I Won’t Do These Things

But I said no, no, no, no-no-no


It occurred to me the other day that I was going to have to address the inevitable issue of just what I Won’t Do. I’d hate to disappoint you somewhere down the line by refusing to do something you really had your heart set on me doing so you don’t have to. So! Here is a shortish list, which will hopefully set some much-needed boundaries in our future relationship:

  • I won’t fly without pills. You can’t make me! These pills were prescribed for me, and I need them. They keep me calm and happy, even while other passengers are bouncing off the ceiling during bad turbulence. I have nightmares about flying pill-less. Truthfully, I don’t think anything bad would happen if I forgot my pills. But I don’t want to find out. And neither does that screaming baby sitting behind me.
  • I won’t get another Brazilian wax. Yes, I’ve had one, and yes, you’ll hear all about it at some point. And, although it is incomprehensible to me that I even need to answer this question: YES! It hurts! A lot! Think about it. Ew, no—don’t think about me, think about some generic woman and her lady parts. Think about what is being done to those parts. Does it hurt? (angry muttering)
  • I won’t try Alli. You know Alli, it’s that new sensation in diet crazes. I’m no stranger to a crazy diet, but when the manufacturer has to warn me:

You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it’s probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work.

Dark pants???!!! Are you kidding me? I hope you don’t need me to spell this out for you. Gah.

  • I won’t eat raisins. Raisins are just wrong. They are grapes gone bad. What good can come of a raisin? They pop up everywhere they’re not supposed to—just when you think you’ve got a nice mouthful of delicious coffeecake, CHOMP, there’s a disgusting chewy raisin.
  • I won’t think Matt Damon is the Sexiest Man Alive . . . of any year. I know he is popular with the ladies and he kicked ass in the Bourne movies, but to me, he looks like a baby. A kind of homely baby. And while I’m on the subject, throw in Leonardo DiCaprio and Ben Affleck. Leo looks like a pretty little girl and Ben is your classic Frankenhead.
  • I won’t ride a rollercoaster or any other scary, unsafe carnival ride. Why are people such bullies about this sort of thing? Why don’t they get that feeling sick to my stomach and worrying about being flung into space isn’t really all that fun for me? Do they not notice that the operators of these rides are stoned out of their gourds? Leave me and my funnel cake in peace.
  • I won’t get sucked into watching Big Brother. Look, I watch enough embarrassing reality TV, but I draw the line at this mess. I swore I wasn’t going to watch Celebrity Apprentice, and now I’m totally rooting for Piers to kick Omarosa’s butt.
  • I won’t give spinning another try. It may be great exercise, but, speaking of lady parts, it hurts, plain and simple. People have told me that you get over the soreness, that you don’t feel it any more. What—am I developing a callus there? I don’t even want to think about that. Padded shorts you say? Get real.
  • I won’t eat either Vegemite or Marmite. Thanks to Jeff for doing that so nobody else has to.
  • I won’t sky-dive, scuba-dive, jump off a diving board—anything involving diving, I pretty much won’t do. There’s a reason God put my feet on the bottom and my head on top. They’re supposed to stay like that. God also made me a land creature, so you won’t find me in water that covers my head. It’s not natural.

OK. There’s more, but that’s enough for now. Please check back later this week, when I return to doing things so you don’t have to.

If YOU want to do some of these things:
  • Try yourself some Alli. But read this first (caution: contains hilarious swear words).
  • Get a Brazilian. Watch one being done here (no, they don’t show any lady parts).
  • Jump on a rollercoaster. But you’d better bone up on some stats.