I mistrust those who claim to live without regrets. Regrets carve the topology of our souls as much as any actions. When cultivated, they can be so instructive I struggle to grasp how I could cope without them. For instance, I regret paying Tim Lopez $3 to eat that cockroach. He would have done it for $1.25 easy, and the explosion later that day in class would have been no less spectacular. I regret shoving all those stray cats through the dog door of my neighbor's house while they were on vacation. It boggles the mind how much mess and misery can come from a lighthearted prank, not to mention I had to mow their lawn for the next four years. I regret hiding grampa’s false teeth in the lasagna at my sister’s 11th birthday party. Things were said that night, ugly things, that should never have been uttered. That was my bad, sweetheart. It’s safe to eat again. Try the canoli! I regret sleeping with Kim’s mom almost as much as I regret that Kim caught us. I regret I didn’t sell my soul for half of Joss Whedon’s talent, but then again, maybe it’s not too late. To sum up the point, I treasure many moments of my own asinine behavior. These are gifts that just keep giving. I'm bad enough with them, but I can scarcely imagine the idiot I would be today if I lived without regrets. I urge you to go forth and do something regrettable tonight.