Wednesday, November 30, 2011


I’m no Pollyanna.

Which is why I think that if I hear the words “Bucket List” one more time in casual conversation, read it online, or find it referenced in any context whatsoever, I think the part of my brain which houses tolerance may spark and fizzle out quietly yet furiously, like a blown fuse or when you use an old hair dryer in a super-steamy bathroom.  Trust me.  It sparks and fizzles and dies, and gives you a little jolt of electricity just to be mean.

I won’t hurl things, or punch anyone, or try to launch myself off a bridge, but these words are so overused (and are a little morbid, I mean, doesn’t this term indicate the stuff you want to do before you die?) that each time I hear them, I wilt a little bit.  I don’t care what you want to do before you die.  You know what I want to do before I die?  I want to LIVE. 

Also, the word “absolutely.”  How many conversations have I had where someone uses the word “absolutely” as a response to anything?  “The weather is so nice today.”  “Absolutely.”  “I have to go home and clean my house.” “Absolutely, me too.”  “Last night I forgot to lift the toilet seat when I peed and it got all over the floor.”  “Absolutely.  What a mess.”  Why are you agreeing with me completely, in every context?   Are you a stalker?  You don’t know me.  It’s maddening.

“That’s good stuff” makes me cry a little inside.  Unless you’re talking about a great bottle of wine, or a revolutionary glue that adheres anything together FOREVER, or if you do so many drugs that you notice the difference between good ones and bad ones, “that’s good stuff” is such a general description that you might as well not say anything at all.  “My kid took his first steps today.  That’s good stuff.”  Well, I guess so.  Pass me the salt for the bland conversation you’re serving.  Your kid’s walking.  Shouldn’t you be documenting this moment in a scrapbook or getting today’s date tattooed somewhere?

“Text me.”  You're making things way too hard.  Howzabout I TELL YOU?  We’re standing right here.  Are you saying that whatever I have to say is meaningless unless you’re looking at it on your phone?  Which, by the way, isn’t going to give you the meaning of life, so stop staring at it, because I’m starting to get a little worried about what you’re putting your faith in.

“Git ‘er done.”  No.  What does that even mean?  It’s almost encouraging, but it isn’t.

“I’m gonna get my drink on.”  Last time I got my drink on, my dry cleaning bill was outrageous.  When someone says this, I imagine them changing their clothes into a drinking costume of dirty jeans and a sweater.  That smells of vomit.

Humph.  Pollyanna can suck it. 

Suck it.  There's another one.  What are we sucking, exactly?


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