Nuclear Holocaust Bucket List

Don’t panic or anything, but we’re all going to die. I’ve pretty much felt this way since that fateful night when I sobbed into my microwave popcorn and put my drunk ass to bed after finally accepting the Donald had won the presidency. Pondering our imminent deaths then was always more like comic relief for me than it was a stark reality. Kinda like, that’s ok if he decimates Social Security, we’re all going to be dead in a year anyway. See, losing your financial safety net and realizing you’re going to be eating cat food when you retire is funny, right?

I try my best to avoid all Trump related media, unless it involves making fun of how much bronzer he wears, but no matter how strong an effort I put forth I could not get away from his tirade against North Korea. He was talking about fire and fury and then fire and fury again because he has the conversation skills of a toddler. The same three words over and over and over, louder each time.

And why does he do that thing with his lips? He puckers them up and makes his mouth look like the hind end of a chihuahua . Then he squints his eyes and tries to look all mean, but he just ends up looking like an old man that’s trying really hard to see what button on the remote gets him to that Lawrence Welk show he loves so much.

I couldn’t avoid the squinty eyes and childish babble when I made the pitiable mistake of letting my husband have control of the TV for an hour. He likes to watch the news. I don’t watch the news because even when I watch the news for a nanosecond I break out in anxiety induced hives and start googling the price of bomb shelters. But I watched the news anyway.

“….fire and fury like this world has never seen.”

*pursed lips*

*squinty eyes*

Fire and fury! Fury and fire! My penis is very small. I’m so ashamed of my small penis. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

So, we’re going to die because our president has a small penis. Allegedly has a small penis. Ya know, allegedly. But I’m here to tell you it’s not all bad. Facing one’s mortality can be really liberating. I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk on my own for awhile after my surgery. When I woke up from anesthesia the first thing that entered my mind was the regret I held over not working hard enough when I was healthy to run the half marathon that had long been on my bucket list.

Regret over something I didn’t do when I had the chance to do it.

Regret over squandering my time.

Regret. Not relief. Not hope. Not joy. Regret.

Regret can eat you up. If you let it. But regret can fuel you. Regret can kick you in the ass and shake you to the core and be your proverbial come to Jesus moment. Regret can also be your literal come to Jesus moment, if that’s your thing. No judgement here.

Like the feeling of hope and immense satisfaction that can only come when you peel that plastic sheet off the screen of your brand new phone, regret has given me a new outlook on life. It has made me more vocal, more open, more willing, more thankful, and even more funnier. Way more funnier. 

So, I’m not going to look upon this latest threat to my mortality as a negative. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I’m using it as a call to action. I’m going to use it as an impetus to accomplish great feats before I will inevitably be turned to ash in a hopefully instantaneous manner. At the very least, if Dennis Rodman isn’t able to quell Kim Jong-un’s rage and we’re all fried to KFC crispy tenderness, Donald will no longer be president. That’ll be something to look forward to. See, the positives aren’t that hard to find.

I’m hunkering down. Like, literally. I’m going to be hiding under a tinfoil sheet in my closet until someone else is president. Someone hold me.  I’m going to get my thoughts together, search the depths of my soul for a bit, and think of all those things I’d like to do before I die. What things will I regret not doing when I see the blinding flash coming toward me? This is what I have come up with, so far:

  • Eat an entire big bag of Skittles in one sitting. I’ve come close. One time I got damn near 3/4 of a bag in me. I almost passed out from the spike in blood sugar.
  • See just how much coffee is too much. I usually only have two cups a day. I’m really curious to know what shotgunning a ten cup carafe would do to me. Maybe I’d actually get the house clean. Of course, that would be my luck. The house is clean! And we’re all immediately dead. 
  • Become a bestselling author. I know. I know. This one is probably not likely to happen in the next couple of weeks, but I’ve always been one of those go big or go home kinda gals. As you can see by my other goals, it’s usually a philosophy I apply only to food, but it’s the end of the world so I’m feeling a little wacky.
  • Create the perfect smoky eye complete with winged eyeliner. Every time I try to recreate what I see in makeup tutorials I end up looking like the love child of Krusty the Clown and Marilyn Manson. I actually buy the same eyeshadow in the video, yet somehow it looks like I’ve used only Sharpies and charcoal briquettes to obtain my look. It’s safe to say I’m more than just a little cosmetically challenged.
  • Tell an outrageous story about why my hip looks the way it does. I’ve always wanted someone to ask me what happened so I could say I was bitten by a shark or a bear or a rabid jackalope while rescuing a school bus full of innocent children. This seems like the perfect time to do it.
  • Egg Gwyneth Paltrow’s house. That’s for telling women to steam their vaginas! This one’s for marrying Chris Martin. You ruined Coldplay for me! And here’s one for naming your kid Apple! What the fuck is wrong with you?
  • Go to a nude beach. My body is wrecked, people. I’ve got scars in all sorts of odd places, a muffin top that’s more like a pound cake, and a birthmark on my ass that’s bigger than the palm of my hand. But, my tits, my tits are alright. They are the one part of me that I wouldn’t mind showing off. Plus, I’ve never in my whole life been skinny dipping. I’ve got to go skinny dipping before the world ends!

You’ve got to go skinny dipping before the world ends!

We’ve all got to go skinny dipping before the world ends!

Except for you, Donald. You stay covered up. We’ve all seen enough of you.

*Featured image courtesy of Pixabay

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45 thoughts on “Nuclear Holocaust Bucket List

  1. LMFAO I fucking love all of this — but especially the very last point 🙂 I’ve never been either, so fuck yeah it’s fucking time I do it! And yeah, fuck Trump and his fucking big ass mouth. He’s gonna get the fucking universe annihilated….SHUT THE FUCK UP, TRUMP!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I have a closet in the basement where all the extra food, supplies, and gear gets stashed. The kids and I used to be all funny about it: “go put that flat of beans in the end of the world closet,” etc. Now we go to the store and we’re all “there aren’t nearly enough spaghettios and Hershey’s Kisses in the WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE BECAUSE REPUBLICANS AND DUMBASSES ELECTED A NARCISSISTIC TODDLER TO THE PRESIDENCY closet.” We set aside money to put new stuff in it every week.

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  3. I used to love the show doomsday preppers. Did you know there is a whole company that will take refurbished shipping containers and bury them in your yard as an instant bunker? Oh, and they will accept payment in the form of the types of coins advertised in between my grandfather’s favorite shows without batting an eye? Yeah – I’m not nearly as entertained now.

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  4. Actually LAUGHED OUT LOUD reading this and now my colleagues are looking at me like I’m weird! Oh well! Can we ban Gwyneth and her steam clean vagina from skinny dipping with us too?

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  5. Wait..what? Gwyneth Paltrow steams her hoo-haa? Ok, shweaty ying yangs aside, can’t y’all do something to get the moron out of the whitehouse? Anything? Please say there is something. There must be something? As your neighbor North of the border, I feel for you and I am angered beyond words that this guy is the president (and I use that term very loosely).

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  6. – Definitely “more funnier” – as if that’s even possible!
    – She got divorced from Chris Martin.
    – Her next kid will be named Orange. Or Fig. Yeah, Figgy for short. (Rhymes with “piggy” – imagine the bullying!)

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  7. So much awesome goodness in this post. But my favorite is that you skewered Gwyneth for name her child Apple. I have a post about that too, I’ll repost it just for you next Thursday. Also, don’t worry about the end of the Earth. South Korea is so lame that they can only get a middle to Guam. It may be the end of Guam. You’re not in Guam are you? I know you moved this year but I didn’t think it was too Guam.

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  8. Excellent list and giggle-full post as always Christine! 😀

    You really do need to go skinny dipping! It’s the best feeling (as long as you’re with friends that don’t make you feel self conscious.)

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  9. Loved this! All the smiles are belong to me! I agree, you simply must go skinny dipping. In my worst, sleepless, anxiety-riddled days, I drank 8+ cups of coffee a day. This was not good for me, but your mileage may vary. Yes, I got TONS done. TONS! With enough coffee and Skittles, who knows what you can accomplish!

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  10. Okay, here’s the plan (be prepared, I’ve taken a sleeping pill and wisely chose to read your blog instead of going to bed, so i MIIIIIIGHT be a little bit loopy): I only live about 3 hours from you now. Within the next 3 weeks, I’m going to stay at my friend’s house in Charlotte, and then you and I are going to get together to accomplish some of these things on your list. ‘Cause bucket lists are way better when shared with strange bloggers you’ve never met but who you’re almost kind of sort friends with via your blogs. Let’s make this happen.

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  11. Hey, I just discovered that you can like your own comment by clicking the litte star. I pretty much said, “Job well done, woman,” to me. Apparantly, I’m proud of myself or something. I must think I’m swell and aces. Also, I really should go to bed because bad things are about to happen, but I kinda want to just let them go ahead and happen. let it goooooooo, let it goooooooo, and i’ll rise like the bacon and eggggggs, let it goooooo, let it gooooooo, that perfect girl is goooone, here i stand in the light of daaaaaayy, let the storm rage ooooooooooon, I’m inside with Netflix anyway…… Wait. I think I just hijacked your blog thread comment section or something. Oh dear. This pretty bad and I should stop now. Any second now. Ok, for real now. Off to bed. Unless I happen to stroll by someone else’s great post first…

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  12. I totally get where you’re coming from! I’m feeling very YOLO amidst all the chaos. Laughter is powerful medicine for times like these. We watched MSNBC last night, as we do, and my husband quipped how funny/strange it would be if future history books noted that Dennis Rodman (of all people) ended up saving us from nuclear war with North Korea. Because of his bromance with that little turd who runs North Korea of course. Can you imagine?

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  13. “And why does he do that thing with his lips? He puckers them up and makes his mouth look like the hind end of a chihuahua.” DRIVES ME CRAZY! And the hand thing– he looks like he’s making a pecking turkey hand puppet. I definitely think you should ALWAYS freak people out with a made up story about your hip– what’s the point, if you can’t freak people out?!

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  14. I’ve been anticipating a nuclear holocaust since the September 11 attacks.
    Previous leaders in the West have kicked the Kim Jong can into the too hard basket. Trump’s rhetoric isn’t as slick as that of his predecessors, and perhaps taking notice so vocally is unwise, but I would really appreciate his detractors coming out with viable suggestions. So far, placating hasn’t worked, wringing of hands hasn’t worked, the poking fun at Kim Jong’s hair style hasn’t worked; imposing sanctions haven’t worked. It’s far easier to criticize than to come up with solutions.

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    1. And for Trump it’s far easier to wave his dick around and beat his chest than to take a thoughtful, measured approach to diplomacy. It’s easier to be ruled by his ego than to take the advice of seasoned military officials. It’s not my job to come up with solutions to a nuclear crisis. It’s my job to write. I did and I did it well. And I did it a hell of a lot better than Trump has done anything since he became president.

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      1. Firs, can I say that I appreciate your allowing me space on your blog. I’m guessing that Trump’s predecessors took advice from seasoned experts but much good it did them. Can I point out that well before Trump’s ‘waving his dick around,’ Kim Jong was refining his aim at the US. Christine, no one expects you to have a solution that has so far eluded the professionals, but you surely see that if there was a solution, it would have been dealt with years ago. I put it to you that if all Trump’s critics had a solution or even an opinion, they would have pointed it out.
        Last but not least, I don’t know about you, but I don’t trust any politicians.

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      2. It doesn’t “get dealt with”. It’s not a one and done scenario. It is constant work. Work that happens mostly behind the scenes, that we are not always privy to, nor necessarily should be. It takes patience and perseverance and intelligence, none of which Trump has. There are many politicians around the world that possess these qualities, that are trustworthy. Trump is not one of them. He is dangerous. That’s about all the space you’re afforded here on this matter. This was a humor piece. Enjoy it or don’t, I don’t care, but debate about Trump’s effectiveness elsewhere.

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      3. Not so humerous. It’s obvious that you’re not interested in acknowledging that decades of behind the scene work as you put it has come to nothing. I’m not interested in you or your opinions, Christine.

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  15. hehehe I’ve soooo missed my regular Christine infusion! I’m speaking metaporically (misspelled intentionally for extra puniness) AND hyperbolically here. Injecting people into other people sounds a lot like cannabalism, which is really bad for cholesterol levels. And I’m on a health kick recently, so I’m trying to limit myself to 2 Snickers and NO humans per day. Wish me luck…

    By the way, if you’re talking about the family size Skittles bag, that’s a lofty goal.

    OMG…this is already a rambling comment, but as I thought about your bucket list, I realized that I’ve totally done a few of them while hiking in the woods for 6 months (including the skinny dipping on Hike naked Day). You should totally head for the hills for 6 months. Take the family. Make a thing out of it;)

    Then, when you write a book about throwing eggs with perfectly applied makeup at Gweneth’s shack, you’ll be an even bigger super star. Your neighbor would probably even buy your book.

    Genius. Right?

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