Actually – true confession mode – I wrote this headline before actually checking that it’s going to be accurate. A bit of hubris, potentially, but we’ll get to that soon enough.
Meanwhile, I have this friend who occasionally seems to want to be the next Tony Robbins – but kind of isn’t, at least not yet – but occasionally puts on airs like he/she already is (I’m going sexless to hopefully protect the innocent…and just because celibacy is cool. Right, Lenny Kravitz?) Anywho, I happened to notice when someone recently posted on their Facebook page about whether or not they were still “living the dream” and (since none of us are really – right??? Please tell me you aren’t either) I kind of felt compelled to comment, “He/she sure is!: Chazz of Wedding Crashers style! Hey ma! The meatloaf! We want it now!”
That’s it. I resisted a bitchy urge and I thought I’d brag about it…which is pretty much as lame and bitchy as if I’d made a snarky comment about whether or not someone is living the dream. Hell, maybe they are? Maybe my problem – as usual – is that my dreams are too lofty. If only my dreams involved what I already have, I’d be living the dream in spades.
In other news, my god how I love Joan Rivers. I do. I LOVE JOAN RIVERS (and I’m not afraid to admit it). Bitch Stole My Look? Love. Starlet or Streetwalker? Genius. In fact, I am unabashedly considering becoming a lesbian in the hopes of winning her over: not that she wants a lesbian (but maybe if it’s me??? I can be goddamned charming when I feel like it.) So, like I was saying, I freaking love her. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
So my dad had a new kitten show up at his place on my birthday, and I suggested he name it Birthday, but he decided to get cute and responded that he’s naming it either Snookie or The Situation and just for that, I’m calling it JWoww no matter what sex it turns out to be or how prudish or slutty or whether it gets its six nipples enhanced or whatever lifestyle that whorish little kitten chooses to live: it’s JWoww to me from here on out. Which is kind of the same as being dead to me, but that’s another story.
Serves him right for not naming it Birthday.
Anyway, I bring this up because there are these irritating ads for something called ‘The Buried Life’ that occasionally interrupt my ‘Jersey Shore’ viewings, and I guess they have some kind of bucket list despite the fact that they’re 13 years old and MTV is helping them knock it out, and the episode being advertised was “Get Married in Vegas,” and I was all, “Hey! I’ve done that! I’m all over that bucket list!” so I thought I’d compare here.
The list, unfortunately, is a hand-written photo. Sorry ’bout that.
My comments appear below.
Been there, done that: 7, 8 (mechanical), 9 (pretty much one per year), 11, 13, 16, 19, 21, 22 (hey, the mirror don’t lie!), 23, 25, 29 (every fucking day), 30, 37, 39 (in my car. Close enough.), 40 (Easter Sunday. I was like five, but it still counts), 44, 45, 49 (see: worked in corporate sales), 51, 52, 54, 46, 57 (close enough: four days at a Buddhist monastery), 58, 59 (I’m not asking anyone anywhere…unless it’s Joan Rivers), 61, 62, 63, 65, 67 (define “important), 68, 72, 74, 78, 82, 84, 85 (see #72), 86, 90, 91, 92, 93, 96, 97
Arguably (or at least I’d argue about it): 4 (probably), 5 (does my ass count?), 14 (a random black hair I pluck from time to time and as close as I’m ever going to get. Live with it.), 17 (define “huge”), 27 ($20 – and I sent some ungrateful kid in Africa $50 a month for years now, so there), 32 (arguably), 41 (I didn’t crash the wedding, but it was the first time I’d met them), 42 (in Spanish class, and I think the fact that I hosted in Spanish makes it count), 64 (Heard the album), 69 (I would never do that to a guitar), 70 (my brother did and I was aware of it: ergo, crossed off), 75 (probably if you add up all the money I’ve ever made grossed), 76 (see: Dozer), 94 (Weird Al. Don’t ask.), 98 (as in “bet on the…”?)
WIP: 1 (just wait until I get that bank robbery under my belt…), 2, 3 (maybe eventually), 6, 10 (would like to), 12 (does this have to do with football? Not interested), 15 (Me and Dr. Hook), 18, 20, 24 (could be easily accomplished, I suppose), 26 (something tells me a contempt of court charge would be in my future), 28, 31, 33 (WTF is krump?), 34 (pay for your own damn groceries!), 35 (never gonna happen), 36, 38, 43, 46, 47, 48 (who do I look like? Nancy Drew?), 50, 53, 60, 66 (what is this with the Playboy Mansion?), 71, 73, 77, 79, 80 (who?), 81, 83, 87, 88 (what????), 89, 95, 99, 100
Why three wwws?