When you're a kid you dream of what you'll be when you grow up. Maybe you'll rescue kittens from trees, adopt fourteen children from war torn countries or even nurse the sick back to life. The world is yours to conquer. Everything glitters.
Then you graduate from college and get that amazing job that's going to help you earn your first million. (And a supermodel girlfriend. I mean what good is the million without the hot girlfriend)
Then you get shown to your cubicle.
It doesn't have a window.
But you persist, you work twice as hard. Model's don't date men that work in cubicles without windows.
Finally your first review comes up and you are sure that your boss will recognize not only your killer work ethic but also your pure genius and you'll shoot to the top of the company. Heeeelloooo, Heidi Klum! (OK I realize that I need to learn a new supermodel, preferably one that is younger and not married. I'm sorry, as a straight woman I have not put a high priority on keeping in touch with who the current hot models are. I'll work on this.)
Your boss says, "Good job." Gives you a 2% raise and invites you to have cake with the rest of the office. They've given Marge a promotion. (You know Marge. She's the girl that you were pretty sure wasn't working with a full deck. Yeah, she's got a window now, Sucka.)
Then one day while you are minding your own business, someone calls you old. (For the record I did not get called old twice today...or maybe I did, but I'm not going to admit it to you.)
Then one day, You Are Old. You begin to wonder to yourself. What happened to all that time I thought I had? What have I done with my life?
Now most of you haven't reached this point in your life. You will. I know. (I'm old remember?) Listen carefully, I'm going to tell you how to handle this situation.
Make a Bucket List.
Now originally I was going to put off making my Bucket List until my doctor gave me a rough estimate on how long I could expect to live. However, being called old by a 17 year old has made me realize that I need to take turning 30 more seriously. Honestly, I'm practically staring death down here.
As I touched on in my last post, I'd like to purchase my own boy band. Not a lame one like Menudo, but a really hot one like...like...oh, forget the boy band. I'm going to purchase a sports team.(to ensure purchase of hot men) Preferably a football or baseball team. I would also settle for a solid tetherball team. (hello, the economy is in the crapper. A girl's got to watch her budget.)
So Item numero uno: Procure talented group of hot men.
Since I don't like to make idle promises, I'm going to learn the name of a supermodel under the age of 30 (unmarried of course). Then I'm going to feed her a sandwich. Or two. Actually I'm going to keep feeding her until I can't count her ribs anymore.
Item number two: Serve a meal to the hungry.
I stumbled across a blog (I can't for the life of me remember which one anymore) in which the writer was super-excited that the next Cosmo had Lady Gaga on the cover. Now I like Lady Gaga but I would never buy a magazine because she was on the cover. I would however, buy one that educated me on "50 More Things to do Butt Naked" (Cosmo, you know just how to reel me in) It's a life changing article. I would have never thought to call my cable company, play scrabble or workout naked. I'm going to work my way through this list.
Item number three: Increase the number of fat people doing things that shouldn't be done naked, naked.
As we all know when it comes to blogging, the more the merrier. There is not a single blogger out there that doesn't get excited about comments and new commenters. On this I am the status quo. I love comments. If you are a regular commenter on my blog I love you and could probably be convinced to commit a crime for you. So if you are currently looking for someone to smuggle drugs across the Canadian border and follow my blog then I'm your girl. Email me.
The item after the last one: Reach 59 followers on my blog.
I would like to reach the pinnacle of Mt Everest. I'm not a fool. (shut-up, you.) I know that even with the mountain climbing experience and proper equipment (neither of which I have) I stand a good chance of not making it back alive. I read John Krakauer's Into Thin Air. I know the best case scenario for me is to loose a few toes and the worst case is that I would be left for dead. Although, technically, if I make it to the top before I die then I've accomplished my goal. Since I'm more likely to die from this goal then say, doing a slip and slide naked, (at least one would hope) I'm going to put it last on my list.
On second thought, that death sounds really cold, lonely and miserable.
Last item: Move to Lake Tahoe to die.