Hurricane Special: I’m Tipsy and I Know It! (Regrets)

As we all know, there’s a hurricane coming. Her name is Sandy, she’s heading for New York faster than a gay guy from Biloxi, and she’s purported to be a right cunt. We hate her. She’s evil. She’s like the honeybadger on crack. SE-CUR-A-TAY!

I’ve totes used up the “run home to the ‘rents” card, so I’m sticking it out. Main reason? If this is the perfect storm that kills us all, I’d rather go down in the East Village than Westchester. Sorry. I’m a snob. Birthright Manhattan. I’ve got a gallon of Poland Springs, a whole bunch of food, mad homework to do, a stack of books to read, and a fully charged camera to document all craziness. I’ll be fine.

But let’s just stop for a moment. Let’s pretend that we’re mortal (because the only reason we’d waste so much time on Facebook and Instagram would be is if we were immortal and had eons of time to kill, verdad?). Let’s pretend the hurricane is as strong as the worst-case-scenario says it could be, and that we have 24 hours to live. We have regrets. We have decisions. What would you do? What would you say? I’ll help you. I’ll bare all. The fact that I’ve been in my apartment all day will help with disclosure, as will the fact that I’ve drank a 40 to the face, plus a half carafe of mimosas, without having eaten much of anything. But thus is art. Thus is writing. Learn from my mistakes so you don’t have any. Analyze my regrets so you don’t make them.


1) I regret that I did not tell my ex boyfriend’s family exactly what I thought of them. This is a big one. For all the love I had and, to an extent, still do have, for my ex-boyfriend, I have that much if not more anger and loathing towards his entire immediate family. As far as I’m concerned, they are awful, society-driven, super-cliche, racist individuals. This is something I should have verbalized when I had the chance. Why does it still bother me? Because I had the power to look deep into their meddling, petty, vicious eyes and souls and tell them that they were wrong. And I didn’t. And I regret that.

2) I regret that there are people I have not contacted since I have returned from Mexico. When you leave a country, you leave things behind. When I left for Puebla, I left certain situations that may or may not have been finished. Similarly, when I arrived there, I abandoned still other relationships. In both cases, I could’ve come back from Mexico and rectified unfinished business, but because I am le pussay, I did not. Nor, probably, will I. And I regret that.

3) I regret not buying black genie pants with red and yellow flowers near the Panajachel dock in San Pedro. I really loved them, and even though things are things, and clothes don’t matter, I think I would have looked really cool in them.

4) I regret not following up on my awesome Single Ladies Grand Ditch last weekend. I had a situation in which I told a guy, fuck off, and gave the best fuck-you-heel-turn since Carrie ditched Petrovsky in Paris. Okay, exaggeration, but it was sick. And then 30 minutes later, I picked up the phone, fell for fake romance, and then ultimately got shunned. I regret picking up the phone after stoically telling an asshole to kick it to the curb.

5) I regret not taking mushrooms in Palenque. I could have, and I didn’t. It would have been sick. On the same note, I had a student who was cruising for a using of the miss; should’ve gone for that.

6) I regret, speaking of drugs, that I told a group of friends from high school that I did a shit ton of drugs at college. One dude with a medical mom and a doctor dad felt the need to relay my loony tales to his parental units, who transferred the information to my M&D, thus begetting the showdown to end all showdowns and a relationship that is still, 8 years after the fact, not fully repaired. I regret being a show-off and talking about my life. I regret trusting anyone.

7) I regret not going to Italy and Greece.

In conclusion:

1) When you want to say something, say something. What’s the worst that could happen? How bad could it be?

2) Don’t forsake your dignity for a warm body. There are blankets that will insulate you without causing tears or grief.

3) Put your relationship on the line for your morals; don’t put your morals on the line for your relationship.

4) Take any and all drugs offered, provided they are not going to kill you. Like, if you’re crossing TSP and someone offers you heroin, maybe abstain. But if you’re in Nevada and they whip out peyote, go.

5) Don’t talk about anything awesome. Ever.

6) Go to Italy and Greece.

So what now? Regrets are regrets, and can’t really be changed, and the thing about lists is you realize the majority of your so-called issues are either inherently fixable or super-mundane. To quote someone, whose name I don’t recall, “just because it happened to you doesn’t make it interesting.” We’re all no one.

If you love someone, tell, him or her. If you hate someone, tell them as well. Eat real food. Do what you want. Ignore assholes.

Live. Because it’s all almost over. No Day But Today.

Do you think I should get a tattoo?


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