Welcome to the annual Regrets Issue! Now, gurl, you know that I usually totally deny that I entertain anything so base and useless as "regret" every single year that we do these silly "Regrets Issue" thingies, right? (Google that shit—it's fact!) I'm always all like, "What? Regret? ME? Pfffft. Gurl, you CRAZY!" I mean, who has the time? Who has the patience? I take a strong stance against such nonsense, politically and personally, and urge you to do the same. But of course, I guess I am occasionally human or whatever (LIES!), and how can one help but NOT not regret some little thing or other from time to time? So fine, okay, um, Jesus, I regret stuff. Sometimes. YEAH. SURE.

WHATEVER. But I'll have you know that all of my (ahem) alleged "regrets" are broad and sweeping, not personal and petty. For instance! I regret that we're all going to die, you know, like, any fucking second. The seas are rising! The corporate oligarchy is preparing to attack! It snowed in fucking EGYPT! (BTW: That tickle in the back of your throat? Radiation. Fukushima. Bzzzzzt!) So yeah, that sucks. I also regret that the poles are gonna shift and the dinosaurs come back or something, or at the very least, we are all facing a future that looks a little too much like The Hunger Games had a baby with The Handmaid's Tale. (OMG—Michele Bachmann just had an explosive orgasm. First ever.) I regret Vladimir Putin and all those Richard Simmons pictures I posted on Facebook (#thatgurl). But far be it from me to wax (if you'll pardon the expression) "political" or any crazy shit like that. I write about gay bars and drag queenz! Shezus Christ. Which I do not regret one little bit, for the record. I LOVE IT. Every minute. Hot damn.

OH! And I regret Zoe on American Horror Story: Coven (she couldn't act her way into a paper bag), and I regret Congress and Fox News (politics! Whoopsies!), and I regret the implosion that was the promise that was Q nightclub. But not really. (One never can tell.)

But really! I truly and totally regret the loss of Bauhaus Books & Coffee, and every other aggressive condo-stinking assault on our sacred Hill. (They are eating our homeland alive! Stone-cold fact.) Mostly, however! I regret every pickle I didn't tickle and dance I didn't sing, but don't we all? Shoo.

Also, please note! I regret the deaths of Nelson Mandela (of course) and Peter O'Toole (naturally) and darling Alex Calderwood, who gave us so very much (Rudy's, Ace Hotel, the old ARO.space, SO MUCH). On the other hand! I extra-specially regret the not-deaths of all of Congress and more than all of Fox News. (I weep about it, as I try to sleep at night. Weep!) Sorry not sorry.