Memory Lane

I don't know why I was avoiding my old Dirtywater posts from 2002. There are 688 of them, and they are all amazing.

Take this heartfelt missive from February 5, 2002. I shall quote in entirety: "I put ketchup in my eggs."

And from later that same day: "The shirt I wore today snaps down the front. When I was going to shower I ripped it open and roared at the mirror like a wrestler, or a very violent, unattractive stripper. It was great fun."

I'll never forget what happened on the March day when I wrote: "scrwed? hah hah hah" ... no, that's a lie, I did forget. Perhaps that was when I discovered alcohol.

Sometimes I was cryptically philosophical: "A lot of things seem less real when you're the only one that knows them."

My only question is: why could I not have invented Twitter? 

Sometimes I was slightly more verbose, such as on the occasions that it would appear that I was attempting to describe what I had done that day, but I was still so cryptic that ten years later, I don't even know what the hell happened: "watched the dog bump up and down the stairs, and put leaves in a bag, and took things out of boxes, put the dog on the bed, ate a sandwich, made a webpage, took the dog off the bed, read some books, mused." What.. what dog, what stairs??? What leaves, what sandwich? What does it all mean?!

Hmmm: "He wants me to post something right now because he thinks it's going to be funny, and now that he's im posed the no bavkspace rule it might be slightly more abmusing, but fo rthe most part i have nothing to say and therefofre andm nt going to say it. an dammit@ it's tuining everything, because ihe's lso ticklin g me!@ but and violating me!!!!!! :O" 

Those two drunk kids got married, folks, and although they are now thirty, they still act just like that. But only when they're alone.