To be destroyed in the event of my untimely (or timely) death

It’s been awfully depressing around here lately. Sorry ya’ll. Let’s liven it up by talking about more things that cause me some level of personal embarrassment. A few weeks ago, Swistle wrote about “burn boxes” – boxes of things that we will demand to be burnt after our deaths. Since I, too, was once an earnest young wannabe writer, I have plenty of material for a burn box. 

I think everyone has one (or more) of these – all of the flowered-material-covered journal books in my possession. Some have terrible poetry in them. One is filled with quotations I earnestly copied with my best pen in my best penmanship during a particularly angst-filled freshman year of college. All these quotations, you see, were so deep and meaningful and spoke to my very soul. 

All photographs of me smoking pot. Not that I ever did that. But if I did, and was stupid enough to take pictures of it, those pictures should be burned. 

The cd that holds the naked pictures of a very pregnant me. We thought it would be arty and beautiful. It looks like a fat pregnant chick laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Please. 

The taped evidence of our (conception!) vacation to Italy (no, freak shows, the actual conception is not on tape). I took Italian in college (eight years prior to this trip), and thought I could totally get us around on what I remembered. While I got us around even in a hole-in-the-wall Florentine trattoria where no one spoke English, listening to me trying to speak the language with our gondolier is so painful it’s (almost) funny. BURN IT. 

Various pictures of me doing embarrassing things – Doing the “Batman” dance  (a’ la’ Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction) at Pleasure Island in 2000 (with, of course, a beer in one hand); doing a fantastic side kick in the middle of Bourbon Street in 2001 (in a dress, panties showing… OMG it’s THE SAME DRESS from Pleasure Island); peeing outside someone’s hotel room window at Disney World’s Caribbean Resort in 1998; tying yellow police caution tape, sugar packets, streamers and a hot sauce bottle in my hair during a particularly spectacular Mardi Gras celebration at a bar in Evansville. Don’t laugh. There was a respected attorney there wearing shorts in February and dress loafers without socks. 

The 500+ page “novella” I wrote in the eighth grade about how me and my two best friends were going to meet the New Kids On the Block and fall in love with one (each), get married and honeymoon in Australia. There was also the beginnings of a sequel, but I think I grew out of that phase quickly. At the time I was reading a lot of Harlequin romances and Danielle Steele novels. Bet you can’t guess which New Kid I liked. (Erin, no fair giving it away).

So what about you? What goes in your burn box?

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8 Responses to To be destroyed in the event of my untimely (or timely) death

  1. Erin says:

    I also have several flower covered journals….including the one filled with deep, meaningful quotes. What was that about? As if having written down the deep, meaningful words that someone else came up with I would become a deep and meaningful person…

  2. Vixen says:

    I was the master of discretion. There is no viable proof (except my then boyfriend/now husband) of anything bad I did from 1979 on. Well there was that one tape he took of me once to an Eagles’ song, but we taped over that…..

    So when I go, I guess I will have to request they burn Mr. Vixen

  3. Colleen says:

    It was Joey, right?

    Everyone loved Joey….

  4. noodle says:

    Unfortunately, a college friend has some videos that would really go in my burn box — footage of me doing karaoke in a London pub (drunk), footage of me stumbling down the aisle of a double-decker bus and trying to pick up the various English blokes therein (drunk) and a really horribly dramatic vidoe project of several of us putting on a Road Rules-type skit (sober, but really, drunk would have been better).

  5. noodle says:

    Was it Jonathan? Or was I the only one who crushed on Jon?

  6. Bwah hahahaha! “Police caution tape, sugar packets and hot sauce in my hair…” You are living the good life, my friend. No one can say you do not know how to have fun. And yes, I have the floral fabric journals full of deep, meaningful quotes…

  7. Marlee says:

    Oh the shame, I was in Luv with Danny. I think all of the New Kids stuff that is still in the closet at my parents house should go in the box.

    Some of your other things made me laugh.out.loud.

    I needed it.

  8. What a great post. I feel we’re the same person, ha.

    I need to think on this but some poetry-filled journals would definitely be on my list.

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