The other day I was going through an old box of junk and I came across a cd wallet long since forgotten. Inside were such classics as the cd single for The Adam's Groove by M.C. Hammer and Extreme's, Extreme II: Pornograffitti. I don't think that these cds were lost accidentally. It should be adequate to say that it would take "more than words" to explain my current embarrassment.

Yet, there were a few gems, I found several old mix cds that were just as forgotten. Some were unlabeled, others merely had a date inscribed, but they spanned from the very late nineties to 'ought two.

Stop, Grammar Time!

Now, I ought to just say 2002 instead of 'ought two, but understand that I'm a little bit drunk and just trying to be funny. I know I'm not. Wait, is that spelled aught-two? Shit.

Anyways, I gave the mix cds a listen last night. It was strange. So much reminiscing about those whom I made these cds for. Several were intended to be given to certain girls, ones that I had a crush on at the time. Of course, none of the mix cds ever did anything to help my love life. They never do, but I kept making them anyhow. I'll never learn.

Seriously, how can a mix cd containing the long sought William Shatner cover of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", not bring in the chicks? Yeah, I know... I'll never learn.

Stop! Grammar Time.

Do I put song titles in (parenthesis), "quotation marks", or italics? Maybe, it's bold or perhaps underlined? Fuck me... I don't know... and I refuse to look it up right now.

Damn, I'm getting drunker. I used the 'grammer time' joke twice already... lame-oh.

So, I gave these old cds a listen and I was overwhelmed with sadness. A quick check of my computer told me that I still had all these songs on my hard drive. Hmm, now I'm not one to advocate the destruction of information, but this was personal... and I still had all the songs already saved.

I gathered up about four of the worst offenders, picked up my glass of Suntory, (thank you, Jason) and headed for the kitchen.

In the microwave they went, memories of playlists and lost loves, lost in favor of a cleansing fireworks display, lasting about only five seconds.