regret what i've done (regret you) i couldn't go on...
From time to time, you'll hear someone talk about having a bucket list, a checklist of daring or exciting things they hope to do before it's their time to kick said bucket. I don't have one of those. Oh, sure, I, too, would like to one day don a jaunty beret and see Paris at night from atop the Eiffel Tower while also eating a baguette and French kissing a Parisian god, but I don't need to jot that down on a Post-it and hope it might happen. Honestly, years of scratching notes as a journalist has murdered my penmanship, so if I did write that goal down somewhere and then came across it years later, I'd think it was actually a grocery list and I'd wonder why I thought I wanted to buy parsnips. "Try parsnips" has a better shot of coming to fruition on any bucket list I'd create before a trip to Paris. I ate - and loved - brussel sprouts for the first time this year, so to say I'm capable of dreaming big is obviously an understatement!
I, do, however, keep two other type of lists, and while they aren't exactly bucket lists, I do refer to them using words that rhyme with 'bucket' and 'list.' Perhaps you can guess what I call them.
Take your time.
Do I really have to spell them out for you using the two letters and two symbols I'm going to because I want you to think I'd never actually deign to spell let alone say this word?
They are my F&$k It! and my F&$k That! lists.
(I know I said I used a word that rhymes with 'list,' too, but I can only think of one word right now that does and that word is 'piss,' or 'p&$s,' if you will, and I care not to put those two words together and then send them out into the ether, so in the interest of purity, I choose to stick with 'list.' Please accept my apologies.)
Confess. You have these sort of lists, too.
On my F&$k It! list, I have things like 'learn to belly dance,' 'go ahead and take a nap,' and 'start playing Angry Birds.' Nothing earth shattering, and truly nothing I'm going to excel at, as evidenced by how long I've been stuck on level 5 of Angry Birds, thank you very much. I am getting better at naps; however, closing my eyes for a few minutes a 3 pm and not opening them again until after 7 perhaps means I should change this entry to 'go to bed earlier,' but life's a marathon, not a race, am I right?
On my F&$k That! list, I've listed things like 'never climb anything that can be described as 'a mountain',' 'avoid falling on purpose out of an open plane door,' ''do not (again) style your hair in a manner that could confuse people into thinking you're a male,' refrain from killing your spouse,' 'never sing karaoke while drunk and/or sober,' 'eat all things from the sea in a fashion best described as 'cooked,'' and, most importantly, 'don't feel it necessary to attend any additional high school reunions.'
Well, guess what I did last week to screw this list up? No, I'm not writing this from a jail cell, so all's well on the 'refrain from killing your spouse' entry (for now)(oh, hahahahahahaha! ha.)
I f&$kin' went to my 25th high school reunion!!! It deserves two additional exclamation marks because I can't believe I went!!! I swore after my 10th I'd never go to another, and have spent the last 9 months avoiding any and all mention of the latest as plans were hatched and then swirled around my classmates on Facebook like so much cheap vodka in a red plastic cup (which, btw, is pretty much how the event went).
I blame Facebook for making me go. While Mark Zuckerberg was busy being a brainy two year old, I was grabbing my high school diploma, sneering "See you later, suckas," as I stormed out the building doors, and never planned to look back...at least after my 10 year reunion. But that dang Zuckerberg grew up, invented Facebook, and suddenly, every classmate who never spoke is sending me friend requests and commenting all over my Facebook page, telling me how awesome and funny I am. I was funny in high school, too, but nope, I didn't know about Senior Skip Day until coming across your photos from it on Facebook, Prom Queen, so I wasn't there to regale you with my sarcastic banter and witty bon mots. Sorry!
It was Facebook that uncovered me. "Where are you?!" "Come up here!" "We want to see you!!!" "UR SEW FNNNEEE!!!" Yes, the first night of our reunion was at a bar, and by the time I'd received that final message, it had been going on for about three hours, so I hope the spelling was so poor because of that rather than a testament to our education. Because I live the closest of any of my classmates to the reunion site - as in across the damn street - I couldn't go underground. I went, and I drank with my classmates for the very first time, which resulted in blowing another entry on my F&$k That! list.
I f&$kin' sang karaoke!! "Like a Virgin," of course, because I was quite possibly the only virgin in our graduating class...which was a little fact I used to introduce my selection. ME SEW FNNNEEE!!! Ah, like so much cheap vodka swirling around in a red plastic cup, indeed. Seriously, stop me if I bump into you somewhere and pull out maps and introduce you to my Sherpa, Mike, because I do not want to climb any damn mountains!!
By the time I ended the evening, all I could think was "F&$k me!" Screw the F&$k It! and F&$k That! lists. I'm thinking of tossing them out and referring to my new life plan as my Dammit! list I've already got a new entry for it. Last weekend, I cut my hair super, super short. I look like this now. So much for not looking like a dude.