Vomit, Then Pummel Them to Death

So, I have this giant box of notes from high school. You know, the ones you passed off between 2nd and 3rd period? I kept them all, and they are pretty awesome. I feel sorry for the kids today with their texting. Where will those texts be when they are old like me? Nowhere, is where. Plus, who would want them?

I went through my notes a few years ago and culled some (mostly the ones I wrote but never delivered--doing away with the evidence!), but I still have the cream of the crop. and I dug a few of them out of the basement the other day.

Many of these are love letters from my early romances. Here, for instance, is an excerpt from a note written to me by my first real boyfriend, Punk Rock Matt.*

"I really really like that new Jawbox video. The first time I saw it I didn't really care either way. But Now I can't get it out of my head.

Holy Cow I'm in art now and Chris Just gave me that Blindside record he ordered for me. I can't wait to give it a spin. I just walked to my locker and one of those f*ing** rent a cops told me not to wear my Melvins shirt tomorrow because of what it said across the back. So then I told her that I didn't know about her but I don't wear the same shirt 2 days in a row. She told me she didn't need the sarcasm or she would write me up. Stupid f*ing b*tch!"

Aww.

Here's one from Dave, my next boyfriend:

"I'm in French. The entire class should be destroyed. Not really, some can live. The problem is here---> [Dave includes a diagram of the classroom desks, with a circle around the problem area]. An atomic bomb should be dropped on these fools.

I wonder what I would do if someone asked to sign my yearbook. I'd probably vomit, then pummel them to death."

Ah, romance.



*He still goes by this moniker, and is as punk rock as ever, by the way.
**Why am I all coy about the swearing all of a sudden? I have no idea.