So the other night, I went out with one of my oldest friends. Well, not in the sense that he’s old, I’ve just known him the longest. We went to see Dodgeball and then snuck into White Chicks. (Yup, I’m a grown fucking woman sneaking into dumbass movies. There was some agreement that both movies sucked more often than not, but Kevin favored the overplayed racist and sexist cliches to the overplayed underdog, geek cliches.)

Anyway, after the flicks we got to talking about a kid we knew in elementary school and junior high (well Kevin knew in junior high and I knew in both). I can’t remember if he went to any part of high school with us, but I know he graduated from a private school.

We had both been collegial nerds with him; we were all on the math team together in junior high. (Yeah, I know, I’m a fucking tool. Later I discovered pot, as well as ultimately boys and sex, and since I have forgotten almost all math. It is so sad to stare at a differential equation and realize that there was a time when it would have made sense. Kind of like surviving a brain injury, but without the cool brain injury story.)

Both Kevin and I have distant guilt feelings for basically selling him out intellectually, denying association with him and joining in with some good, old-fashioned geek abuse with the other kids.

So, I did what any latter-day former math dork would do, I Googled him. Here is the man, the legend, Warren Madden.

In third grade we were like neck and fucking neck in the high stakes competition of top of the class. Now, he’s a hurricane chaser, army reservist and television personality. Kevin’s a math professor. I’m unemployed.

Did I mention I smoked more pot than those guys?