Feministe posted their variation of a bucket list, "The Fuck It List", which originated from a popular thread on Twitter, and I thought, Brilliant!. I immediately took a picture of my butt to head up list of things that I've contemplated making into life goals at one point or another but have resisted doing so, because who wants to torture themselves with unrealistic expectations, aside from a large portion of the human race, that is? Not I.
Schmutzie's Fuck It List
- Train my cats to use the toilet. It would drive me nuts if they didn't flush.
- Learn to love my short torso. It's my body. It will be what it is. So what if I'm not crazy about short torsos.
- Become a good seamstress. Ever since I sewed a couple of stitches through my finger while sewing clothing for handpuppets, I am wary of sewing machines.
- Find a sport I enjoy watching. I just don't understand the enjoyment in watching a bunch of people run around in an ordered fashion to achieve a goal that doesn't do anything for anybody.
- Get a full wrist-to-shoulder tattoo on my arm. I would feel compelled to shave that arm, and, let's face it, I only get around to shaving my legs twice a year.
- Become an Olympic gymnast. Like that was ever going to happen. I quit gymnastics when I was five or six.
- Convert to Judaism. Firstly, I don't have a religion from which to convert to another, and, secondly, faith is likely a requirement for conversion, something of which I am completely bereft as far as religion is concerned.
- Shoot a gun. Those things freak me the hell out. I was even at a gun range once, but I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger.
- Find a hat that looks good on me. Not only do I look ridiculous in hats, but I also don't like them. I'd spend the whole time I was wearing it wishing that I wasn't.
- Go vegetarian or vegan. Bacon is a deal-breaker.
- Become a jazz flautist. I have neighbours.
- Live in a log cabin in the woods. It sounds good, but I think I'd become one of those people who goes feral and starts collecting trespassers in an old well out back.
- Enjoy camping in a tent. I love the woods, I like nature hikes, I like building and tending a campfire, but I also like to go to bed in a cabin. Tents are for freaks.
- Stop drinking coffee. I know it's not good for me to drink a pot-and-a-half of the stuff a day, but I just don't care.
- Have my boobs removed. As much as I dislike the amount of physical real estate they occupy, a flat chest would only serve to highlight my belly. I'd look like a butternut squash.
- Read Proust. I'd like to know how many people on the planet have actually made it through the entirety of Swann's Way.
- Spend a year travelling around and living in a Boler camper. There needs to be money for that sort of thing, and I'm afraid of highway travel, but wouldn't it be grand?
- Stalk David Bowie. It strikes me as a costly endeavour, plus, I don't want to get arrested for smelling his trash cans.
- Hire a laundry service. This sounds divine, but strangers would be able to see my hole-riddled underwear and tired brassieres. I would end up spending a fortune on underthings.
- Write the great American novel. I can't. I'm a Canadian. It took me thirty-six years to put those two things together. Sheesh.