Last night I came up with a great idea.
After I cleaned up the blender and all the Wendy’s garbage and finished vomiting, I then came up with an even GREATER idea.
I call it the Fuck-It List. This is like a bucket list, but instead of stuff you want to do before you die, it’s stuff you absolutely DON’T want to do before you die.
Now, there are some clarifications to be made here for what qualifies.
For example, eating a log of shit doesn’t qualify for the Fuck-It list. Because duh. You don’t have to put everything you wanna skip on the list. Just those things that other people want to do and you really don’t.
Or, for example, let’s say skydiving. Skydiving isn’t something I really want to to, but if someone was like, “Hey, I wanna skydive, and I paid for both of us, wanna go?” I’d probably go. It’s not something I’d do on my own, but I’d follow along.
However, something on the list, if someone said, “You’ve got nothing to do today, I paid for this, wanna go?” I’d still say no. Because, eh.
My Fuck-It List so far, in no particular order.
Doing That Thing Where You Hire a Photographer And Take Photos By Some Train Tracks Or By An Old Barn Or In Some Weeds
I just, that doesn’t sound fun to me. And I don’t really like taking pictures. The only way I could see getting involved in that would be to do it, make the faces that expressed how I was feeling about the whole thing at the moment, and then put up those pics to demonstrate why it’s a bad idea for me to stand around dilapidated structures for pictures.
Opera
Yeah, no thanks. I get bored listening to decent bands that play music I kinda like.
Wine and Painting Class
My ability in the visual arts is just depressing. Also, why do they always paint like a landscape or a sky or something? Why isn’t it ever, I don’t know, Mega Man stuff? And I’ve been on record with my opinion that wine is vile, vile poison. I got a better idea. How about we drink bourbon and buy art online once we’re really drunk? It’ll be like a fun surprise to see what shows up in the mail.
Dancing Lessons
Of any kind. No thanks. I already know how to dance. How you dance is get drunk enough that you don’t care about embarrassing yourself, flail around for a couple hours, and wake up hungover and stuck between wishing someone would film you dancing so you could see and hoping no one ever will film you so that your dancing is just this ephemeral, possibly-nonexistant thing.
Political Rally
This might say more about me than anything, and I accept that, but most times, when I’ve gone to experience something I really like or enjoy or believe in, I’m not really happy when I look around and see the other people who feel the same way. “What? I’m aligned with these people? Goddamnit.” It’s an oddly uninspiring experience to hang out with people who feel the same way I do about something, and politics is probably the king of those things.