Here we go again. Time to look 2005 in the face and either give it the tongue, blacken its eyes, or beg for forgiveness for 2006. This was a year of flooding levees and fornicating groupies, of shitting out gas-station jerky, stalking celebrities, and calling your girl "daddy." Below, some of our favorite musicians, promoters, writers, and DJs explain in more excruciating detail what regretting 2005 was all about. May your 2006 regrets be the sort that you'd relive in a minute given the chance to regret them all over again. —Eds.

This summer, a great group of folks organized what promised to be an awesome maritime adventure. The "I Sunk Your Battleship" cruise had all of the elements pertinent to a seaborne miracle fiesta—except for the huge stinking dead albatross of a goddamned ship staff. It was bad enough that the bartenders moved slower than glaciers, but what's worse is that just about an hour into the cruise, some jackass named Captain Randy turned the rig around and docked us for the rest of the night. Whatever, we all stuck around and continued to get saucy even after the boat was docked. Our only regret is not deep-sixing Captain Randy out in the middle of the bay when we had the chance. I hope Captain Randy and those bartenders all get pink eye and a bunch of parking tickets and maybe even shit on by pigeons at some point.

Oh yeah, we also regret not playing any house parties all year and I personally regret breaking my stupid arm back in February because I'm startin' to spend more money at Harborview than I am at the bar. Wait, I take that back, I got some good pills off that broken arm. Peace to Harborview. BARFLY, THE SATURDAY KNIGHTS

My biggest regret of this year is having eaten at the fast-food sandwich chain Jimmy John's. Someone should firebomb every fucking Jimmy John's on the planet to spare the human race from their stale bread and avocados that are actually a florescent green sludge. The first time I ate there was in Austin at four in the morning with my friend Sam. I don't know why I ever went back. Their shit makes Subway taste good. GREG ASHLEY, GRIS GRIS

I regret that I wasn't more realistic about the limitations of my own body when I consented to play as many shows in a row as I have this year. The year 2005 has seen me sing with strep throat, bronchitis, and the flu, and it's also seen our drummer play two months' worth of shows with a fractured wrist. I write this from the basement greenroom of Neumo's; I'm about to walk upstairs to sing for 60 minutes when the only other things that have come out of my mouth today have been a few painful croaks and about five quarts of evil-colored phlegm. I guess I had this macho idea that I could take whatever touring 75 percent of the year might bring to my life, but now I'm realizing that there's only so much somebody can take. WILL SHEFF, OKKERVIL RIVER

I regret not trying to meet Beyoncé when I DJed this crazy private party that she played at in November. Dig, if you will, this picture: Beyoncé, a full band, and sexy backup singers performing a full-hour set for a crowd that numbered about 140. Even better, it was at the Rainier Club—Seattle's super-exclusive bastion of olde timey money. Man, the gold-flake cupcakes were delicious. And Beyoncé sure is pretty. KERRI HARROP, DJ CHERRY CANOE

The Top Nine Things that BEN LASHES "Almost Regrets" for 2005:

9. Spending $30 on an Ashlee Simpson "I didn't steal your boyfriend" tour T-shirt. I've got nothing against Ashlee, but I heard that this song is a dig on Lindsay Lohan about that foreign guy from That 70s Show. C'mon girl, everyone knows you're not supposed to be mean to foreign people and anorexics. They just can't help it.

8. Deleting my Friendster account. Even though I hadn't used ol' Friendster in quite a while, I still sometimes miss the drabber, square version of online crush stalking.

7. Not being into Death Cab or Modest Mouse before the rest of the world. Mainly so I could say," Yeah, whatever. I was into Death Cab and Modest Mouse way before the rest of the world."

6. Saying that George Bush doesn't care about black people. I mean, he probably at least liked Sammy Davis Jr. or Winston from Ghostbusters.

5. Getting paid $120,000 to DJ at KEXP.

4. The approximately 117 hours spent talking on the phone with scene queen Amy Dials about what a dick Jason from Laguna Beach is. L.C. deserves so much better.

3. Actually confronting L.C. in the shoe department of Nordstrom about what a dick Jason from Laguna Beach is.

2. Learning from Frank the security "administrator" that not every blond girl trying on boots in Nordstrom is L.C. from Laguna Beach.

1. Believing for 19 consecutive Saturdays that no matter what I heard before, this time it really was "The Last Ever Egg Room Party Ever!"

Throughout the year I predicted winning lottery numbers to all of my friends and family, none of who won. I regret any inconvenience this may have caused. JAMES KEBLAS, MAYOR'S OFFICE OF FILM & MUSIC

I had such an excruciatingly awesome time in the year 2005, including a visit to Seattle's Easy Street Records, that it was hard to come up with any regrets. But there is one: I deeply regret losing my iPod Shuffle (a birthday gift from my life partner, Dorothy) in Lawrence, Kansas, somewhere in between the Jackpot Saloon and Peter Buxton's house party. On the Shuffle at the time of the loss was a mix of songs by the Scottish pop-rock group the Marmalade, Wolf Eyes, Danava, and the Byrds' Younger Than Yesterday. Certain supernatural forces may have been at work, specifically the bad karma incurred from wearing a white-rabbit-fur coat in a liberal college town, a luxurious yet necessary bauble I picked up in Portland to protect against the evening chill of the winter tour. TIM TRAYNOR, DIAMOND NIGHTS

Never, ever let your Ryan Adams curiosities get the better of you. One minute you're standing outside some random Lower East Side dive at 4:00 a.m. trying to convince the bouncer that even though [the show] is all over they really should let you in, and the next minute you're scratching your head wondering how all your guitars could've disappeared so quickly. STEPHEN MCBEAN, BLACK MOUNTAIN

We regret that our favorite television show, The Apprentice: Martha Stewart, will not be renewed. We regret that we could not keep licking to the center of that Tootsie Roll Pop. We regret making those home movies with Paris Hilton and Fred Durst, but we don't regret the one with R. Kelly. Impaled regrets investing our entire band fund into GM stock. Impaled regrets starting that whole "Intelligent Design" joke. We regret letting our ownership of the domain name "myspace.com" default. We regret starting up our "Anti-Hurricane Machine" before realizing we'd wired it backward. We also regret shooting those Christmas carolers and starting the war on Christmas. Impaled especially regrets the birth this year of Stephen William Sanderson of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. You know why, you little fuck. Eat shit! ROSS SEWAGE, IMPALED

I regret missing Derrick May's unannounced appearance at Re-bar's Flammable; spending way too much time looking myself up in obscure forums to see what shit people are talking about me; not switching booking agents when I had the chance because of some false sense of loyalty to Kompakt; buying Stanton needles; not buying an Xbox sooner. JEFF SAMUEL, TECHNO DJ/PRODUCER

I regret not seeing Robert Tyrade bop Bigfoot in Portland. I regret getting our clothes and cameras stolen in San Francisco. I regret Jenna Tyrade's tooth getting knocked out. I regret saying that buying a map was a waste of money in San Diego, and leaving all of the T-shirts there too. I regret trying to spend the night with Adam Hospital instead of starting the drive home in Davis. I regret the Huxtable VIP club not starting until this year. But mostly I regret soft-shell crabs. Rats! LARS FINBERG, INTELLIGENCE

Late July, and I'm packing my life up in Boston in preparation for the move out West. The wife is working nearly every day, and it falls to me to sort out and box up everything. I make two big piles in the living room, one to bring out here and the other to donate. The day before we move, two nice gents from a local charity show up to collect our unwanted goods. A week later we're unpacking in lovely Seattle. It becomes obvious very quickly that we have no shoes beyond what we're currently wearing. Either the charity fellas grabbed from the wrong pile or I put the shoebox in the wrong pile. No big deal for me really, but the wife lost 40 pairs of heels, flats, and sneakers. She's still really, really mad at me about it. My big regret for 2005 was not paying enough damn attention to the giant box of shoes! Sorry baby. EVER KIPP, BARSUK RECORDS

The year 2005 was pretty much like any other year, wasn't it? Yeah, I'm asking YOU—you lazy-ass pig snout trough guzzlers who still think the Earth is round. I have NO regrets exposing all the lost transcripts from Galileo's mistrial that I've managed to procure over the years stating that the Earth is an odd-smelling anvil shoved up your ass backward. I have NO regrets clarifying how you cockatoo larvae-fried mimics display a propensity for the quicksand breaststroke, mired chin-deep in a human skillet where Homo-Pathetica (that's MANKIND for you numbskulls) swirls in belief of swine-greased fairy tales like Al Qaeda. It's quite impressive that a few more of you ignorant subspecies of the one-legged marsupial have figured out that you've been hypnotized into actually believing you produce and direct relevance in the eternal puppet show in the middle of a mirage. As Burmese shamans say to condemn the willfully useless and overly pathetic: "You waste the rice and make the Earth too heavy," listing regrets is an act of documenting failure. My old pal Lemmy Caution had no regrets either because there are only about 63 people who actually matter here in Alphaville. Thank your lucky stars that I've merely scratched the surface. SUN CITY GIRLS' ALAN BISHOP RELAYS A MESSAGE FROM HIS DEBONAIR COMPADRE UNCLE JIM

Well of course [I regret] the whole Katrina thing. We played the Voodoo Fest in New Orleans and walking around New Orleans was just terrible. There's electricity in the French Quarter, but right outside of that it's pitch black. People have guns; it's like the Wild West. And that's the town where [original NY Dolls guitarist] Johnny Thunders died, so we had that to think about too. [Singer David] Johansen couldn't talk about anything for days after the Fest. I mean I've always had certain feelings about the bad shit in this country, but you really saw America for what it is. But we had fun at the Fest. It was a benefit, and we played for a lot of the relief workers and displaced people. At one point, I introduced our old song, "Trash," with "Hey, this one's for your city!" Then I thought, "Whoa, what did I just say?!" I felt terrible and was like, "Oh, sorry, it's not a reflection on your town." But the crowd cracked up laughing, so I don't regret it too much. SYLVAIN SYLVAIN, NEW YORK DOLLS

I will start by saying that I wish I would've sanded my kitchen table so that I didn't have so many splinters in my hand as I write this. I regret playing a [certain Sunday night] show at El Corazón (not including the bands)! Add to the list me missing Tom Waits at my workplace by a phone call. Most of all I regret that fucking cancer had to take my mom away this year. After that I regret not being able to tour as much as [Big Business's] Cody Willis does. Bastard! DAVE WEEKS, THE COPS

I regret not telling John "Beats" Hollahan of the band Bayside that I loved him one more time before we parted ways.I regret, band after band, year after year, buying into the major-label lie. I regret ever entering New Jersey or meeting anyone from there, unless they play for Penn State's football team. I regret snapping my kick pedal in half in the middle of our set opening for Korn. I regret opening for Korn. I regret not getting to that rabbit a minute earlier before it got crushed in front of my house by a speeding car. I regret the most absurd call in baseball playoff history in game two of the Angels/White Sox series. I regret being such a Star Wars fan that I'm willing to let go of the hate... and accept Episode III. I regret my regrets, but I think they're getting fewer each year. BURKE THOMAS OVERDRIVE, PRIS/VENDETTA RED

We here at Sub Pop Records are a wily, unapologetic bunch of raconteurs who rarely, if ever, have reason to apologize for or regret our nearly perfectly conducted lives and business affairs. Inventing a mythical city named "Montreal" in a made-up "country" called "Canada" and startin' up the ol' Hype Machine for all the bands on our label that are really from Kansas City so they could say they were from a "hot" new "scene" and get loads of "fluffy, homogenous press"? Pure visionary magic! But, readers, Sub Pop Records truly and deeply regrets one and only one faux pas in 2005: Not Moving Offices Sooner. If you've never smelled and seen a street-man's shitsplosion after he's downed three gallons of Uptown Espresso and shot two bags of Honduras Brown Tar, then you don't know what our bathroom sitch was like at the old digs we shared with the "Sure! Have the bathroom keys!" coffee place next door. Not even Matador would have put up with it. JOAN HILLER, SUB POP

I regret booking a show with out-of-town bands on my anniversary. It was inadvertent, but instead of spending time with my wonderful boyfriend, I was shuttling people around town and pissing him off. I regret that it took the destruction of New Orleans for people to finally realize that our president is all spin and no substance. I also regret that our president has three more years left to fuck stuff up. I regret the smoking ban. Not smelling like an ashtray after a night out is nice, but goddamn, at least smoke covered up all the other nasty smells emanating from the bodies of fellow patrons. Since the ban, I have smelled more beer farts, cheese feet, and stank cologne than I ever thought possible. Is there enough time to get a fart and B.O. ban on the ballot for 2006? I regret standing in line for food for over an hour during the Joanna Newsom set at Sasquatch. I should've left the area, or put an ice pick through my head. It's an hour of my life I'll never get back. CHRISTIAN OLSON, WIRE/DJ DEADAIR

First off, I regret putting our faith and trust in the release of our highly anticipated (by us) debut album, Bayonets, in the hands of someone I've never met, or even spoken to. In the future I at least want dinner first before getting dumped. We regret losing our lovely first guitarist, Ron Miller, to the irresistible enchantments of a defunct-high-school-turned-artist retreat somewhere in deepest, darkest Kansas—but this regret was quickly reversed when our even lovelier new guitarist, Kimberly Morrison, joined the fold. And on that note, I regret buying a white van. As our new member has increased our collective party index by several points, the next van will be painted "Metallic Barf." DAVID BESSENHOFFER, NEW FANGS

I'm one of those glass-is-half-full (of beer) kind of guys.When my girlfriend broke up with me it afforded me the opportunity to not have a girlfriend. When I lost my job it afforded me the opportunity to travel and start my own business. Although I believe you should always face things head on, I still wonder what it would have been like had I just stayed in Amsterdam. Hell, the consequences would have been the same. I know people like to say that you can't run from your problems. But what if you ran to the Netherlands? What if you spent endless days watching beautiful women ride by on bicycles and your nights stoned out of your skull in the Red Light District? In the long run the sex is much cheaper anyway. No mortgages, kids to feed, or in-laws to visit. Just a bottle of wine, a joint, and a dream. So this year my only regret is that I'm not living in a gutter on the streets of Amsterdam. Why not? You can't even fucking smoke here anymore. JED MAHEU, DUDES PR

I regret the loss of civility and understanding among people, those fucking bastards. I regret that Christ wasn't born in April so it would be warmer now. I regret spreading botulism at a Sizzler salad bar in Laramie, Wyoming. I regret that my offer to feature the Olsen Twins in my upcoming film (The Naked and the Pedestrian) was declined. I regret my last New Year's resolution—to stop writing for free papers. BLAG DAHLIA, THE DWARVES

I'm not too familiar with regret this year—which is a good thing, I suppose, but in more of a boring, I-must-finally-be-getting-my-shit-together-because-I'm-getting-old kinda way. The regrets of the past are way more fun to write about. Things like, "Turns out those pills didn't go too well together after all" and "Man, we shoulda saved some drugs for the morning" or "I guess that Roman Candle war could've waited until we were out of town." Now a days I have regrets like, "I guess I shouldn't have thrown all the boxes in the house away because it's Christmas and my wife really needs those pieces of crap now." Or how I wish I had never let my 4-year-old son watch Nickelodeon because now he wants the Rock Girl's Party Plane for Christmas. And you know what? He's going to get the Rock Girl's Party Plane for Christmas. Who wouldn't want to go on a plane where the Rock Girls are PARTYING? I always knew he was a smart kid. EDDIE SPAGHETTI, SUPERSUCKERS

I regret becoming basically nocturnal this year. I regret still working in the service industry at 29. I regret the exorbitant fines and collection practices deployed by the Seattle Parking Authority. I regret the ugly little shit of a dog who bit my much more handsome dog at Volunteer Park. I regret that last drink. I regret attempting to skip foreplay. I regret losing, on separate occasions, my passport, debit card (twice), and my paycheck for the Hella article. I regret not returning the movies on time. I regret not finally getting my shit together. I regret drunkenly tackling my roommate in the middle of Fourth Avenue in full view of the W hotel. I regret being allotted only 200 words to list what I regret. GRANT BRISSEY, WRITER

I regret always wishing I were on tour when I am at home for a long time, and wishing I was home when I am on tour for a long time. I regret that I can't fall asleep in a moving vehicle unless I'm behind the wheel. I regret that there is still no practical way to listen to vinyl records while driving. There is nothing more torturous than finding gold in a record store on tour and knowing you have weeks before you actually can sit down and listen to it. I regret the use of cell phones because it means you have to listen to bandmates fight with their girlfriends/boyfriends while on tour. (My bandmates regret listening to me always ask to borrow their cell phones.) I regret that in Ohio and the rest of the Midwest and East Coast, touring in the winter means six months of white-knuckle drives through treacherous blizzards and icy roads on 8-hour road trips that should only take 3 hours. I regret playing with bands who always want to borrow your equipment in their hometowns. I regret there is no health insurance for full-time musicians. I regret that I am a slow typist, it is late, and I missed last call at the corner bar... ANDREW ROBERTSON, THE TOUGH AND LOVELY

I regret getting old. Mostly, I regret that so many, many of the rock 'n' roll tribe aren't doing it as gracefully as I am. Rock is a game for the young and the brilliant. You need to be at least one of those. Take Mötley Crüe. Regrettably, Mick's got both feet in the grave, and Vince is just mostly lame, Tommy's still an unabashed spaz, but NIKKI still OWNS it—perpetually pretty and pitch perfect posturing. I regret that a lot of the over-40 set aren't representing for the rock so well. Then there's Rocket from the Crypt. This year featured the last ever Rocket show. I regret that not everyone could be there to bear witness to the greatness and the glory that was the unparalleled and brilliant RFTC laying it down, and walking away, and leaving the legacy intact. I regret that John Reis is not the boss of rock bands. Or me. Or Nikki. Because if you're not playing well anymore, you need to get out of the game. I regret knowing all too well of what I speak. JULIANNE ANDERSEN/OLD DOG ROCK PIMP

I regret things I didn't make happen. [At Coachella], I found myself in an exclusive Spin/VH1 afterparty watching Diplo and Perry Farrell DJ to a crowd of music types—including J.C. from *NSYNC, M.I.A., Talib Kweli, and unrecognizable VH1 personalities. I go to get my [jump] ropes and Mos Def runs right into me. I wanted to double dutch with him so badly but I couldn't work up the nerve to approach him or his entourage. From what I hear he would've loved it.

The Holiday Double Dutch Classic at the Apollo was the entire reason I went to NYC. I tried to gather a giant posse and I left one very important person out, Conor Oberst. Let me tell you, he loves double dutch. I would've loved to roll up to the Apollo to watch jump roping with that tiny man but I lost his number. MELISSA QUAYLE, VERA PROJECT

No regrets you say? Bullshit! Rock 'n' roll is fueled by the stuff—along with guilt, anger, resentment, shame, and jealousy! It's what you do with these complex feelings that's important: One person might walk into the Tacoma Mall with a loaded gun to express himself while another (like myself) will just write a really bad song full of self-indulgent misery! I'm not sure which is worse! (I'll let you be the judge when my solo CD comes out in March.)

Top regrets of '05: I should have cheated on my income tax like any good businessperson, saving thousands of dollars that could have been used to finance my many vices! I should have never joined MySpace—think of how I could have spent that time while in a "mad dash" to obtain as many online celebrity friends as possible! Then again, I regret that I don't have even MORE celebrity friends on MySpace (next year's resolution). I should have asked Brandi Carlile for a royalty rate for playing drums on her record, considering it's a beautiful CD that's bound to go platinum sometime soon! And finally, I regret that I am not a smoker and cannot fully appreciate what they must be going through. No longer can I consider myself a total outcast like I did before. I wish I could join in on their sad and pathetic chorus every evening; instead I sit at the bar all by myself, downing one drink after another, looking out the window at all those losers (secretly wishing that I was "one of them"). MARK PICKEREL

I had a lot of trouble coming up with a regret story, as I try to ascribe to Edith Piaf's motto "Je ne regrette pas," living life to the fullest and sleeping with as many younger men as possible... but then one story came to mind. I did a favor for a former friend by tagging her band onto a bill I had booked at the Comet. Her band opened the show—played late, played too long, and were so horrendous I thought about putting an ice pick in my skull. When the show was finished, I paid all the bands. After looking at the money I gave her, she demanded more cash, citing that she had brought a lot of people to the show. At first I thought she was kidding (there were about 10 people who paid to see her play) and laughed about it. She got incensed and called me a liar and accused me of "ripping her off." Despite my telling her that she wasn't owed any money, and that I had paid her fairly, she kept at it and in an angry rage. I shoved $25 of my own cash down the front of her shirt... I really regret that I didn't have her 86'd instead. $25 buys a lot of PBR. DJ MAMMA CASSEROLE

I regret that Howard Schultz and Wally Walker are a bunch of cheap bastards that can't or won't get a good center so the SuperSonics can finally compete for a championship! STEVEN SEVERIN, CHOP SUEY

I regret that in the age of technology we're living in, the Arbitron Radio Ratings system is still conducted by giving random people a piece of paper and hoping they remember what they listened to. I regret that based on those results (which are typically about a 30 percent return), you are fed the same boring, repetitive programming and playlists by commercial radio stations and I regret that they still haven't realized that THAT really sucks.

I regret that groups like the Divorce, Blue Scholars, the Beautiful Mothers, Kane Hodder, Slender Means, Visqueen, the Balls, and the Valley are not being heard all over the world, but Nickelback is.

I regret how our administration handled a horrible disaster in New Orleans. I regret that a war that should have never happened is still ongoing, that our troops aren't home safe, and that our country is still being run by underhanded, dirty, lying thieves.

I regret that movies like Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch's War on Journalism, The Corporation, and Uncovered: The War on Iraq were not in every theater worldwide, but that J.Lo and Jane Fonda made $153,774,400 with Monster-in-Law. LISA WOOD, KEXP

I regret eating so much gas-station food on tour. Sometimes I'm just starving and need protein and all there is are nuts and beef jerky, and [then] I turn into an oversaturated ball of sodium. Ugh. I regret not getting into Lost earlier. The premise seemed so lame, but like many things it's taken me a year and a half to wise up to the fact that it's brilliant and addictive. I regret not spending more time in the Pacific Northwest. I'm seriously soothed by that area—particularly Portland, which is the best small city I know of. If I was forced to leave New York, I'd try living there and being randomly unemployed. After all, cheap rent, beautiful city, and cute boys! What's not to love? EDWARD DROSTE, GRIZZLY BEAR

Regrets are fairly useless. Like I don't really regret buying a cheeky Heaven 17 record as my first record, or much later fooling around with a heavenly 17-year-old when the cops could've questioned me about it. Things just happen because that was your choice at the time—such as my decision this year to move from $2-beer Columbus, Ohio, to $6-beer (not counting tip) New York City. I've sadly amassed nowhere near the amount of hangovers I assumed would occur upon moving to the city that never sleeps. But hey, I recently got $40 on eBay for that Heaven 17 LP, that 17-year-old is saddled with two kids today, and I'm going to go get kind of drunk tonight 'til whenever. ERIC DAVIDSON, WRITER

Thank you, thank you, wonderful Stranger, for letting me reflect on this past year! Ah, sweet memories! This was going to be the year in which I finally wrote my first book, recorded a spoken-word album, learned to juggle nine balls, traveled back to India to hang out with Tibetan monks in the Himalayas, ran for Seattle City Council, went on tour with my new band, spent even more time with my friends, bought a new car, made another movie, got dressed up in a suit and went out for Thai food, and got caught up on all my e-mail. Hmm. Wait a minute. I didn't do ANY of this. Come to think of it, I feel just awful now! Come to think of it even further, this wasn't such a good year after all. Thanks a LOT for rubbing it in! I think I'll be starting 2006 with a nice big dose of expensive therapy about my pathetic and broken life. Stupid, stupid Stranger... GREG BENNICK, TRIAL

As Henry David Thoreau said, "Make the most of your regrets... To regret deeply is to live afresh." With that in mind... I regret that I didn't buy a bunch of houses back in the '80s when they were under $100k. I regret that I never visited New Orleans. I regret that I never saw Townes Van Zandt play at the Backstage. The main one that haunts me lately is by far the most significant and far reaching. I regret that my children will have to grow up and live in post-Bush America. I feel a deep distress and sadness whenever I think about it, not that it was due to anything I did. KYLA FAIRCHILD, NO DEPRESSION/HATTIE'S HAT

First and foremost, I regret the devastating loss of my best friend for the past six years, George the cat (RIP). I regret Americans' continued fascination with "reality" television. I regret living in a city unable to deliver a functioning mass-transit system (how many F#@&ING times must we vote for the monorail?). Due to the embarrassing turnout, I regret booking Richie Hawtin this past summer at the Showbox. I regret another year living under the Bush regime (Christian fascism has got to go). I regret having to stand in the middle of the street if I legally want to smoke a cigarette in Seattle (I am in favor of the ban, but 25 feet is ridiculous). I regret ironic buttrock T-shirts on Capitol Hill (they now have AC/DC T-shirts at Target!). I regret not being able to personally thank every performer, sponsor, volunteer, attendant, writer, and director connected to this past year's Decibel Festival (you know who you are; thank you!). SEAN HORTON (AKA NORDIC SOUL), DECIBEL FESTIVAL DIRECTOR/PRODUCER/DJ

This one time I thought it'd be a good idea to call this girl I was dating "daddy" while having sex—you know, to be funny in an unfunny situation (gets a laugh in retrospect). But then she really thought I was gay and that I had a weird thing about dads—like I was molested or something. I could never really convince her that I wasn't a freak so the relationship went to shit and it also started this dumb rumor. Then everyone started interrogating me, which made me start to doubt myself and also brought up some tough questions that I wasn't really prepared to answer. You know, like not every kid likes football or can catch a baseball, and so what if I watched the Care Bears? I dug Lionheart, what's so fucking emasculating about that?! He's a Lion who's in touch with his emotions and that takes more balls than catching a damn football. FINN PARNELL, SIBERIAN

We regret: Playing the Central Saloon; Turning down for half of a song at the request of the Central's management. However, we do NOT regret watching the bartenders plug their ears; That Jawbreaker broke up 10 years ago; That The Stranger hasn't done a full-page interview with us. We're gonna be huge... seriously; That our debut EP, Again & Again & Again, has only gone double aluminum; Not writing the theme song to King of Queens when we had the chance. Danny regrets the random PDAs he performed on girls who he mistook as his girlfriend. Lots of girls have short hair. Check the face, man! Colin regrets spilling beer on himself when he saw his ex-girlfriend. That was NOT cool. Jasen regrets admitting that he idolized Vermilion. Jasen and Colin regret not getting arrested on the Fourth of July for trying to finish their beers in an unmarked cop car. SPEAKER SPEAKER

My big regret for 2005 is the same regret I have every year: not learning how to dance. I am probably not going to learn in 2006 either. I just stand, sipping my drink, watching all the drunk kids have fun flailing about and wishing I were out there showing them all how it's done. Because I think I'd learn something good like the tango. JAKE SNIDER, MINUS THE BEAR

We regret that between the four of us, we could not come up with a single clever regret by the submission deadline for this piece. I suppose then, that we regret being slow-witted when it counts. THE DIVORCE

I don't regret being a dreamer. I do regret not completing quite a few things I thought so much about. It's okay, I just need to focus—like the haphazard pile of possessions I keep in my back room. For almost all of this and half of last year—or, oh lord, longer—I have planned to downsize. It's still there.

I feel like I regret getting a job at a bar. I've already been a night owl, but bar closing keeps me even more nocturnal—and more often than not, industry people respect each other in the sense of pouring booze too freely to comrades. I now drink too much. I won't be working in a bar again if I can help it. JAN NORBERG, BATS OF BELFRY

The past year has been unusually saturated with casting off of regret conceptually and completely (at least for a time). As one of two founding co-chairs of the Villainaire's Academy, I enterprised on a "summer of shame" and subsequent reproachable expressions of utter nihilism. I certainly did a much greater quantity and intensity of tremendously regrettable acts, and yet raced, with moral tunnel vision, through the Sparks-drowned manifest destiny of the VA's opening season. While I am retroactively horrified at my nearness to seriously damaging friendships, relationships, and the bodies of human beings, I cannot regret my villainous tenure, as it has brought a much more severe and oblique understanding of myself and the very meaning/meaninglessness of life. Viva El Diablo. SAM MICKENS, THE DEAD SCIENCE/DEGENERATE ART ENSEMBLE

I regret not being informed that the "photos with Santa" area of our Stranger Holiday Bash meant "photos that go straight to The Stranger website, no matter how terrible the shot—or how many shots you've had." I regret getting flown all the way to Aarhus, Denmark, for the Spot music festival and seeing nothing but music venues and money-changing stations. I regret how addicted I became to America's Top Model, when the show has obviously gone so far downhill. And yet, I... can't... stop... watching... it. I regret that while in Denmark, I lost the business card for Dungen's manager, thereby frustrating my ability to put on a live Dungen laser-light show in Seattle. On that same note, I regret not asking Animal Collective to do a live laser show while they were recording here. I regret the sunburn that swelled my eyes shut in Mexico because I wanted to return home with a "tan." I regret that I no longer care about going to after-hours parties; any damage that can be done between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. does not need to be quadrupled by my staying out until 6. I regret that punk "icon" Legs McNeil is such a fucking asshole in person. To have plugged his new porn book, gone to his reading, cringed as he flipped rude comments to his audience, gone for drinks with him and some mutual friends, only to find out he's a cantankerous, self-loathing, rude old shit was pretty fucking disappointing... And I regret that half these regrets I only feel sorta bad about. JENNIFER MAERZ, MUSIC EDITOR