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Sign up Now for Your Trip to Nantucket!

My 365th post is just around the corner, and I am starting to analyze how much I’ve accomplished.  I don’t mind admitting that I’m a bit disappointed.  I haven’t achieved one single item on my bucket list in the last year.  I have not:

  • gotten one billion subscribers
  • gotten invited to spend a week with the writers of The Daily Show
  • gotten a million dollar advance on my book
  • lost 5 pounds

In fact, I’ve gained 10 pounds, which is somewhat distressing.

It’s not for lack of effort, I must point out.  I mean, I did a three day pledge drive – which resulted in the least number of new subscribers daily that I’ve ever received.  I mention Jon Stewart every moment I can, barely avoiding being labeled a stalker.  And I think I would have gotten the million dollar advance if The Bloggess had not beaten me to a publishing contract by a couple of years.

I can’t really explain the 10 pounds, but I’m just going to blame it on my “inefficient colon”.  Obviously, everything I eat is being immediately converted to fat instead of, uh, doing what it’s supposed to do.

Now, I always tell my students that the most important part of achieving their dreams is perseverance, so I would be a hypocrite if I gave up on everything now.  That is what normal, easily discouraged people, would do.  So, I am going to stick to my mantra, which is, “Do what you want to do or prove that it can’t be done by killing everyone in your way yourself trying to do it.”  You are welcome to borrow that quote if you like.

Plus, it’s a bucket list.  Which, I am assuming means that I have until the point that I kick the bucket to finish it up.  I have to check the official rules of bucket lists, but I think that, if you start going in the opposite direction of the items on your list, that means you hold off death a bit longer.  But, you can’t make that your goal, because then you have really changed your bucket list, and you will just speed things up.

It’s complicated.

I do feel like it is time to revise my bucket list, though, so here is the new, improved list:

  • get 2 billion subscribers who are not relatives, but could conceivably be bribed to type their email address into the little box on my right margin (oops, just realized it’s in my left margin – that explains a lot)
  • spend 2 weeks with the writers of The Daily Show.  In their writing room.  Contributing to their writing.  (I thought I should clarify this, because my last goal was a bit too vague, and could have been misconstrued.)
  • write the book for which I will get my million dollar contract
  • lose 1 pound

I know.  That last one is a bit unrealistic.  But I’m thinking of removing the inefficient colon, by force, if necessary, and surely it weighs at least a pound.

Oh, and I’m not calling it a bucket list anymore.  There is pretty much not one thing that I find motivating about buckets, much less kicking the bucket.  So, it is now my Nantucket List.  As soon as I get it all done, I will give myself a relaxing trip to Nantucket.

And, what the heck, my heart is just as big as Oprah’s, I’ll take my 2 billion subscribers with me.

(P.S.  For the BEST Bucket List EVER, click here.  (Thanks, Guapolawesomest, for this reference.  I’ll let you come to Nantucket, too.  Unless that’s where you live.  In which case, why haven’t you invited me, yet?)

A bucket from Nantucket. I kid you not.                              Photo Credit:

You Don’t Know Who You’re Dealing With

Just put my face in there. Oh, right. You don't know what I look like.

This is my 84th post, and I still have not been invited to spend a week with the writers of The Daily Show or The Colbert Report.  I think I’ve figured out the problem, though.  I haven’t really been hitting the politics too hard on this blog.  Partly because I don’t want to offend any of my readers.  And partly because I don’t really know anything.  But I’m going to take a risk today, and pretend that really doesn’t matter.

All of the bipartisan bickering lately (for the last 8 years, interestingly enough – since that is how old my daughter is) is driving me crazy.  So I would like to propose a new solution.  This may involve a complete overhaul of one of the Schoolhouse Rock Videos, but I’m pretty sure you will agree that it’s worth it.

How a Bill Becomes a Law the Whatimeant2say Way:

  1. Use a random name generator, such as the Secret Agent or Lady Gaga ones, to give all of the politicians code names.  Only the President will have a complete list, and it will be kept in the White House in a safe that requires two people to open it at the same time.  I would suggest that the keys be given to Conan O’Brien and Jay Leno, as they would cooperate with each other only under the direst of circumstances.
  2. Politicians will consult the Siri goddess on their iPhones, and then submit any proposals for law changes to a shared Google Doc, using their newly selected random names as their Gmail addresses.  Their political parties will not be revealed.
  3. An objective citizen, such as Ryan Seacrest, will categorize the possible laws and blog about them anonymously, grouping similar but opposing views in the same posts – still without identifying the sponsoring political parties.
  4. Citizens and non-citizens will be invited to read and comment.  Vile words and incomprehensible texting abbreviations will be thrown out by the moderator (Seacrest again).  WTF will be allowed, as it is the only way to express complete astonishment at the idiocy of the Common Man.
  5. After an appropriate length of time for discussion on each topic, a survey from PollDaddy will be placed on the blog.
  6. Any politician who leaks their code name or a law they proposed will have to appear on a reality show produced by Mark Burnet and their proposal will immediately be disqualified and sold on eBay.
  7. The proposal with the most votes on Poll Daddy (with which no political party has been affiliated) will become a law.
  8. Simon Cowell (after he applies for, pays a lot of money for,  and is granted U.S. citizenship) will be the tie-breaker judge.
  9. Charlie Sheen will announce the “winner” late at night on his webcam, and Ashton Kutcher will tweet it to everyone to make sure the maximum number of people know what the new law is.
  10. There is no number 10, but stopping at number nine looked wrong for some reason.

I know.  I should run for President.

It’s Gonna Get Worse Before It Gets Bad Again

It goes without saying that I have a case of writing constipation.  Here are the small bits of ideas that I’ve been able to eke out over the past week (and yes, I am aware of the disgusting nature of the metaphor) – none of which would actually make an entire post worth reading.  Like a two-year-old proud of her great Triumphs of the Toilet, I thought I would give you a peek before I flush ‘em.

What does this quote mean from Eli Manning regarding Brandon Stokely’s game performance? “He had a small package, I’ll tell ya, his package got a lot bigger in the middle of the game.”

Is there a month that is not part of football season/pre-season/post-season/training season?

When Mrs. P.I.B. passes gas, she scares herself, leaps up, and whirls around to find out what just attacked her rear.

And on the other end: I have contemplated, more than once, whether I should try putting a Breathe Right strip on Wonderbutt’s nose to open his airways?

In Switzerland, there is a law that you cannot own only one of any particular pet.  So, there is a woman, interviewed on NPR, who rents out guinea pigs to owners who have had one die but don’t want to buy another one.

Why is it that, by the time of year when it’s cool enough to walk the dogs at night, it’s too dark to walk the dogs at night?

There is a tag on the tags page that says “Scott Lord Sherlock Holmes.”  It leads to nowhere.  Even more disturbing are the results you get when you Google said topic.  And even more disturbing is that I wasted my time Googling said topic.

I think Sherlock Holmes was a big old crock.  His supposed “leaps of logic” were ginormous hurdles over massive chasms to conclusions that are piles of steaming crap any C.S.I. agent would sniff a mile away, bag as evidence. throw in their multimillion dollar mega-analyzing machine, and declare devoid of any evidence acceptable in a T.V. court of law.

If I lose at the iPad Family Feud game, does that mean that I am not smart, or that I just come up with more creative answers than the common 100 people surveyed?

If Dimples beats me at Family Feud, does that mean that I’m not smarter than a fourth grader, or that the 100 people surveyed were 4th graders?

One of my dreams is to spend a week in the same room as the writers for The Daily Show and/or The Colbert Report, and maybe even contribute a line or two.

Will one of the days I do a less than stellar post, like today (o.k., most days), also be the day that a potential editor (or staff member of The Daily Show and/or Colbert Report) chances upon my blog – and breaks her wrist because she can’t click on the back button fast enough?

Have you ever noticed that when people say that it goes without saying that they then say what didn’t need to be said?

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