I forgot day

Evidently, today is "I forgot" day. I don't have anything clever to write about that. I can't recall how anything I forgot was ever that important. I've always been pretty good about anniversaries, not so great about birthdays, which I owe to a general aversion to my own. I remember holidays. I do call my Mom from time to time and even my grandmother --though neither as often as I should.

I haven't forgotten where I come from, whatever the hell that means. The last time I looked, I came from a shabby little town in Virginia that smelled vaguely of nail polish remover. I was glad to get out. The chicks didn't dig me. I'm still holding a grudge about that and not going back for the reunion. I got shit to do anyway.

I haven't forgotten the best things in life aren't free. They always cost something, come with strings or are available for a limited time. People who say otherwise are either hopelessly insane or lying. You can still get plenty of nice things for free, like second-hand Christmas presents, but if you want the best, you have to be prepared to pay --probably continuously.

I haven't forgotten my best moments, but try not to dwell on my worst. You'd drive yourself nuts if you thought about that time you drove home drunk from the party, hit those high school students then stuck their still warm (and possibly still living) bodies in the trunk. Hell, that car is at the bottom of a quarry. There's no reason to think about that --at least, not right away.

I haven't forgotten the names Barack Obama and Bruce Springsteen. I'm just pretending I've forgotten. Neither will give a rat's ass whether I forget or not. It's okay with me since one seems to be forgetting campaign promises at a rapid pace and the other misplaced his map to West Virginia 30 years ago, they can count on me to do absolutely nothing that will help either of them.

I haven't forgotten the best revenge is to live well, but it's still pretty good to just key their car in the parking lot then run away. It's cheaper anyway.