1977: I was born. I mean, c'mon. It was warm and cozy in there!
1980: I now had competition for my parents' love. And presents.
1981: In pre-school, I peed my pants from laughing too hard. I also figured out during our St. Patrick's Day party that leprechauns didn't sneak in during recess and make the milk green and leave little green footprints all over the place. I announced that the blue and yellow food coloring made the milk green and that the green footprints were the teacher's hand, since the side of her hand was still green. That got me shushed pretty quickly. Also, I figured out that Santa wasn't real.
1982: My friend Patrick kept sending me inside to ask my parents what certain words meant. Since these words were ones like shit, fuck, and dick, I ended up getting to eat a bar of soap. Patrick got to go home and play with every Transformer that was ever made.
1983: More competition? Dammit!
1988: CLASSIFIED
1989: After a kid yelled "Fuck you!" to me, my awesome retort of "This machine is out of order - fuck yourself and save a quarter" was overheard by my sister, who promptly told my parents. I was grounded for quite a while. I also snuck out of the house on New Year's and was grounded. And on the Fourth of July, and was grounded.
1991: Thanks to my somnambulism, I woke up outside, sitting on the doghouse, in my underwear. Try to go back inside, but my sister had woken up, heard the door, and locked it, then gone back to sleep. That was a hard one to explain. Also, my brother hit me in the eye with a stick, which meant that I had to wear a patch throughout the holidays. And not a cool patch. An ugly gauze one. Also, I learned that porn stars are able to go for long periods of time without orgasm because they're well-practiced and desensitized. I was neither.
1994: No, it was not a good idea to attach mirrors to my shoes so I could see up girls' skirts. It was an even worse idea to fall out my chair while trying to stretch my leg so that I could see one particular girl. Also, I realized that a 15 year old girl is somehow more mature and sophisticated than I was at 17.
1995: College sucks when you don't know anybody and don't drink. Also, you don't live at home anymore where your window faces woods. Shut your blinds!
1999: That smell in your apartment complex in the middle of crazy-hot July is a dead old guy. You've been breathing him in for two weeks!
Actually, now that I think about it, the last 7-8 years have been pretty regret-free. I met Amy, we pseudo-dated, then actually dated, then moved in with each other, then got married. It's been pretty much perfect. So I guess I can handle a shitty few months of work and stress. March, here I come!
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