It doesn't matter HOW long it's been. You fucked with someone's life for a year, got kicked out of the house (would've been sooner if it weren't for the lease), and told to fuck off and die. As if that wasn't bad enough, I kept getting these phone calls looking for you over the years.

It wasn't just the party you threw just before you left that trashed the house. The party where you "invited 30 to 50 of your best friends." You have more best friends? Why not invite them all!?! Come to find out you're handing out cards to total fucking strangers with my address on it! Come to the wild party! I was afraid it would get ugly, so I stuck around. I asked some dude who's party is this and he had no clue. I finally can't take it anymore, so I decide to walk into town. As I leave the house, I see Lisa's bedroom light go on. (Lisa was out of town for the weekend.) WTF?! You're bringing a woman into Lisa's bed?! GTFO!! I call 911 on my own house and then go get a beer. I come back and there are cops and fire trucks and ambulances all over the place! 3rd time they were called, no less. There was a fight. Inside. A couple of your 'best friends' passed out. The kitchen and the yard are trashed. It's a gd good thing I didn't see you that night after I came back! I had to take about a 1/2 hour walk to cool down b/c I swear if I had seen you before I left to cool off, I would've fucking KILLED you that night! You move out a week or so later, and never came back to clean the kitchen, which you totally abused for a year, or your bedroom for that matter. I wait for you for a week to come back and clean, didn't happen. Then you have the balls to complain when I deduct itemized cleaning charges, including invoices from the cleaning company, from your deposit? FY.

That's how you left, and that's how I remembered you. You never apologized.

Some time later, the Pacific Sun does a piece on some rehab place in SGV and mentions your name as one of their success stories. WTF?! JG?!! No fucking way. That miserable SOB was a total stoner and drinker the whole fucking year. I didn't mind the piano scales 6 hrs a day, but when you were stoned, you would start vocalizing (out of key) to the scales. We actually got a lot of mileage (jokes) out of the vocalizing. I can't believe you led that rehab place to believe you were clean and sober.

If I had pissed someone off that much, and left on such bad terms, I mean *really* bad, I could not ever go up to that person and say hi. You should've just not said anything at all when you saw me. But you did. When I saw you approach me (you were only a couple of feet away when first I spotted you), I was stunned. You're first clue should've been when immediately I said, "Do I know you?" But you just kept on sticking a blade in that old scar. The only thing I could think of was how much of an asshole you were back then. I have absolutely no good memories of you, now, or then. Why the fuck would I want to talk to you, or see you, or even be reminded of you in any way, shape, or form? I had completely forgotten about you. Now I have to do it all over again.

Asshole.