In The Event This Is My Last Birthday

Gah. Another year older. I’m about to turn 44, one year shy of what should be my official mid-life point, complete with crises. However given my lifestyle and general pessimistic outlook, I would hazard to guess that my life expectancy met it’s midpoint sometime in the last decade. And yet I prepare to celebrate… no lament… no recognize another birthday.

Today someone brought up the question of what’s on my “bucket list.” Surely, at my age, they assumed I would have one. Oddly enough, I do not. I mean, sure there are things that I’d like to do, but I’ve never really thought about the things that I would like to make sure I do before I die. I’ve travelled a fair amount in my life, and I’d love to do more. But is there anywhere I can’t go to the great beyond without having visited? Hmmmm. Is there any great feat that I will need to accomplish before I’m given the guided tour of my gated community in hell? Ummmm. So, it would appear that this is something I need to which I need to give some thought.

To get some inspiration I went and looked up other people’s bucket lists. I took a tour of a few of the lists at the Reaper List website. Frankly, it served only to depress me. I’ve done a good number of the things on these people’s lists, which makes me think that end of the line is closer than I originally thought. Like objects in a mirror, my demise may be closer than it appears. I clicked the “Feeling Lucky” button at Bucketlist and felt the buzz of paranoia take hold.

Get a tattoo? Done.
Sign an autograph? Done.
See the Grand Canyon? Done.
Visit the French Riviera? Done.
Skydive? Done.
Bungee jump? Fuck no.
Give flowers to strangers? Why?
Give birth and become a mother? Oh hell no.
Make a pie from scratch? Really? This is something you need to do before you die? Really?

I guess the lists are a “to each his own” kind of thing. There are things I’ve done, that I would like to do again, or do differently. Like going on safari in Africa. I’ve done it, so I don’t need to do it before I die, but I’d love to do it again and do it differently. So, what haven’t I done, that I really need to do or I won’t rest in my grave? Hmmm…. Well, here’s a few ideas.

Slap Denise Velkabitch across the face for transgressions committed in the 4th grade.

Learn to speak Pig Latin with a German accent.

Exploit one of George Clooney’s personal weaknesses. Don’t care which.

Eat my body weight in Wheat Thins and Easy Cheese.

Have my nude likeness cast in chocolate.

Weigh what is says I do on my drivers’ license.

Learn to say “Back the fuck up and get out of my face bitch!” in 27 languages.

Have sex at zero gravity.

Form a religion and have followers who will relinquish all of their personal assets to my ministry.

Be involved in a political scandal.

Go on a 3 day bender, wake up in jail, and not remember how I got there.

Pet Elvis Costello in an inappropriate manner.

Never be mistaken for someone who cares.

There. How does that sound? Alas, now I have so much to do and so little time left to accomplish it!