"Should old acquaintance be forgot ..."

Foreign Press did a very strange article titled "The Best Years of the Decade."

Well, it wasn't so much of an article as it was a list ... with no explanations whatsoever as to the reasoning behind their choices.

Anyway, I decided to follow suit and come up with a list of my own, based upon my personal experience with the last 10 years. And in case you're wondering, 1 = the best and 10 = the worst.

1. 2002
2. 2001
3. 2000
4. 2009
5. 2004
6. 2005
7. 2003
8. 2006
9. 2007
10. 2008

Okay, so 2002 was a pretty awesome year. I graduated from high school and began my college career. The years 2000 and 2001 marked the years that I finally discovered that I was a pretty cool person, despite not being in the in-crowd (which had included the same set of people since middle school). Sure, there were bad times during this period (9/11, getting my first ticket, etc.), but all in all, it was a pretty positive experience. I got my first job, my first boyfriend (who was an emotionally abusive person but I thankfully had the smarts to get the hell out of that relationship), went on what was probably the most fun prom ever (my friend Jesse and I went together and it was a blast - no sexual tension, since Jesse was gay, and all we did was eat and dance on the General Jackson showboat, my class' idea).

As of yet, 2009 has been one of the better years of the latter half of this decade, at least for me. I, unlike a lot of people, managed to find a job after being unemployed for 7 months. In October, I celebrated my anniversary of moving back with the parents, which has been both a frustrating and a enlightening time. But I'm moving in a direction to where I am a better person.

And now, for the crappy years. 2004 was the year right after I told my parents to get the hell out of my life (because I, like, wanted to be independent, yo), spent all of my savings because I couldn't find a job and I was having to pay for rent and utilities. I bought a dog on credit - love you, Maggie, who was actually named Stoli when I bought her, given my penchant for naming animals after alcoholic beverages. I also got in a wreck with a car I had bought for $600 that I had named Spaz. Spaz was a 1987 Ford Escort hatchback that was kept together by bubble gum, popsicle sticks and happy thoughts and was not able to stop at any point during a driving adventure because the car would die. True story. I got pulled over so many times until the cops realized that I wasn't trying to break the law and just kind of waved as I passed by. Well, I was rear-ended by a semi-truck that completely destroyed the car. That was fun. I spent the rest of this year trying to make up for mistakes I had made with my parents.

2005 is where it is because I can't really remember much of what happened that year except that it was just a bad year; it's kind of like I remember middle school sucking big hairy balls but I've blocked so much of it from my memory that it doesn't really matter that much. I remember that I broke up with my boyfriend of 2 years in July because I realized there was no future. Later on, we got back together for what was the most miserable two months of my life, relationship wise, and then he broke up with me on my birthday over the phone, even though I had stupidly decided to make us work.

Moving on, I brought in 2006 with a glass of champagne and tears in my eyes because I hadn't really gotten over my ass-munching ex-boyfriend. The next four or five months was me being depressed, amazingly graduating from college and trying to find a job. I worked at Borders down on West End in Nashville, under the worst manager I have ever had: Karen. God, I hate that name now; anyone named Karen, I am sorry, but I will automatically despise you and will probably have to start calling you something else to avoid having negative thoughts about you. Anyway, I resigned my job after 3 months because she was a heinous bitch. I'll admit I wasn't the best employee, but she never was able to tell me what exactly I was doing wrong or how I could correct it. Instead, she talked about me behind my back, not only to the other managers, but to the regular employees, as well. The last two weeks of working there, I was called to jury duty, but it was for a federal child pornography case, so I got to watch gay porn with young teenage boys for nearly two weeks straight. But I didn't have to deal with Karen, for which I was thankful. We ended up convicting him of 11 of the 23 counts, sending him to jail for 15 years minimum; I honestly don't know the punishment, as I kind of separated myself after the trial was over. Then I got another job, working for DirectBuy as a shipping specialist and got let go due to poor sales the day my family and I were celebrating my birthday. Plus, I had just made another bad decision and had bought a Harley Davidson Sportster 883 on impulse. Granted, that year, I had met and started dating Kyle, which was for the most part a very positive romantic relationship. We still remain friends, although we don't see each other as much as I would like.

Oh, 2007. What a year you were. First of all, I brought in the year with a bang. The motorcycle I had bought in December was defective and ended up giving me lovely third degree burns on my right leg. When I went to the burn unit at Vanderbilt, I was told I would have to have skin grafts, I had no idea what I was going to do. I had no job and no way to pay for the surgeries, but I had to get them done or else I would never heal. What a great experience. I spent four months in recovery, taking narcotics around the clock and dealing with constant pain. Kyle and I broke up and got back together and then broke up again. Oh, the drama. I started working at Olive Garden in Mount Juliet, where I made a lot of relationship missteps, although nothing too irreparable. I ended up having to work all of the major holidays, although I was told I could have at least one of them off. But nope. I had to deal with holiday assholes. Granted, this was the first year in a while where my birthday hadn't been totally craptastic. Plus, my best friend came back into my life, after I had basically divorced her, for reasons that remain between us. But, as a whole, 2007 was my second worst year.

And then 2008 happened. Sigh. It had started out as such a good year, too. Harley Davidson stepped up and paid for my medical bills and I was able to get out on my own. I was working as a cocktail waitress, making decent money, and I bought my little Zola Pants. Then the summer came. The economy went to pot and so my income went way down, almost to $100/week, so I had to dip into the savings I had to pay for my rent and utilities and other payments. Then the credit card debt went up after that was all gone. And then I moved back in with my parents and I stopped working at the bar. Granted, I was lucky to have my parents when I needed them. They paid my bills when they realized how much trouble I was in and put up with my depressed behavior. So I guess this year, while horrible and arguably my worst financial year, was mixed with little blessings.

So, here ends my little summary of the last ten years of my life. And I am actually kind of excited for 2010 to begin in, well, right now, four and a half hours.

Happy New Year!!!