There are so many things I don’t want to do. Ever.
Because of decency.
Because of personal tastes.
But mostly because of fear.
During a text exchange last night, I disclosed to a friend that I had no idea what to write about today. Which isn’t uncommon. I’m not particularly skilled at thinking of new post topics.
But then my friend, who was visiting her sister, started unloading a bunch of ideas her sister was throwing out. It was awesome. A flurry of creativity, the likes of which I rarely possess.
One of the suggestions: My anti-bucket list.
It made me laugh. And anytime something makes me laugh, I try to write about it.
Because what’s more important than laughing? Just people, right? And generally, those people make us laugh, too.
There are many things I hope never happen. I can’t possibly list them all in one post and I don’t intend to try.
But here’s a start.
The Anti-Bucket List, Vol. 1
Do Hard Drugs
I’m defining “hard” as something that might kill me if I do too much of it.
I remember saying this in college, and I stand by it today: Can’t you get wasted enough drinking a lot and doing six-foot bong hits?
I just want to understand.
The only thing I can come up with is that drugs like cocaine and heroin and PCP and whatever the hell else people do are just THAT awesome. Like, you do them, and then everything else that’s ever been great in your entire life ceases to be so by comparison. Like vacations, and milkshakes, and pizza, and concerts, and fast cars, and sex, and Disney World, and beaches, and fine dining, and falling in love, and Las Vegas, and good cups of coffee, and every other awesome thing on Earth.
And then your mere existence is dedicated to recreating that feeling again. The feeling which only that drug can provide.
Another thing I remember saying in college the morning after the first time I ever ate magic mushrooms: “Now I finally understand why people do hard drugs. Because THAT was amazing.”
But still. Stilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll.
Why are we doing scary illegal things that are hard to acquire and take away our ability to perform even the most basic of human functions?
Feel free to chime in, heavy drug users. Because I’m probably missing something.
But let me throw this out there:
How to Get Really Messed Up in 5 Easy Steps
Step 1: Acquire your preferred alcoholic beverage of choice.
Step 2: Acquire marijuana.
Step 3: Drink a lot of alcohol.
Step 4: Cap off your night by smoking pot.
Step 5: Get the spins so bad that you vomit, or almost-vomit, and actually look forward to being sober again.
Please don’t do hard drugs. Just don’t.
R.I.P. Philip Seymour Hoffman.
Have Gay Sex
No offense, gay folk. And I mean that.
It’s your thing. And perhaps the idea of intimacy with the opposite sex makes you feel the same level of discomfort I do while considering sex with dudes.
I just REALLY don’t want to.
Of all the things I don’t want to do, having gay sex is probably No. 1.
Like, I would totally choose shooting heroin over a man putting his penis in my butt or mouth.
But let’s not get in the business of ranking the anti-bucket list items.
That will just get messy.
Go to Prison
Prison would be so bad for me. I just don’t think I’m cut out for doing hard time with a bunch of murderers and rapists and armed robbers.
You’ve seen how poorly I deal with divorce.
Can you imagine me in prison?
Today, I’m all: Oh, darn it. I forgot to set the DVR to record O’Reilly’s interview with President Obama.
But in prison? More like this probably: Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. And just sobbing and rocking back and forth. I bet I’d have to have lots of against-my-will gay sex in prison. That, combined with the cafeteria food, the constant threat of violence and the lack of recreational weekend options has me convinced that avoiding prison time should definitely be on this list.
Wear Depend® Guards for Men
I started seeing television commercials for these things a couple days before the Super Bowl. They’re basically maxi pads for dudes. And I pray this doesn’t come off misogynistic, but: NO. Right!?!? Like, just, no.
“Protect your manhood,” the tagline says.
Sorry Depend! But I’m just not interested in your pee pads. Or the ones for “larger surges.”
I’m not sure if that’s like an erection reference, or some fire hose-like renegade surprise pee that affects certain men.
If I ever get to the point where I just start pissing myself all the time, I’m definitely going the Billy Madison route.
“If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis.” – random old lady in “Billy Madison”
Like, bull testicles. You know what I mean? Sure you do.
People eat these things. On purpose. I DON’T GET IT.
The boat left and I wasn’t on the boat.
Waiter: “Would you like to hear our specials this evening?”
Ball Eater: “Yes, please.”
Waiter: “We have a 10-ounce filet mignon served on a bed of pureed herb-roasted cauliflower, with a potato croquette and a side of chopped kale and quinoa. If you like seafood, tonight we’re featuring Alaskan King Crab legs with a butternut squash soufflé and roasted Brussels sprouts.”
Ball Eater: “Wow. That all sounds so good.”
Waiter: “Both are excellent choices, sir.”
Ball Eater: “They sound like it! But I’m just going to go with the testicles. Preferably some really swollen ones with lots of bull semen in them.”
Waiter: “No problem. Extra semen. Got it. I’ll tell the chef.”
Drink Tea at the Teahouse at the Top of Mt. Hua Shan
Because I’m entirely too afraid to get there.
I’m sure the tea’s great. But I’m going to have to pass.
I really don’t want to murder anyone. I don’t even take relatively harmless swings at people I don’t like very much.
But moral compass aside, I also don’t want to accidentally kill someone, or be forced to because of self defense or in a scary post-apocalyptic survival scenario.
I pray I never kill someone with my car, or because someone followed my “How to get really messed up” advice and ended up being the first person in history to overdose on marijuana.
I’d have a pretty hard time with that.
And if I did kill someone, there’s a better-than-average chance I might go to prison.
And then the anti-bucket list will get totally destroyed.
1. I’ll have killed someone.
2. I’ll have to do hard drugs to cope.
3. I’ll go to prison.
4. I’ll have to end my celibacy streak with against-my-will gay sex. And…
5. I’ll have to eat balls.
Only they won’t be seasoned with sea salt, black pepper and rosemary.
But they’ll probably have some extra semen.