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Thursday, May. 09, 2002
#2 today.

When you get so old that you have to resort to laser surgery to correct your addled (and oft-times, besotted) vision, you know it's time for a bit of reflection. A little self-history. Maybe a bit of remorse, even. So without further ado, I give you the Outfoxed list of potential Shoulda's. Not to be confused with Woulda's or Coulda's. Or even Or even Goulda's. Wait a second, that's a cheese, but I really like it. Especially with a beer. Anyway.

1971: Got into first fight, albeit brief and decidedly one sided, on second day of junior high school. Big eighth grader whipped my ass for having short hair (who knew?) and carrying books. I'm sure he had made ample plans for all this by being pummeled himself as a sixth grader, but still.
Shoulda: At least fought back enough to discourage him from doing it again the very next day.

1974: Drank first beer, a Carling Black Label, on my very own street with my buddy Chris. Yes it was dark outside at the time, and no, the beer wasn't cold. Which is peculiar since I seem to recall it was winter in Buffalo. But I was 15. What did I know?
Shoulda: Insisted on St. Paulie Girl beer at the very least. Definitely cold. Firsts being what they are.

1975: Moved to Virginia.
Shoulda: Moved to Virginia sooner. What, you think everyone was destined to stay in Buffalo?

1976: First real girlfriend - Tammy. Junior in high school. Blonde, cute, rich, smart as all hell. Broke it off to pursue even smarter (yet nowhere near as cute, and poor to boot) older girl. Hmmm.
Shoulda: Dunno. Stayed with the cute rich girl and see how it all turned out? Gee, that would have taken like forever. At least a couple of years.

1977: Offered scholarship to college and turned it down (and wrote an entry about it somewhere last year, at least once). Wound up going to local college and not very long at that.
Shoulda: This might be going out on a limb and all, but things have turned out fine. A 4 year liberal arts thingy would probably have turned me into a drone. Or at the very least a clone. And who needs more clones?

1980: Married first and only wife. She had great legs and a hankering for mischief in the front seat of cars (she hasn't been in the backseat yet, by the way. I don't know if that implies complacency or just a need to sit up front. Or whatever).
Shoulda: You're kidding me, right? She reads this thing occasionally. Besides, she still has awesome legs.

1983: First career level job. Worked 11 years as a project manager, designer, draftsman, sometimes carpenter for a woodworking company. Left because of "internal problems", which you could translate any way you'd like but the gist of it is that I was asked to be second fiddle to morons. Who still work there. And they hired a moron to take my place. He loves it there and makes more money than I ever dreamed possible from that job. Yep.
Shoulda: Well I had doubts when I did it, sometimes when money is tight I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking that it was a bonehead move. I mean, I coulda stayed there for life. And wound up being a moron too. But a financially secure one. More cloning issues, no doubt.

1984, '86, '87: Helped make kids and played catcher in the delivery room. Bill Cosby does a funny stint on snagging babies at the hospital and it's all so very true. And he had 5 of 'em.
Shoulda: Started saving money, on the birth of the very first one, in a special account earmarked for "Teenaged Wallet Sucking Mongol Horde & MTV Impresario's". You think I'm kidding.

1996: Started working with Stu in our own little company. Oh, how corporate we felt that day.
Shoulda: Done it so very much sooner.

2001: First online diary entry.
Shoulda: Started that sooner too.

Today: Wrote 2 entries.
Shoulda: Saved one for tomorrow, when I'm fresh out of new material. Oh well. These things happen.

Over and over, it would appear.

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