Wednesday, 20 April 2016

Bucket List...

So, this is the year that I hit the big 4-0. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Largely nothing really. I don't quite get the hysteria that the general populace attaches to aging. I mean, there's eff-all we can do about it, so why sweat it? Besides, the last twenty years of cleansing, toning, mosturising seem to have worked: I got asked for ID when attempting to buy booze at the weekend. Although as I said at the time, it was probably my infantile Zippy (of Rainbow infamy) wallet that made the miserable woman on the till ask for it. It was perhaps an act of passive aggression rather than a genuine attempt to stay within the law. But still, I'm 39 and constantly look tired, so a win is a win. I produced my driving licence as though it was a winning lottery ticket and did all I could do to repress bursting into song. Like Aga-Do.

There are things that make me pause for thought as forty-ness seeks to seduce me into her pre-menopausal club. Like the fact that there are social milestones that I'm yet to achieve. I'm not married (not arsed, actually - I think it's perhaps tempting fate), I'm not on the property ladder (ditto - I live in London and can't really spare the kidney that I'll need to sell to gather a deposit) and I don't have children. I probably go out too much and generally act as though I'm still in my twenties. But that's okay. I looked like a minor at the weekend, so there we go. Besides, if Madonna can do it, then so can I.

I was minding my own business the other day when my phone beeped in my pocket. It turns out that I had a Facebook notification, which was all to do with bucket lists. It implored me to play along, otherwise I would incur some terrible twist of fate. Puh. So seeing as though I am in the midst of contemplating my life's accomplishments (or lack thereof) I thought I'd play along here - mainly to avoid any unspeakable consequences. Like my knob dropping off. Or looking my age.

So, sitting comfortably? Oh good.

Have you ever...

Gone on a blind date? Erm yes. It was an unmitigated disaster. He had all the charm and allure of a four day old, sweaty cheese sandwich and he voted Tory. Fortunately I got terrible diarrhoea halfway through. I didn't really, but that's what I told him as I penguin-walked away and disappeared for a drink in a pub around the corner. A slightly embarrassing encounter ensued later when he walked in the same pub and confronted me. I told him that I thought drinking more alcohol might kill the bugs in my stomach. I don't think he was convinced, mind.

Watched someone give birth? You know how they say that giving birth is a miracle? They (whoever they are) don't tell you it's quite a grim miracle. Rewind to school and I call - with horror - the sex education video where we were forced to watch a baby enter the world via it's mother's unshaven, over-stretched and rather torn unmentionables. I mean, you saw the front-bum actually split. It was like a Paul Daniels trick gone terribly wrong. I gasped and then I screamed a bit. The teacher then went on to tell us that when she had her own litter, she required nine stitches. She said this while laughing as 30 children tried desperately not to look at her groin. Not only did the baby make a terrible mess of its mam, but it came out looking like a brilliant-white alien covered in bloody snot. Some fucking miracle. But still, I'm sure it was all lovely once they gave it a bath and put the mother in an ice bath with a gin and tonic and all that.

Watched someone die? I once put my cat down. When it actually died, it flashed its eyes wide open and jerked its limbs about. Despite feeling like a feline-murderer, I like to think it Vogued into cat heaven. Can I get an Amen?

Visited Canada? No. I should though. I think I'd like it.

Visited Hawaii? Again, negative. I'm not a fan of Hawaiian pizza, if that means anything, which it probably doesn't. Sticking fruit and meat together just doesn't seem right. Like the Krankies.

Visited Europe? Yup. All over. Strangely, I've blocked toilets in Spain, Holland, France and the Czech Republic. Over wiping must be a British trait.

Visited Las Vegas? No. I have been to Skeg-Vegas though. I'm sure they're pretty similar.

Flown in a helicopter? Again, no. I'm all about Easy Jet and orange tunics.

Served on a jury? No. I'm far too corrupt for that kind of carry on. I feel sorry for people too easily. I'd be forgiving mass murderers on account of the fact that they had a lazy eye or had tenuous links to Nottingham, the motherland.

Cried yourself to sleep? Once. After watching Forrest Gump, the greatest film of ALL TIME. Jenny should not have died. She should have married Forrest and had more babies. By Caesarean Section.

Sang karaoke? Too many times. It's like I'm on Stars In Their Eyes. Tonight Matthew, I'm Michael Buble! Okay then, Dolly Parton.

Made prank phone calls? Of course! Growing up in Bestwood Village in the 80s and 90s, it was the only thing to do. Dad even let us and JOINED IN! Parent goals, people! Several EVIL teachers received pizzas courtesy of me. And middle-of-the-night taxis. Serves them right.

Had a pet? Two cats, a few goldfish and a stick insect (called Weeny) that I accidentally hoovered up. Although it lived in a jar with nothing to do all day, so perhaps it was a happy release.

Been skinny-dipping? Yup. I had no shame from the age of 21 to erm, 39.

Abseiled down a building? Yes - in a harness that was so tight that I was able to hit notes that Mariah Carey can only dream of.

Been camping in a tent? Yes. And it was absolutely fucking awful. Much like pet-keeping and gynaecology in all its various forms, it's just not for me. I like a nearby toilet and sink and a proper bed. On the night in question, me and the bestie woke up unable to breathe and reluctant to make the mile long trek to the overflowing toilets. We ended up abandoning the tent and most of our belongings and drove home at three in the morning. We know to quit when we're ahead, basically. Actually I probably cried myself to sleep that night. Tears of joy!

Done something that could have killed you? I think my liking for Wenzels and Gregg's hot sausage rolls are a true and real risk to my health.

Done something that you will regret for the rest of your life? No. Take it on the chin, learn from it and move on.

Rode a camel? No. I have inherited a dislike for camels from my mother who I once heard telling her friend that a mutual chumof theirs got VD after being spat at by a camel in Lanzarote. You can't trust them, can you?

Been on TV? I once went on BlockBusters. It didn't end well. I still maintain that my buzzer wasn't working. A fix, in other words. #stillbitter.

Been in a car accident? Loads. I'm a terrible driver. I wrote off a brand new car in Spain when I drove it into a lorry. Then I tried to say sorry to the driver but got my Spanish mixed up and ended up telling him I loved him. 'Yo Te Quiero mucho!' I boomed. He wasn't impressed.

Ever owned your dream car? I'm not the 'dream car' sort but my current ride - a Suzuki Swift - is a right bobby dazzler of a car, if I do say so myself.

Been Married? No. I don't see the point. I'd rather spend the money on a trip to Skeg-Vegas.

Fell in love? Of course. I'm in love right now. With Joey - and hot sausage rolls from Wenzels and Greggs. Which is what Jesus should have fed the five thousand with, not a few lumps of old mackerel.

Fell out of love? Yes. With Roxette in 1988 when they slagged Madonna off in Smash Hits. Who's laughing now, bitches?

Driven over 100mph? Yes - in a Nissan Micra. Check out my bad self. The car later died. I blame myself.

Worked in a pub? Yes. Three at the last count. Sacked from two of them. Marxism in action.

Been scuba diving? Yes! And I loved it. I looked quite sinister in a wetsuit though. I looked like a load of vacuum packed dildos. Inconvenient lumps and bumps everywhere. It was the deep sea diving equivalent of a fat bride on her wedding day. Me and neoprene rubber just aren't well matched. Also, I got told off for taking a shell from the bottom of the sea. Anyone would think I'd killed a litter of puppies to hear this woman go on at me. I think she had issues.

Eaten snails? I've had a few questionable things in my mouth over the years, but snails ain't one of em. No thank you.

A life well lived, I'm sure you'll agree.

No comments: