Does anyone know how long it takes for two munis to forge an interlocal agreement on the ambulance service they want to use? I do: Since freakin' FEBRUARY, three hours of which was spent TONIGHT on stuff they should've had figured out OVER THE WEEKEND. So now, I need to stay up to write the damn story for Saturday, because I sure as heck didn't make deadline.

I did, however, see two former high school classmates, one on whom I had a gi-normous crush freshman year, and the other a huge bitch who graduated a year ahead of us. He's still hotter than hell and a lot smarter than I remember (maybe eliminating all the dope-smoking had something to do with it), but he's also married. Boo. Plus, he's in muni politics at 34 -- not my bag. The bitch, on the other hand, hasn't changed all that much, except for maybe more crow's feet. She was all adorned with a Rolex and a big ol' rock (I grew up in an affluent town, so this surprises me not), but what killed me is she's still ratting her hair all big, yanking it back and putting in one of those hairy pony things to make it look like she has more hair. (Ladies, y'all know what I'm talking about, right?) I mean, literally ratting her bangs all big and shit. Not like the '80s fan, but like middle-aged Texas mom big. I was just like, whatever. You haven't changed one bit. But at least the hairy pony thing matched the overly blonded straw she calls hair, because I'd have really slagged on her if it hadn't.