Beauchamp Point Blank

An invitation arrived in the mail this week for my high school reunion. I'm not going to give out the number of years that this one marks, but I will say that I graduated the same year as Martin Blank (left).
I knew it was coming up, and yet I'd quite happily managed to keep the enormity of it from truly entering my consciousness. Until now.
The whole thing is making me feel very, very old.
According to the high school me, people who attend reunions with numbers like mine do so in cheesy Cadillacs, wearing toupees and banker's suits (the women's version involves bad perms and dresses with sequins that reach midway down their thick calves). It does help a little that I'm aware that the high school me was an idiot.
Fortunately, Cadillacs, sequins and suits are likely to be in short supply due to the fact that the reunion is being held at a rather casual location - THE BEAVER LODGE!!!!
(I can't even say that name without smirking and making off-color remarks - I do hope I'm able to move beyond that by the time the big day rolls around.)
To be honest, I actually think it might be pretty fun. There are numerous people I'm looking forward to seeing who I haven't kept in touch with. Plus, the Beaver Lodge (snort!) is on a lake, so a good portion of the festivities will be outside, making it easy to avoid the unrepentantly evil.

So does anyone have any suggestions on how I should fill out the what-have-I-been-up-to questionaire? At the last reunion I said I was a bean sprout farmer.