Be your own Ghost of Christmas Past

Creep out your future self with an e-mail from the past!

Now, if only someone would create a site that would allow me to e-mail my past self. I think my message would go something like this:

Dear past me,

Beware of dating bartenders, barbacks, strippers, etc. Also, never get involved with anyone named Scott. Barring that, don't date nine men named Scott. Most of them will turn out to be jerks.

Don't accept a cigarette from anyone, even if she is paying for your ticket to the Depeche Mode concert. Also, show up late to that concert: Stabbing Westward is never worth seeing, and Primal Scream will have one of their worst performances that night.

Don't bother going to the Rozz Williams/Gitane Demone show. They will both be detained on drug charges that night and you will be stuck watching that douchebag from Godless strutting around in a jockstrap.

Drunkenly making sand-angels on the volleyball court at Charlie's is not cute. It's tacky as hell. Also, puking off the balcony at a party is a major faux pas. It's probably best if you don't drink at all, lest you make an ass out of yourself.

On that note, don't bounce two rent checks buying drugs for a guy named Scott so he will have sex with you. Nobody's that hot.

Finally, don't spend the night of your 18th birthday riding around with Jenny and Aviva trying to find an Italian bisexual vampire wearing a red velvet dress and making reckless U-turns on busy streets in Glendale with half a bottle of vodka under the passenger seat. Do not bring him back to the house. Believe me: the chemical burns that will result from that evening will not be pleasant.

Sincerely,
Your future self.

P.S. Never, ever, ever shave your head.