My sister discovered today that our high school gives out a scholarship in the name of our dead uncle, who sucked a tailpipe day after Christmas instead of deal with the prospect of returning to Harvard his Freshman year. You would think one or the other of us would have been made aware of this by our parents, aunts, uncles etc. Or maybe even the grandparents who founded the scholarship in his name. Nah. Kinda like how neither of us knew that he founded the drama club. Which probably would have been mentioned when I won their "best actor" Oscar or whatever. Nah. Her childhood was fucked up in a different way than mine. Still pretty fucked up. But you can't ask anybody because they've been living the lie for so long they don't even remember what the truth was. Apparently my posse is in Rolling Stone this week, I better look it up.