Everybody has a bucket list. Whether you actually write it down or not, we all have those things we want to accomplish or places we want to visit before we die. Well I have a new concept for you, a list of experiences I’d rather not have before I kick the bucket, and if I somehow fail to avoid every single one of these dreaded items I’m afraid I might actually drop dead prematurely. Let’s go to the list, which is in order of least to most devastating to my will to live if I relent or are subjected to the listed experience.
Give a Single Cent to Any Political Campaign or Institution of Higher Learning
I’m a pretty selfish guy, and so even though I have love for my alma mater, the Gophers have a better chance of winning the BCS National Championship than they do of actually seeing any of my money coming their way. And politicians? Not exactly hurting for money themselves, plus as I get older and older my political views have morphed into cynicism which is rapidly bringing on outright apathy. You can have my vote but my money will be used on beer, golf, and gambling.
Will to Live Devastation: 1 out of 5. If I give some money to the Gopher basketball program I’ll still be able to sleep at night.
Change the Diaper of a Child that Isn’t Mine
This one’s pretty self-explanatory. If the kid isn’t my responsibility, I don’t care if he sits in his own filth until his mother comes along to do her thing. I do hate the sound of screaming babies, but you know what I hate even more? Poop on my hands. Worse yet, another person’s poop. Plus, I haven’t the slightest clue on how to change a diaper, so this is for the child’s benefit, really. But this one should be really easy to avoid since I don’t think the parents of Minneapolis are lining up at my door to have me babysit. Now as a bonus, I’d love if this item was Change a Diaper, including my own children, but unfortunately the modern American woman doesn’t put up with this 1950’s style of “hands-off” fathering, so my two options would be adoption or never passing on this world class DNA. May have to bite the bullet on that one.
Will to Live Devastation: 2 out of 5. I really want this one, but if I somehow had to change a niece or nephew’s diaper I’d get over it.
Attend a “Gender Reveal Party”
Good gosh, how far have we fallen? Could there be a more profound sign of the times than the fact that women that have nothing better to do but peruse Pinterest
all day and come up with these messed up parties? Honestly, this concept is so bizarre to me that I can’t even believe that chicks are into them. I think the women of the world have gotten together and decided to see how far they can push us men before we break. It’s been a patriarchal society throughout history, but make no mistake, the women are taking over. Allow gender reveal parties to be Exhibit A. I’m on to their strategy. They start small, by taking over households one by one, imposing their will on their husbands with nonsense like this, but it won’t be long before they’re getting college degrees, working outside the home, and holding positions in politics. Whoops! Already there! I’m afraid of where they can go next because you could have told me as recently as 3 years ago about these parties and I would have laughed at you and never believed it was a real thing. Not knowing where they’ll hit us next haunts me with every keystroke as I type this.
Will to Live Devastation: 3 out of 5. I’ll survive if there’s booze and good food.
Cut the Umbilical Cord of My Offspring
If I’m being perfectly honest here, it’s always been my fantasy that if I’m ever in the position of an expecting father, that I would be able to hearken back to the glorious days of yesteryear when the man got to wait pacing back and forth in the waiting room praying for a boy and then get to light up a stogie when I receive the good news that the wife survived and produced me a healthy heir. I’ve let this slip in front of women before, even an ex-girlfriend, and to say that didn’t go over well would be like saying “The Decision” wasn’t so well received in Cleveland
. Apparently the modern man is expected to be in the delivery room, videotape this entire gruesome, horrifying process, and strangest of all to me personally: cut the umbilical cord. What kind of morbid convention is that? The thought of it gives me the willies as I write this. I guess if I have to so I don’t get murdered by my future babymama, I’ll be in the same room, but my strategy will be to keep my back to the action underneath her gown, and she can forget about any videocameras in there. I’d rather watch The English Patient
on a loop for a week than relive the horrors of the delivery room from my own sofa. As for that umbilical cord, the nurse can handle that. What am I paying you for? And you better not screw up and give my boy an outie.
Will to Live Devastation: 3 out of 5. The memory of it would haunt my dreams but at least it’s over and done with quickly.
Have a Child Grow up to be a Packers Fan
In the world of sports, there are a lot of athletes, coaches, and teams that I “sports hate”. I use the term “sports hate” as a way to rationalize all of the unholy things I say about my teams’ adversaries while watching them play, but outside of the realm of sports, I don’t really wish anything unhealthy towards any of them. However, my disdain for the Packers and their fans is downright unhealthy and I’m afraid it exceeds the bounds of “sports hate” and enters into “hate hate” when Aaron Rodgers acts like the arrogant cock he is after another touchdown pass against our swiss cheese of a secondary. I can accept my future children to be into a lot of different things, including rooting for teams other than my favorite teams, but choosing the Packers would kill me. That’s a deal breaker for me as a father. Not sure their mom would allow this, but putting them up for adoption would weigh heavily on my mind. I think it goes without saying that I can’t consider a woman who would willingly place a yellow wedge of cheese on her head as datable, but you’d be surprised how many people who tell me I’m the crazy one for saying this. Sorry I don’t want my children to grow up in a house where the parents don’t talk to each other two Sundays a year, and obviously, having the enemy infiltrate my family would greatly jeopardize the chances of me avoiding this bizarro bucket list item.
Will to Live Devastation: 5 out of 5. I’m dead serious.
Participate in an Engagement/Pregnant Photoshoot
I could just copy and paste my gender reveal party rant for this subject, but I’m going to make this more of a call to action to the men out there: Stop doing these! Every single guy who does these is just making it that much harder for his fellow man to say no. I know it’s always easier to just say yes and not push back because of the tears and manipulation you’re up against, but it’s a slippery slope and saying no only gets easier the more you do it. As men, we’ve relented on so many things in this world: the toilet seat, the delivery room (as I covered earlier), and even related things like paying for expensive wedding and family photos. But at some point, a line must be drawn. For me, it’s gender reveal parties and engagement photos, and even worse, pictures with the about to burst wife. I’ll agree to about 3 poses in one outfit that would take 5 minutes tops to put in the wedding invitations, but these hours long sessions where you look into each other’s eyes
make me want to puke. And since when did it become a thing for women wanting all of these pictures of themselves as big as a house? Is this to just look at later when they’re feeling a little overweight so they can make themselves feel better? And even if that’s what she wants to do, fine, but why do you need me? I look the same before and after conception and birth so you can just defer to my wedding photos if you need a reminder of what I look like. Seriously, if I was beaten down to the point of this right here, then we’re at official Pete Magete suicide watch status.
Will to Live Devastation: 4 out of 5 for engagement photos, 5 out of 5 for pregnancy pics. Gonna need a whole lot of bribery and manipulation to get me to budge on this one.
I hope I’ve inspired you to avoid the things in life you dread. Peace.