Out With The Old

For this New Year, I've decided to clean mental house. So here's my version of purge therapy. Writing it down gives closure. Some things were good, some not so much, but all made me "Me" in some way or other. It's time to give thanks and apologies and move on.

To the random people hanging around the ol' memory banks: you need to go away so I can make room for others! Seriously. It's like keeping wire coathangers because you hate to throw something out, but all the useless wire ones are taking up space where your nice new wooden ones could go.

So... NO WIRE HANGERS! (don't go there)

To:
Ed B, the AWOL USMC cook: Thanks for the pierogie pie recipe. I still make it. And I still have the dustpan you swiped from 1st Battalion. Too bad you weren't nearly as useful.

"Bubba" Brian L, current (?) Alabama cop. If I ever drive through your neck of the woods and you pull me over, it better be just to say howdy. You know why. I sincerely hope you've found a woman who can handle your mood swings, or that you've at least gotten therapy. Oh, your step-mom makes the best cracklins EVER. I hold her and her cooking in much high regard to this day.

All the Mikes: The one with the Chevy Malibu, sorry you were too young for me. I didn't need the drama. Loved your car though. The one with the gothic jewelry, my former bar buddy cutie-pie, I really miss talking to you. I hope you found the gal of your wildest internet fantasies, and that she was legal at the time. The one with the red Chevette, when you say you have a place I can crash for the night, underneath a baby crib CONTAINING AN ACTUAL LIVE BABY is not an option. Thanks anyway. I'm over the trauma now.

Brian McN, pool shark extraordinaire: Your talent for checking all the fluids in your car without getting a single speck of grease on your white pants astounded me. It also should have warned me. By the way, I liked the Grand National WAY better than the green convertible. Sorry I called it a mere Buick. As a current mere Buick owner, I mean that sincerely.

Brian "Harley" D: Your photography is quite good, but your editor needs a promotion. Seriously. Not one misspelled word yet... Oh, and thanks for saying I'd be a good-looking woman in my 30s. I'm getting there. I still think you highlight your hair. And I think it's hilarious that your beautiful wife outranks you. PS Bite me. You never said goodbye.

Scott E, pervertus maximus: Had I only known. I used to hate myself for being so stupid, and for not seeing what you were up to, but you're not worth it anymore. You weren't then either but I was too young to realize that. The only good, worthwhile thing you ever did for me was introduce me to Joe, who is still my friend in some alternate universe somewhere. Your phone number should start with 1-900, at three bucks a minute. Now begone! *poof*

Lisa B, my horndog filter: Thanks for taking all the guys who just wanted sex. I never despised you for it, you were doing me a favor. Thanks also for sleeping with my ex-fiance. Saved me a load of trouble there. I owe you one.

Gene McK, liar, thief, babydaddy of the masses: HOW many kids do you have now? Do they come visit you in jail? Have you run out of blonde women with bad attitudes to knock up and cars to steal? Never mind. I don't want to know. Congrats on being the only person I ever really, truly, hated. Lord forgive me... I'll shoot if you ever come near me again. I mean it. I can be out in six months for justifiable homicide. (OK, I need to work on this one...)

Billy C (not Lisa's brother): I was five. FIVE. What were you thinking?!? I'm over it though. I truly hope you're a better person. I feel only pity for you now. When I think about it at all.

Robbie C, hottie classmate: Sorry I made fun of you. It was that kindergarten mentality, picking on those you like. And boy was I ever obsessed.

Mitzi B and Julie T: Where are you girls? Denim jackets and peeing on the railroad tracks and Prom Night... I used to wonder where you went. I'm going to stop wondering until one of you calls me.

Heather G: I give up. As much as I'd love to hear from you, I've realized I've spent too much time in NostalgiaLand. We probably have nothing in common anymore. But if you read this, pleasepleaseplease send me that recipe for Brown Sugar Drops, okay? Garfield stickers optional.

Traci and Kelli S: Stories about you two will be told for generations. Traci, lighten up! Kelli, thanks for not saying anything about Chris. I really, truly enjoyed getting one over on Lisa for once. SO worth it at the time. PS I wish you'd kept Bubba. I totally didn't need that.

Chris ("Christopheles"), tall Marine with too-long bangs: Our night of Lisa surveillance was so much fun. So was the garage and painting the Harley. I didn't have nearly enough time hanging out with you, but in retrospect it was a good thing. Thanks.

Che M: I miss our chats. But you were very bad for me. Please tell Jess I love her to bits and wish I could have gotten to know her better. She's one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, and it came from within. Count your blessings, man.

Timothy A, Trekker Extreme: It was weird. Really weird. I never knew toilet seat pins could be turned into fake teeth. You have so many talents, wasted by your bitterness. But thanks for introducing me to Data and crew, for the cosmic ceiling, and Spot, the Drooling Cat. My hope for you is that you get whatever it is that makes you happy and you don't ruin it by dissecting it too much. Oh, and you have great handwriting for a guy. Sorry for being so naive.

naD and ddoT, met on a road trip: That was the most fun I have ever had at a Waffle House. I still tell stories about that waitress. My sister has the box. Silence=Death, Dinner=WH? You guys were great and I hope I meet more like you. I tip a green-apple Blow-Pop to you both.

The Bass-Ackwards Guys in Scottsdale: Another memorable night involving total strangers, too much coffee, and fluorescent pens. And drums! And Red Rover at 2 AM! We really connected and I hope you're all successful. I kept your art but mice ate the kangaroo. Ah, to be young again, and silly! Thanks guys. Rock on!

Kevin and crew, off a highway in Shreveport: I want my hat back. It was ten bucks and three Dr. Peppers, right? I can swing that. No, wait, forget it... I don't want to go back to Shreveport.

Toni C: I wasted more time resenting you than I should have, when you were never worth thinking about in the first place. Hope you're happy with your own personal Jesus. And I hope you get older and find out the hard way that your looks won't carry you forever. Good luck with that when it happens.

Paul D in Armona/Hanford/Lemoore/???: The last time I saw you, you were drunk and barefoot, asking for a dollar. But that doesn't change the fact that I was wrong to treat you the way I did before then. I hope you're stable, secure, and happy now, and putting your soundboard skills to good use. I loved looking at the clouds with you and riding the "Who's Who of Mental Illness" AKA the Kings County public bus. And the VCR joke... I still use that. Thanks.

Steven, Navy guy from Alabama: You wanted to marry me, move me to a farm in Bama, and have lots of fat babies. You can see why it never happened, right? I hope you found your ideal wife. Thanks for letting me use your car; for a while it was the only place I had to sleep.

Steve W, career USMC radio guy: I admit I was naive and a complete witch to you. But what is it about guys named Steve who think every woman is going to fall all over herself wanting to get married? Really, I couldn't have taken the Charlie's Angels reruns, you ironing my underwear and starching my shirts, and lining up my shoes with precisely thismuch space between them in order of use. I hope you made somebody a good husband. I bet your house is spotless. OCD much? Best to you, and I'm sorry. Especially for the OCD crack... OK, not really. It's true.

Karen P: I last saw you a couple of years ago. Your boyfriend seemed like a wonderful guy, and I wish you all the best because you deserve it. Life gave you a basket of rotten eggs. I want only love and peace for you and the stability you've been searching for your entire life. But I'm sending you out too, because you're part of a past I don't belong to anymore. Thanks for the memories.

Tommy E: Rest in peace, friend. I tried, honestly I did. But you treated your short life so casually that there wasn't much more help I could give you. You were simple and "beyutifull." I hope your son grows up with more opportunities. I was shocked to hear of your death but then I realized it was always coming... I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral. A rose for the memories, and I'm done wishing I'd done more.

I know there's more... but now that I've cleaned out my closet, so to speak, I can stuff the rest back in the corner and drag them out later when I feel like I need the room. If you are any of the above-mentioned people, please remember me on National Forgiveness Day, the 4th Sunday in June. ;-P