Brian Matuszak column: Hoarders have nothing on Brian

So I have a confession to make. Well, actually, I have two confessions to make, but I’m not ready to talk about my binge-watching “Cake Boss” Netflix addiction yet, so let’s stick with one.
Are you ready? Cuz it’s a doozy. I don’t know that you’ll be able to look at me in quite the same way again (with your “come hither” stare and my “when did you get that lisp?” gaze right back atcha). Here we go ... OK, I can do this ... deep breath ... everything’s gonna be fine ... they’ll still love me and respect me and idolize me ... according to Mom ... here it is ... my terrifying, disgusting, soul-revolting confession to each and every one of you:
My name is Brian and I’m a receipt-aholic.
Whew! That wasn’t so bad - Hey, where’d everybody go? MO-O-O-M! You said they’d stick around!!!
Well, for those of you still with me and not completely horrified by my scandalous revelation, let me tell you a little more about it. It started back in high school when I was finally able to trick someone into hanging out with me. Girls, boys, janitorial staff ... all were required to give me a receipt so I could prove that they knew exactly what they were doing when they checked YES in the Spending Time With Brian box. This wasn’t an “allergy prescription gone awry” or “illicit Vegas betting” scenario taking place; I could vouch that being in my presence was something these folks could tolerate for a few hours. Since then, I’ve kept every scrap that can prove I purchased something, be it friendship, a car, vats of lotion, whatever. Some might call it “creepy.” I prefer to think of it as “not creepy.”
My main issue is that I keep these paper pieces around for a period of time that’s just short of the length of the Cretaceous Era. I still have shoe boxes in my basement that are filled with receipts for the shoes that came in those shoe boxes. I can go back and document every single zit medicine, diaper and strained peas purchase I’ve ever made, which actually wouldn’t be too tough because I just bought that stuff last Tuesday, but that’s not the point! The point is, I have a problem! We’re drowning in invoice tidal waves in the basement! My attic is known as the peak of Bill of Sale Mountain! I named the two new kitties “Proof” and “Purchase!” I HAVE A PROBLEM!!
Or do I?
As I look back over these decades of sales tickets, something magical emerges. A crumpled hotel receipt from our family Wisconsin Dells vacation sparks memories of past summers spent there with Sue’s parents, both of whom have physically left us but are immortal in our warm remembrances. A carefully folded sales slip for Kaylee’s first speech outfit floods me with thoughts of her high school achievements, including ribbons, medals and qualifying for this year’s state speech tournament. And here, Sue’s receipt for my birthday present from a few years back of an immense coffee table book commemorating the 30th anniversary of “The Empire Strikes Back” ... This tiny, faded shred contains the power to knock me to my knees and thank the heavens (again) that the perfect wife, friend and partner wandered into my path years ago and miraculously agreed to stay and walk it with me.
These little notes aren’t just fragments of proof for goods received. They are the pages that construct the story of a life well-lived. Gentle reminders of good fortune, of countless blessings ...
And that coffee table books are wa-a-a-a-y too expensive.

Brian Matuszak is the founder of Rubber Chicken Theater and invites you to follow him and his theater company on Twitter at twitter.com/rchickentheater, like them on Facebook at Rubber Chicken Theater, and visit their website at www.RubberChickenTheater.com . In addition to receipts, he has saved every letter he’s ever received from loyal readers, except the super-freaky ones. On a completely unrelated note, does anyone have a mailing address for Don Ness?