1. The contents of this journal have become unconscionably sexual of late. I know why this is, but there's no reason the rest of you should suffer. I'm sorry.
2. The word 'bitch' has been creeping into my repertoire quite a bit of late (although never, oddly enough, to describe women or a specific woman). So sorry.
3. No sooner did I bitch (see?) about my freelancing drying up than I got a ton of big jobs, and now I'm so busy that my spine fell out. Please accept my apology.
4. I used to care a lot about the environment and future generations and shit, but now I just wish everybody would die. This is probably a bit short-sighted, and sets a bad tone for those of you with children. I am such a fool.
5. Barack Obama's flowery rhetoric and dreamy former-coke-impulse-buyer mein briefly instilled in me a childish hope for the future of America. Then I woke up, and remembered that politics is a sewer, the worst people are in charge, the economy is essentially a fragile lie, and people are goddamn morons. I cannot place the blame on Barry, because he's just such a cool guy. Instead, I blame myself. And you. I was too blind to see.
6. I lost my cell phone recently and in order to recover my contacts, I sent out a generic form letter to some of you asking for your phone numbers. This should have, instead, been a series of 30 lovingly crafted individual post-cards. Mistakes are part of being young.
7. Speaking of my cell phone, some of you know that I am in the habit of assigning ringtones to my friends based on their geographic location. I never realized before that this could result in someone being electronically identified by a song they do not personally enjoy, and for that I apologize to any of you who are wounded. That don't right the wrong that's been done.
8. There has been entirely too much discussion of cell phones around here lately. Oh, oh, oh, oh, uh-oh, yes.
9. I may have mistakenly given some of you the following mistaken impressions: I am worth $5.4 billion; I am the comic book superhero known as Black Lightning; my generative organ is nearly three feet long; I predicted Pearl Harbor, the Kennedy assassination, and 9/11 in advance, and blamed them all on the same person; I can type while unconscious or sleeping; dark skin girls is better than light skin; I am your boyfriend. None of these things are technically true and I apologize for the implication. I'm sorry.
10. Dub Albritton and Ronnie Self technically should be the one to apologize for this, but Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" doesn't have enough lyrics to fill ten entries.