Yesterday at night, I got home after a mildly interesting grocery shopping experience to find my neighbor, who’s about my age, outside of his home with a bunch of friends. Now, I must tell you I don’t know a lot about him; actually, I wasn’t really sure who, of that group of guys, was him. All I really know about him is that he plays the drums, since we were both teenagers, out on his garage (how very cliché of him, I know), and with time he has gotten slightly better at it; that and his dad is blind. Getting back to my point; I watched for a couple of minutes this group of young strangers, in the dark, while they were drinking beer and listening to Green Day; it wasn’t until I was safe at home when I realized how embarrassing would have been if they had noticed. However, while I was staring at them (like the creep I am) with “When I Come Around” playing as the soundtrack, I started thinking how my neighbor and I could’ve hit it off. It’s not a secret that I have the hots for drummers, after all; almost as much as I cream for guys who appreciate Green Day’s good old days. Maybe, if we had met somehow, he could be now my best friend, some annoying dude I know, a great fuck, a creep in the past, or the greatest love of my life. But he isn’t. I don’t even know his name, and I surely won’t miss him when I’m gone.
Nonetheless, this entry is not about him. It just got me thinking about all the things I am going to miss that I already accepted I can’t take with me (and by “accepted” I mean, threw a big fit that got me nowhere). But this entry isn’t about that either (I’m so sorry); actually it’s about what I’m taking with me. Some people may call them my “most valued possessions”, I prefer to avoid that term, since it would be embarrassing to call this shit valuable; these are just my “must-have’s”:
I need to get the tittles for my blog from somewhere, don’t I? And I admit this emo rich bastard is goddam entertaining and all.
What could I say about this? Of course I have to take my favorite band’s CDs.
Mock me all you like, I love Jack Dawson and I firmly believe next time I watch this move he won’t die.
Mexican comedy about two kidnaps; say what you want about Mexico, but if there’s something we can do is laugh about our situation. I’ll watch this movie everyday so I don’t forget my awesome accent.
This is even more embarrassing than Titanic. The 90’s were cool, ok man!?
I just have the first four seasons, the only ones my adorable and sexy Shannon Doherty appears (did that lesbian joke got your respect for me back? No? Ok).
I can’t even pretend to be cool now, right? … Moving on…
Well, here it is. That intro had a point after all.
This was my first CD ever; ok, not exactly, it was my brother’s, I just took it when he moved out, whatever, no one has to know that; unless I post it on the internet, but why would I do that?