are you ready for this?

Da ra ra ... (cue flashing lights and cheerleaders). I bought the Jock Jams! CD in 1995 for this song. And also for Whoomp There It Is!

1995 was 10 years ago.

I just got an e-mail asking: "Class of 2001? Are you Ready?"

It's the first e-mail about my fifth year college reunion. My answer: No, I'm not ready. As the peppy class committee so eagerly wants to remind me, college finished almost five years ago. And where am I? Applying to medical school, alongside current college seniors. That's right. Class of 2006, are you ready for this? This being the jaded old fart who is going to be your lab partner in Anatomy class while having flashbacks to playing "Operation" as a kid. Class of 2006 probably doesn't even know what Operation is. They played Super Gamefighter Grand Theft Power X2 v. 9.6. Holla back if you miss Contra and the old school Legend of Zelda.

No parties for me during the Labor Day weekend. It was very suburban. On Saturday, my parents and I headed to the mechanics to get two of our cars fixed. My parents drove in one car. I followed. My dad, being, well, my dad, refused to give me directions to the place and said "Just follow me." Two problems: 1) My dad is a very aggressive driver and 2) I'm not. He ran through yellows and made u-turns that made my stomach drop. I'm surprised I was able to make it.

The good news is I made some real progress on my applications, so I am getting close to finishing those up. I was invited to interview at a school in the Midwest. My parents want to come. No kidding! When I was applying to college they couldn't care less about accompanying me to visit schools or interview (OK, granted my Harvard interview was like 10 minutes from my house). I love the irony: The entire crux of my application is that I am a well-rounded, mature individual who has had real life experience that is invaluable. And then I come to my interview with my Mommy.

Something very bizarre happened yesterday. I had the desire to cook. Really cook. There is a dinky Indian grocer near where I live, so I went and picked up ingredients to make a chicken curry. I called my mom and asked her what to do. I made the curry -- an event which seriously should have been videotaped, if, you know, America's Stupidest Home Videos still existed or something. Anyway, given that I don't cook, I didn't think things through. I started to fry the onions before realizing I had to use a can opener to open the tomato paste. Oops. And then while I'm throwing ingredients in there, it hit me that I forgot to defrost the chicken. Double oops. But everything sort of worked out. And by sort of, I mean that all the ingredients mixed in and the curry actually started to smell good. I took a little taste ... and BAM. My mouth was on fire. I misunderstood how much chili powder I was supposed to put in. Actually I think I bought chili powder instead of curry powder. I put in a heaping tablespoon, which probably had enough fire in it to melt through the pot. Triple Oops.

Aside from the heat, though, the curry tasted quite good. See, I accomplished something in the last five years. Class of 2001, are you ready for this?