Somebody else's humiliation never felt so much like catharsis. At this event, which happens more or less monthly at the Make-Out Room, willing subjects climb up on stage with their old diaries, love letters, and teenaged attempts at poetry clutched in their clammy fists. Before an eager, voyeuristic crowd, the readers rewind history and let their younger selves spill their guts — they profess undying love for that curly-haired guy in math class, tell of horribly fumbled sex acts, and divulge all the other disasters, schemes, and ardent wishes that are part of growing up. It's incredibly brave on their part, and surprisingly fun for everyone. The audience laughs uproariously at each reader's stupidity, of course, but in a kindly and supportive way — as if to say, yes, we were all that idiotic and naive once. As the reader's cheeks flame red, the audience members can feel their own embarrassment being burned in the communal fire — which had better be pretty damn hot to purge memories of the eighth grade.