And Yet I Regret Nothing
Did your mother ever tell you that one day you would have a child that acted just like you? That it would be the universe’s way of paying you back for being a little shit all through adolescence and beyond? Mine did. And now that I’m approaching an age where it wouldn’t be completely irresponsible for me to summon up a little parasite of my very own, I’ve started to worry that this may be true.
I was not an angel growing up. Shocking, I know. My mother frequently finds occasion to remind me of that one time I broke into a sports stadium with my best friend and a group of genuine, big belt buckle toting, hat wearing cowboys - just to see what a bull looks like up close and personal without a rope tied around its beef stick. Or that time when I came home at 6 am after attempting to drink my body weight in cheap vodka whilst throwing a spontaneous dance party to the epic musical stylings of the Backstreet Boys on an abandoned road in the middle of nowhere. We won’t even bring up the incident where I disappeared to LA for a week, taking up with a bartender/guitarist and crashing a number of media events that I was not, in fact, “on the list” for.
So if this little anecdote proves to be true, I’m screwed. I just hope that my future spawn is creative enough to at least come up with something I haven’t tried before.
Image courtesy of: Ms Jia
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