Holly Reinhorn is a girl I went to grade school with who many of us had a crush on. Her dad was a dentist and she was one of the “rich kids” from the hill. She was also a grade-A beeyotch and I have confirmation that she didn’t get any better in high school. (I went to a different gearhead high school instead of my neighborhood high school so I heard this recently from one of her classmates.) It’s 27 years after I last saw her and I really couldn’t care what she’s up to. Probably shuttling her kids to Multnomah Arayan Athletic Club. (The MAC Club is a ritzy exclusive-membership “athletic” club in town.)

Well, my buddy Bill is now an internet bazillionaire and we both grew up as “not-so-rich” kids in the neighborhood. He still wants to find some of the rich kids and rub their noses in his success. And one of the people he wants to do this to is our old classmate Holly Reinhorn. He just told me that there’s a “Holiday Reinhorn” in town who is an author, doing a reading at Powell’s books. I read the blurb in The Oregonian on “Holiday” and it’s the life story of “Holly.” On the Powell’s Books web site it says she’s a promising young writer. She’s my age and 41 isn’t exactly young.

OK, so that’s the only real interesting thing from today. I tried to hit the gym today but on the way home from work I found some uneven concrete and fell on my ass. I also sprained my ankle. I hobbled homeward until I was ten or so blocks away and that’s when I saw Bill and he gave me a ride home and told me about Holiday. While I still don’t care what happened to her, I’m not going to read her book (I’m reading Harry Potter as soon as I get my hands on it) and I hope I never hear her augmented moniker again because it’s sticking an unwanted Madonna tune in my head.

I guess this is the punishment I get for calling kids I grew up with by their old grade school names, like Billy and Tommy and Nicky. (They’re Bill and Tom and Nick now, I guess.)