and completely and perfectly angelic in every way since 2010, I took them up on the offer to shed this skin of self-imposed exile. After trivia, of course. Barbara tells me this is when they “throw down,” whatever that means. I just hope my references aren’t too dated and my social cues not completely out of the norm. Would it be weird to talk about my cats the entire evening, or perhaps those crazy kids with their texting and giant pants? Are pagers still in style? Pogs?

OK, so I’m not that out of touch. I’m an entertainment editor, so I have to retain a modicum of understanding to what the hell’s going on in the world. But my social calendar does still say 2007. I’ve even 2000-late for that. I’m hoping tonight I don’t show my ass too much, that I don’t get really drunk and convince these people never to ask me out again. I hope I don’t sound desperate.

I’m off to put my hair in curlers and read the encyclopedia! Ciao! (Isn’t that what all the kids are saying?)

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