Going through life with no regrets is nearly impossible, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t given it the ol’ college try. Every stupid thing I’ve ever done has been a lesson in learning. That being said … I should have several PhD’s by now.
Now that my life is virtually half over, I have to look back on some of the more dim-witted moments of my existence. Feel free to cringe accordingly. I know I did.
The Year: 1999, Des Moines, Iowa
I worked at my first oh-so glamorous TV gig in Des Moines, Iowa for seven years. I started right out of college. Loved everything about the job … save for my boss and the pay. After working there for seven years, I was only making $21,000 (with overtime) … barely enough to eek out an existence living WITH my parents. So I quit and went to work for my cousin in the burgeoning mortgage industry. Two days after I started, I hated it with every fiber of my being. Two weeks after that, I started to develop an ulcer. So I quit without having another job lined up, which was both “unfathomable” and “unconscionable” in my folks’ eyes. Didn’t matter. It all worked out in the end, but the morale of the story is stick with what you know … and find a place that pays you an honest wage.
The Year: 1988, Iowa City, Iowa
For some inexplicable reason I decided to get a perm. My hair was shaggy and bleached a wholly unnatural shade of platinum blond. Why I thought this would help matters, I do not know. Now I’d seen the tragic results that an Ogilvy home perm could cause, so I went to a salon to do the deed. While wrapping my hair, my stylist told me a story about nearly being gang-raped the previous week. Normally, the word “nearly” would have stood out a bit more, but the nape of my neck was burning something fierce. I was trying not to yelp out as my flesh was being chemically seared off. When all was said and done, the top of my head had a teeny little bit of volume. The back of my head, on the other hand, curled up tighter than the coat of a labradoodle. Not only was I called “Pube” for several months thereafter, I had to endure a scorching hot summer with this curly-q mullet on my head. And, no, there are no pictures. I’ve destroyed ALL the evidence.
The Year: 1983, Des Moines, Iowa
I went to a radical Baptist grade school growing up. My parents thought it would be better than any public school. They were right … I was a bright kid and learned a lot. I also spent seven years watching people throw themselves on the ground and speak in tongues and admonish me for watching TV. I was about as secular as they came. When I refused to burn my Olivia Newton-John albums, I was labeled a troublemaker. It was all downhill from there. The superintendent (or maybe it was the principal) at the time was a whack job religious zealot. He would yell and belittle me every chance he got. Once after not moving fast enough during a tornado drill, he publicly mocked me in front of the entire school. Because I respected my elders, I never stood up for myself. I should have punched that cult leader square in the ‘nads. I transferred to a Catholic high school the next year where smoking and drinking was practically encouraged. I willingly drank that Kool-Aid. The superintendent allegedly went on to be arrested for soliciting a prostitute or some other bit of sexual impropriety. I think he said he was acting as a missionary. Missionary position is more like it.
The Year: 2010, somewhere over the Rockies
Once on a plane, I was trapped sitting next to a mother and daughter … both impossibly racist. They spewed venom for nearly two hours talking smack about African-Americans, gays and “those God-damned Jews”. They literally hissed when they spoke. Being the bleeding heart liberal I am, I wanted to say something, but the flight was full and chances are I couldn’t have gotten another seat. I regret not unleashing a can of whoop ass upon them. I was so angry I was actually shaking. Had I gone off, the plane would have been forced to land abruptly and I would have been dragged off by air marshals. But, at least, I would have had the final word, and I would not have had to endure the last excruciating 30 minutes on that plane.