I recently sold my TI-83+ and TI-89 calculators to a coworker, since her children needed them for school. The most difficult math I'm allowed to touch as a fledgling business major is addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division—limited to one function per day, of course. While I have a soft spot in my heart for expensive graphing calculators, I could not bear to force this friend of mine to scrounge up hundreds of dollars to fork over to Texas Instruments when I had exactly what she needed collecting dust in a drawer.

But the point of this entry is not to make me sound like a nice person. (I am not.) Rather, I would like to share a brief list of the things I was pleasantly surprised to find whilst I was searching for the (gosh dang) connector cable for the TI-89. I only barely touched the surface of four small containers, but I unearthed a veritable cornucopia of charming belongings:

• 33-cent stamps
• really nice headphones from 2003, which have been desperately missed since the iPod earbuds started disintegrating five months ago
• pink mini-Sharpie attached to an official Sharpie lanyard (from an official Sharpie rep) attached to my Office Depot name tag from 2005
• CD-player-to-cassette-player adapter from 2000
• candle warmer from 2006
• mysterious Ziploc bag holding one dollar bill and 83 cents in change, which has been randomly resurfacing at the least expected moments over the past decade
• a printed copy of a heartbreaking IM conversation between two friends from 2005
• Corel Print House Magic user's guide from 1997
• address labels from 2001, the only ones I have ever owned aside from that one sheet sent to me by Seventeen magazine when I first subscribed
• my fish (still alive!) from 2008
• a sunflower (not alive!) from last week

I also found a flash drive, one rollerball mouse, one optical mouse, four film cameras, one of those Polaroid sticker cameras, two cordless telephones, four cell phone chargers, and five tons of other tech-related goodies, but those aren't nearly as entertaining. Aged address labels, though . . . Wow, those are just hawt. I can't wait to start sending letters to people. Want to be pen pals? I'll lose your letters pretty quickly, but I promise to be really excited when I uncover them again in 2049 A.D.

P.S. Thanks for telling me what to title my entry, Dad!
P.P.S. Don't think that gives you permission to read my blog, though, dear father of mine.

I don't normally use this space to go on a rampage against people who have wronged me or companies that have screwed me over, but I have been asked to write up a little hate note on behalf of my best friend. Mess with a friend, and I WILL CUT YOU. With words. On my blog. Here goes.

Dear GoTickets.com,

My beloved friend just returned from Iraq a few weeks ago. The poor thing has been working twelve-hour shifts every day for months on end, and all he wanted when he got back to the States was to take his dad to a Steelers game. He gave you way too much money, sang to you about pirates at night, sent you pictures of his sweet new "skillz" three-finger ring, and promised to go to New York with you. He is a good person like that. In return, you gave him the wrong tickets! Tickets for seats that were like thirty yards in the crappier direction! What the heck?

To make matters worse, you only refunded him $35 for each ticket, which left him still paying twice as much as the people next to him. And oh yeah, he was still in the wrong seats!

I hereby spit on you and hope you have to work on Thanksgiving this year. I hope your grandma forgets to buy you a birthday present, and I hope you stub your toe. I hope you get shampoo in your eye tomorrow and are too distracted to put on deodorant. I hope nobody tells you about the spinach in your teeth. Also? Those pants totally DO make you look awful because you ARE awful.

Don't ever mess with my friends again.

No love for you at all,
Rachelskirts

Dear Guy Who I Have Now Seen on Two Separate Occasions Wearing a Top Hat to School:
Let's make out under the bleachers.

Dear Classmates Who May or May Not Know This Guy:
Just kidding about the making-out-with-the-Abe-Lincoln-wannabe thing. I'll leave the dead president fantasies to Sarah Brown.