Things Have Changed, Morals Have Been Sacrificed,
And Almost Still Doesn't Count

I made this list a long time ago. The thing about lists like this is the whole "Never Say Never" thing. Excuses get made, lines get blurred, and the next thing you know you're Sleeping with your Biopsychology Professor to get a better grade/Selling your brother's baby on the black market/Splicing into your neighbor's cable/Almost jailed for starting a revolution against your native country and defecting to your own made-up country where monkeys roam free and you are the Princess.


10 Things I'll Never Do

1. Shave someone's eyebrows off while they are passed out drunk. Hair anywhere else is fair game though (This is probably why people shy away from me at bars, isn't it? Isn't it?).


2. Sing "Love Shack" at karaoke. I don't care if it's a little old place where we can get together, I'm not doing it, you can't make me, and if you try I will get in my Chrysler, it seats about 20, and RUN YOU DOWN, and it will be reminiscent of when that poor kid that liked Felicity got mowed down by a bus (it was a fate better than life with Felicity if you ask me, although technically he didn't die, but he's dead to me! And so is she! And so are you! Dead, dead, dead!).


3. Sleep with Robert Redford for a million dollars. Wait. Unless I need the million dollars to post my bail for running someone down for making me sing "Love Shack" at a karaoke bar or Felicity files a civil lawsuit against me for trying to run her down stalking her cutting her hair saying she is dead to me, because I know she reads this, and no, she's not a fictional TV character, haven't we been through this already? Have you not learned anything?


4. Own any garden gnomes. There is nothing more to be said about this. Except maybe that when I think of garden gnomes I imagine them coming to life and digging up my toaster out back and plugging it in and assisting in TOASTING ME TO DEATH, and then going back to being non-live garden gnomes and never having to pay for their crime. Or crimes, as it may be, because really, what's to stop them from toasting everyone to death?


5. Drive a station wagon. Especially a wooden one. Especially to the Grand Canyon where no doubt Bobby and Cindy will get lost and Cindy will cry and I will have to beat her senseless, but not to "Hungry Like THE Wolf" like you might think, but instead to "My Name is Luka", except I will replace "Luka" with "Cindy", and if you think Cindy was crying before...


6. Relate to any Mariah Carey song. I can't get into this because that would mean listing Mariah Carey songs and I don't know any Mariah Carey songs unless you count that "Hero" one, which I don't because that was a really moving song. Only not really. Hold on, I have to go strip on MTV be sick.


7. Relate to Mariah Carey. This is the most I've ever said Mariah Carey's name. Except for that time I wrote her that hate fan letter. I'm pained. But if I don't list it I might fall and smack my head on a rock sometime and wake up from a coma thinking it's ok to relate to her. It's not ok.


8. Pop out of a cake for someone's bachelor party/bachelorette party/53rd anniversary party/wedding/bar mitzvah.
Birthday parties are negotiable, but if you want me to pop out of your cake you better bring your Def Leppard CD...And bring your Visa Card, because I don't wear frosting for free...And I don't accept American Express (Visa! It's Everywhere You Want To Be).
Damn, that whole Visa thing cancels out the "Sell my soul to Visa" I was originally going to use as the #9 Thing I'll Never Do. Now I have to think of something else. I hate it when I subconsciously become Visa's whore.


9. Own more than one cat. I will not become That Crazy Cat Woman in your neighborhood. The one that smells like cat litter and spends all of her Social Security check on cat food for Fluffy, Muffy, Buffy, Kitty, Smitty, Smokey, Pokey, Mr. Whiskers, and Snowball. You know, like my Aunt Genna (If you're reading this, Aunt Genna, I mean the other Aunt Genna).


10. Burn down my house/restaurant/friendly neighborhood grocer/children for the insurance money. Unless I needed the money for any of the reasons listed in #3 or Unless my house/restaurant/friendly neighborhood grocer/children were possessed or haunted. Then all bets would be off. Because seriously, I don't have time for bathtubs filled with blood, Casper The Friendly Maitre D', talking produce, or spinning heads.


Did I say Never? Because I've actually already done three of these (well four if you count the one not on the actual list, but hidden secretly in the post. Ok, not-so-secretly. Whatever). In one day. With Mariah Carey's help. Just kidding. About the Mariah Carey part anyway.