Only the Good Die Young. Thank God.
I have come to the unmistakable conclusion that, no matter how many celery sticks and cucumber slices and eeny, weeny carrots you stuff in your gob, you will never feel completely sated. Stuffed? Yes. Bloated? Mais oui. Raging with heartburn? Si, si, si.

In my widsom, I have also unearthed this little gem: Being Good isn't such a good thing.

Did you ever hear this when you were younger? "Why can't you be more like (insert local brown-noser/keener's name here)? He/she will probably end up becoming a neurosurgeon, only stopping to visit with you when you ask them if they want fries with that."

Or how about: "Why don't you want to become involved with academic clubs like (insert keener here)?" Probably because I was happier being charged for having open liquor in my car, outrunning the cops or ditching class to play cards. I was a Bad Girl.

All I ask is that you don't get me confused with the Bad Slutty Girl. We all knew at least one BSG in high school; the one masquerading as a geisha in the makeup department, big 80's hair, lots of leather and strategically ripped clothing. The one who starred in the lion's share of the Grade Eleven rumours, and probably even started a few about herself to boot. I was definitely not her.

I was the Little Sister to most guys. They loved to protect me from other guys, laughed at my perverse sense of humour and appreciated my intellect.

Basically, no nookie.

I felt loved, but not looooved, if you know what I mean.

Luckily, I found a boy who, strangely enough, wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He even wants to start a family with kids who are half-me.
Veddy, veddy interesting.

However, you don't want to rue the day you threw out that pocket protector either. Don't open the bottom drawer of your dresser and gaze lovingly at your old tube socks (the ones you saved for special occasions), recalling many an Algebra Club Social or Tri-County Chess Tournament.

Keep in mind there might have been someone out there who considered You a BadAss.

Really puts a new spin on how you were viewed in highschool, huh?

Posted at 2:55 p.m.