Decade Lists: Enough, Already

I can't take much more of this... How in the world is it possible that the 00s are suddenly over (was that not the worst descriptor of a decade, or what)? No, wait, it just can't end this way.

For meese, it started with such promise... career in overdrive, as I became Billboard's youth pop champion (thank you Hanson, Britney, 'N Sync, Christina, 98 Degrees, Backstreet Boys, Jessica Simpson)... On the personal front, I found the [second] great love of my life. Whoo-hoo, going strong! Then, again by default (cause everyone else was too damn cool; ha, not me, not never, I tell ya), I garnered Celine Dion as my very own artist at Billboard—and we rode the crest together, with one cover story after another. Yeah, go millennium!

I bought my first apartment in New York City at the beginning of the decade and renovated the kitchen, second bedroom, bathroom... on a roll... my hair is gray, but still on top of my head and curly, even... roar, cool cats!! (We're up to double exclamation marks now. Feel the power.)

Mid-00s… coasting, if not exactly conquering anew... I transitioned from a dominant role at Billboard to Radio & Records, where R&R's executive editor informed the ME and myself that we are "not to edit the writers" to traditional journalistic standards. On a strikingly similar note, in my decade-long role as Billboard's Singles Review Editor, a mandate came down from on high that "negative reviews" are no longer permitted in the magazine, for fear of, uh, upsetting advertisers. I made it work, by only reviewing songs of merit, but boy, I missed the venomous swipes against popular artists that delivered below expectation—those that established whatever reputation I had for a way with words.

I pushed on, I did. I also found a little more comfort in gin. Blame me? But to confess, just twixt you and me, 2007 was not my proudest year. In 2008, just as I was ready to clean up, my best friend, my soul, since the 8th grade, dropped dead. In January. Talk about a major mind fuck. So I added food to the booze. And dyed my hair platinum blonde (truly unrelated; it was a Hawaii thing, too much to get into, really). God, make it all go away.

But no, apparently the decade had begun a downward spiral that I didn’t quite recognize… until its peak, in late February 2009, when I got axed at the job after 14 years. You know that story, right? If not, just scroll down a bit... and a bit more... and more...

And so here we are… at the end of the decade… and this is how I have to wrap it? Fuck, well, isn’t that just like drowning kittens? Happy new year. I sure hope it’s the promise of a new day (boy, I love quoting Paula Abdul. If that doesn’t sum it all up…).

But wait! There's a positive note! My man is still by my side! We still have our home! I'm working on two book projects that will hopefully come to fruition in 2010! Exclamation marks abound! I have hope that... a new day has come. God, we get to end—or is it a beginning—with a Celine title. That's got to be a good sign.