An attempt to bring a little levity to Joe.My.God’s absolutely morose Thursday open thread, “Regrets Of Our Lost Youth and Not Connecting With Our Abusive Dead Parents” proved quite delicious when Maryland blogger John Sherwood took my bait and chastised me for regretting wearing my FAT PINK SHIRT to work instead of bemoaning my lost youth and not connecting with my abusive, dead parents (they’re both alive and weren’t really as abusive as I thought they were at the time.)
In John's defense, he made fun of my man-titties. Ouch. In a later statement he said I should own them. Sorry. Can't own 'em til I pay for em. Thank you Mastercard! These bazoombas cost me a pretty penny.
Sigh. And yes. I’m quite upset I wore my FAT PINK SHIRT to work today. I look like a lavender sausage, but while the work day is long, life is too short to regret past choices.
I'm feeling soooooooo Carrie Bradshaw right now. Don't you gay bloggers just LOVE that feeling? What witty simile can I dispense while sucking on a Pall Mall and wearing $300 panties?
Ooh! I got one.
Regrets are like dominoes. You tip one and invariably another one falls, then another and another, and before you know it you’re lamenting the night you got trashed on a Grey Goose and 7-Up and groped a stranger in the bathroom at a private "after-hours" party whose host turned out to be the boyfriend of the stranger you manhandled in their coral accented lavatory. So what if you got "black listed"?
I say you're a rock star or Lyndsey Lohan or me!
Be proud of that, don’t regret it. Faster than you can say “Joy Luck Club” the dominoes of regret are tumbled across a gymnasium floor and an elaborate, fire breathing dragon appears ready to gobble up your present and future while you fixate on and lament a few stupid choices in the past. And even if that stupid, fucking choice is a life altering choice, well baby, congrats! For better, or for worse, your life was altered. Move on.
Life is in the present. Live it, don't regret it.
4 comments:
I would have thought you regretted not going to rugby practice last night.
Ah... That's an entry unto itself. But no regrets saying goodbye on a high note.
So you're the one who groped me in the bathroom...
Well, it wasn't so much groping as being help prisoner unless I let you touch my 'special place'.
I felt dirty & cheap. I think I even shed a tear for my stolen innocence.
Unfortunately, I do regret some of the things I've done in other peoples' bathrooms, but only if there was a line at the door when we walked out.
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