50 Things To Do Before I Go Splat

It may sound so trite, but the recent assassination attempts on my life have really given me time to realize that life is a precious gift. I now understand that we have limited time on this earth and that we should strive to do new and exciting and unique things every chance we get. Upon reflection, I see that I haven’t done much of anything noteworthy with my life. This is not counting my highly successful humor blog or my 1141 lbs. prize winning pumpkin at the county fair last year (Take that, ol’ man Weatherspoon!) which came in 2nd place (I’ll get you next year, Farmer Todd!).

After considering that, I spent a good deal of time on the Internet and I became inspired some of the brilliant goals people set for themselves in their lives. I decided that I should also make a list of the things I need to accomplish before I die. I don’t want to be an old man and have a bucket list that I race to complete before the end. I want a huge motherfucker that should take years to finish. With any luck, I should be able to get most of it done before I turn 40, the age where I will be long overdue to be dead and buried. Many of these are more like chores, but others satisfy my impotent sense of adventure and personal curiosities. I would not doubt that some of you would have a few of these crossed off your list, but these are things I feel I need to do. I will cross them off as they are completed.

Here are the first 50 items in my soon to be extensive list (in no particular order):

  • Tour through Europe
  • Acquire a passport
  • Grow a handlebar mustache
  • Attend the Source Awards
  • Master the rock the cradle move with that damn Yo-Yo
  • Read War and Peace
  • Throw myself from a plane, float gently to the ground
  • Slay a wolverine (rabid or sleeping)
  • Adopt a highway
  • Run for City Dogcatcher
  • Spit on Derek Jeter
  • Make a hole-in-one
  • Sit through an entire poetry slam without leaving early
  • Get a tattoo
  • Attend a Beck concert
  • Build, treat, later burn down a deck
  • Visit a nude beach
  • Support the troops
  • Eat 50,000 49,983 chocolate chip cookies (cumulative)
  • Watch, review the entire Jim Carrey oeuvre
  • Maintain ant farm for 2 weeks
  • Meet Jared Fogle
  • Have my portrait painted
  • Sink a hole-in-one (mini golf)
  • Witness sunset from the highest natural point in Kansas
  • Buy 10 shares in Google
  • Shame first born in front of his/her mates
  • Get back hair lasered off
  • Mail a chain letter
  • Count the number of licks to the center of a Tootsie Pop
  • Meet Internet girlfriend face-to-face
  • Build 1:3 scale model of St. Louis Gateway Arch out of Lego
  • Interview Maya Angelou
  • See “Cats”
  • Bowl a 295 or better
  • Listen to own heartbeat with stethoscope
  • Have a Napa weekend
  • View all Academy Award Best Picture winners
  • Learn how to make my own pasta
  • Perfect butterfly stroke
  • Attend a World Cup match
  • Determine once and for all if I am allergic to clam chowder or just clams, if either
  • Befriend a Jew, black guy, and a fireman, walk into a bar together
  • Visit all Major League Baseball stadiums in one season
  • Judge a beauty or talent contest
  • Go 365 364 363 362 consecutive days without accidentally biting my tongue
  • Participate in guerilla marketing for a cell phone company or oatmeal product
  • Study and master the Waltz, Lambada, Charleston
  • Visit the pyramids in Egypt
  • Have a fight set to techno music

And there we are! The first 50 of many great things I will accomplish before I die! Keep checking in on the list over the years to see how I’m doing with it. I am adding to the list as time goes on, but I’m not posting them right away. If any of you have some amazing and unique experiences you think I should do to further expand the fullness of life, your suggestions would be very welcome!

I Was A Target Of Assassination!

Not My Wife. Yet.

Not My Wife. Yet.

So, after my startlingly successful post over a month ago about Sarah Palin’s MAXIM cover, it seems like I dropped off the face of the Earth. No new posts since August 29 and barely a peep out of me otherwise. Speculation has been running rampant through the blogosphere, and as each day passes, the rumors get more and more outrageous. I thought I’d set the record straight on some of the more plausible, but still completely false, rumors. I did not, in fact, decide to retire after my highly successful 7-week run at humor blogging. Nor did I run off and elope with model/actress Gemma Atkinson. I did not, in fact, get a job with Carnival Cruiseline as a Morale Officer. I did not, in fact, return to college as president of the Delta Gamma Beta sorority (more specifically, I am not a 20 year old co-ed).

I should just leave it at that and be on my way, but it seems that the masses will never stop clamoring for more Free Soup With Purchase. So even though doing so may cause me to relive some emotional stress, I have decided to let everyone know where I have been. I will tell you in six words or less: I was a target of assassination! And while I survived, I have not done so without some scars to show for it. These past few weeks have been mentally and physically brutal, but I would say I am stronger for it. Without exaggeration, this has been the most harrowing and stressful time of my life!

The first attempt on my life begins six weeks ago this past Friday. While I was hard at work scanning and retouching my completely legitimate MAXIM issue that featured a sexy Sarah Palin on the cover, I enjoyed a hearty sandwich piled high with extremely American ingredients, including but not limited to delicacies such as orange cheese slices, Oscar Mayer bologna, and mayonnaise. It wasn’t until a few hours later on the racquetball court that I realized something was wrong. I doubled over in sudden pain after a particularly good volley, confused and worried that I was in my final moments of life. Fortunately, I was with my good friend, Broadway actor Anthony Rapp, who dialed 911 and got me to the hospital in time for an emergency surgery. Little did I know just how hearty that sandwich was; it contained a foreign substance that would have easily removed all stability in my digestive system. The staple of what keeps my health together was put in jeopardy, and I could have experienced a painful death. Luckily, the surgeons took care of me and said I would be back on the court in no time. Like with all of my celebrity friends, I do not mention Anthony on my blog, and he has always asked that I keep our association off the blogosphere. But I think it is more because I handily beat him in racquetball nearly every time we play.  Either way, I owe the man my life, and I must give credit where credit is due. He is my hero and I would not be here if not for him.

Assassination Attempt #1

Assassination Attempt #1

Now, you might think that the poisoning of my sandwich was an accident. I mean, it happens. How many times have you accidentally put some sort of office supply between a few slices of lunchmeat? “Enough,” you might reply, and so would I! That’s what I thought; this was just a simple mistake that turned deadly. I didn’t suspect assassination until days later, when attempt #2 occurred!!

I was released from the hospital after a few days to recover and I took a cab home. I stopped off for a quick walk through the park to take in the fresh air and reflect on my renewed value for life. Satisfied that I took in enough nature and annoyed at the stupid chirping birds everywhere, I set off for home. I arrived at my apartment on the second floor and unlocked the door. As I pushed it open, I noticed a few small twigs had become entwined in my shoelace during my walk. So I bent forward to pull them out and I pushed the door open wide to make room. That’s when I heard a click and suddenly three large arrows plunged into the door right where my face would have been. Now, I knew I hadn’t set that booby trap since Christmas ’04; someone else had to put that together when I was in the hospital!

Shaken, I called the police and they investigated but could not come up with any clues. I mentioned the sandwich incident and they said I may have become a target. It made some sense, but I couldn’t think of why. I had no known enemies, I hadn’t angered anyone recently who might seek revenge, and with my mounting debts I’m technically worth more alive than not. It was reasonable to assume no one stood to benefit from my demise!

I decided I would be cautious and more attentive, just in case the theory was true. And for two solid weeks it seemed like everything was fine. Nothing was different about my life. My highly successful part-time dog walking service was steady, all the regular gals showed up at Bingo night, my whore ex-wife was still dead. I managed to convince myself that maybe I really did set up the flying arrows booby trap before the sandwich incident. I’ve been known to sleepwalk and sleepdance, why not sleeptrapmaking? Finally after a few weeks, I could unclench and relax. Everything else was normal, so it was time for me to get back to my life without constantly looking over my shoulder.

Turns out, I was wrong. Dead wrong. After a particularly hazy night full of Midori Sours and LSD, I woke up early to start the morning walks. No matter how hard I party, my customers come first. Spot and Miss Periwinkle certainly can’t walk themselves! Hungover and with only one eye open to guide me, I made it into the bathroom. I reached though the shower curtain to turn the shower faucets on, looking forward to a hot scrubbing. Then I turned and took a look in the mirror and suddenly felt a cold gooeyness under my foot. I leapt backward in shock, remembering that I firecely vomited there after I got home the night before, and at that moment a large arm with a huge knife swung out of the shower. Had I not jumped backward, I would have been adding my own warm gooeyness to the bathroom tile.

Seeing only red, I leapt at my attacker and pinned him to the tub floor with the curtain between us. I pummeled him with the might of half a man in my blind frustration and anger. I began hearing a thumping beat as I swung wildly, and the noise became more and more melodious as I suddenly recognized it. It was the old A-Team theme song, and I realized it was coming from me. I was humming it to pump myself up as I laid waste to my assassin. Once he stopped struggling, my humming stopped and I peeled back the curtain to reveal a huge and unconscious German-looking man. I covered the tub drain and put some water in the tub. When he woke up, he saw me standing over him holding a hair dryer, which was plugged in the wall.

“One false move, and you’re fried,” I said with an added bit of gravel in my voice. He nodded that he understood. “Now start talking.”

He explained in his German accent that he was hired by some so-and-so crime boss in Latvia to come kill a man with my name. This man had stolen a ton of cash from the Latvian and now he was to die. One strong piece of intel he had was the target had once attended Lincoln Community College in southern Iowa. Well, I did in fact go to that school, but there was another guy with my exact name and we went there at the same time. Class registration was always a problem for us, let me tell you! Me in his Physics class, him in my Music Appreciation class, etc. I told Mr. Assassin that he screwed up his research and he had the wrong guy. I showed him an old yearbook, my bank statements, and my hilarious blog, trying to convince him of his error. He considered it, glanced around my apartment, and he concurred he made a mistake.

I told him that if he still intended to kill me because I saw his face, I was ready to defend myself. He quietly said he would not attempt any harm. When I asked him why he would let me live, he glanced over at my computer monitor and then looked back at me. There was a small sadness in his eyes. He patted my shoulder and slowly walked out the door without saying a word. Over on the monitor, the Sarah Palin MAXIM picture on my highly successful blog stared at me. Then it made sense. But when I recount this story to others, they tell me it was out of pity, and not the prospect of robbing the world of my incredible humor and talent, that the German spared me. I choose to believe my theory, and not the one of my bastard friends and family.

So, my friends, this last month and a half was especially tough, and you have all been great just hanging in there waiting for me to return. I am alive and well, and I will likely be spending much more time here to continue giving you the only gift I can.

You can thank the German for that.