I was supposed to marry Johnny Depp

Here is an exercise for all my classmates who survived Onalaska Middle School:

Do you remember 8th grade health class? Remember Project Me? Oh my god, I still have mine and decided to read it the other day. My life was supposed to be fantastic.
Here is one line...(remember we had to start with conception and end with our death and obits)

The egg was released, traveling down the fallopian tubes. It met a sperm. Ta-da! I was a zygote!

Yep, that's what I wrote, in my nice loopy cursive. This was back before we had word processors. Some people reading this probably don't know what that is. Sigh.

Other highlights...

In high school I dated the football captain and prom king (well, duh). I cut out a picture from a magazine of Matthew Broderick (aka Ferris Bueller). We were supposed to get married after high school but I had to go and study veterinary medicine at UCLA. Glad to hear that his marriage to Sarah Jessica Parker turned out okay.

I studied abroad in France and met my husband to be. His name was Rene. (I thought that sounded French but still manly.) I cut out a picture of Johnny Depp. We married and lived in San Diego and France. We celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary in France, but on the plane ride back to America we died in a fiery crash. How Dramatic!

I told my husband this, that I was supposed to marry Johnny Depp and live in France. He actually does, you know, but with some skinny French woman instead of me.

Matt says, "I could have married the Oscar Mayer heiress."

"What?"

"I dated a girl who's father owned the company."

"The hot dog?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you? Was she ugly or something?"

He shrugged as if to say, oh she was kind of lame.

"An heiress?"

"Yeah, my friends said I would be able drive around the weiner mobile anytime I wanted."

"You messed that one up."

"Yep, I was stupid."