Bucket list, shmucket list.
We’re all familiar with the phrase ‘kicking the bucket’, a euphemism, presumably derived during an era where staging one’s own demise was accomplished by standing on a bucket, securing a noose, and kicking away. Goodbye cruel world.
And to the credit of modern society, we’ve managed to travel further down the morbid path of introspection by altering, for the sake of brevity and hapless wit, an already grim concept.
Bucket List.
The fact that this expression is so widely overused is in itself an irritant of significant proportions. I can no longer acknowledge the term, nor can I feign the slightest bit of interest when the topic is broached. Monotony, repetition, pie-in-the-sky generalities have combined to successfully dilute the concept into another bland cliché that’s lost all meaning and significance.
“That’s going on my bucket list.”
Fantastic, but I’m not interested.
Regardless if it’s paragliding in Costa Rica, retracing…
View original post 203 more words
Actually I’d do skydiving if given the opportunity. All I want is to fly. Sadly I think we all have to get a colonoscopy at some point in our lives.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ve managed to dodge the latter thus far, but some things are inevitable I guess. I know there is an indoor ski-diving place in Mississauga, our daughter wanted to go on her 4th birthday, but later changed her mind. Cheers, thanks Emily!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice. I’m going to be reading up on you soon. This was awesome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cheers, thank you!
LikeLike