Day 8: Another List

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Things that are theoretically possible, but I, as of yet, cannot do.

-        Make my grandma’s meatballs.  No idea why, I can’t replicate them, even when she’s sitting right there, telling me exactly what to do.  The secret ingredient might actually be in love in this case.

-        Sky dive.  I’m not jumping out of a fucking plane.  I don’t even want to go on a plane.

-        Take Leonardo DiCaprio seriously.  I can’t watch a movie with him in it.  Every time he shows up I get yanked out of the movie.  No reason and I don’t have anything against him.  He walks into a scene and in my head I think, “Hey, it’s Leonardo DiCaprio.  Why’s Leonardo DiCaprio going undercover for the Boston State Police?  Won’t the criminals recognize him?  When did Leonardo DiCaprio get his pilot’s license, and still find the time to steal Howard Hughes’ plane?

-        Cook Chinese dumplings.  The secret ingredient is probably ground-up tiger.  And here I am, using brown sugar.

-        Read Sandman.  Apparently it’s the greatest comic book, ever.  I can’t get past the art.  I’m shallow, surprising no one.  Also, its fan base is kind of repellant.  Not wanting to be lumped in with those Martians is mighty bold talk coming from a Browncoat.

-        Dance.  My body doesn’t work that way.  I can’t even clap along with a song.  No one has ever been more alone in a crowd as me when Queen’s “We Will Rock You” starts to play.

-        Play golf.  Drilling golf balls as far as you can is a great way to relieve stress.  Which is important, because putting makes me want to put a railroad spike into my head.

-        Watch a horror movie.  I hate them.  The victim has to sit there and take it, completely unable to fight back, or it’s torture porn, which is just like the victim having to sit there and take it in the previous example, except they literally just have to sit there and take it.  The feeling of helplessness just makes me uneasy to the point where I can’t enjoy the movie.  Or it’s Nightmare on Elm Street where Kruger can get you in your dreams.  That’s fucked up.

-        Smoke.  My lungs can’t take it.  I cough uncontrollably no matter what kind of smoke; then I turn green; then I throw up: then I want to die.

Matt