Aug
26
August 26, 2006
Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and emails from my last entry. Thank you for – warning, whoop whoop, warning! Cheese factor at an all-time high! – helping me heal. Thank you, thank you for listening.
:::
I was sitting in Riley’s room last night with JB while JB read a couple bedtime books, and I noticed that while I am usually quite sincere with my storytelling and offer insipid “educational” extra commentary like “Is that a cow? You saw a cow on the farm today, didn’t you? Yes, you did, when you were in the backpack! Can you say cow? Coooowww”, JB takes a somewhat…different approach.
“The rooster says cockle-doodle-doo. And this is a hen. The hen says, Any cock’ll-dooo,” JB read. “And that’s a horse. He says, naaaayygetmeoutofEnumclaw.”
The next book, Where is Baby’s Bellybutton, involves lifting up various flaps to reveal where the item in question is. “Where is baby,” JB said. “What’s in the box? What’s in the box? Aww man, what’s in the booox?”
For the record, when both parents are laughing hysterically, it’s awful damn hard to get a baby to fall asleep.
JB has been operating on Stress Level Orange lately due to a work project that depending on any given moment oscillates between “giant clusterfuck” and “deathmarch to hell”. There are people on his team working even crazier hours than he is, but his work/life balance has definitely taken a plunge towards cardiac-arrest territory. He gets home, spends time with Riley and I, and once Riley goes to bed he’s back on the computer or phone dealing with a neverending series of crises until it’s midnight, his eyes look like two pissholes in the snow, and I shuffle in to tell him to come to bed goddamnit.
He was talking to me on Thursday about how much responsibility he has to get this project to completion, and how the various risk factors keep threatening the schedule and how shitty he would feel about letting his team down. I reminded him that sometimes circumstances are outside of our control, and there’s only so much you can do. “110% is a logistical impossibility,” I said. “Sometimes you have to have a streak of Fuck It to deal with stuff like this, so you don’t drive yourself crazy.”
“In fact,” I said slowly, a great and marvelous idea blooming, “What you need is a Fuck It bucket.”
If you’ve read much David Sedaris, maybe you remember his brother, “The Rooster” (second rooster reference in one journal entry! Go TEAM!) and his Fuck It bucket filled with candy. “When shit brings you down, just say ‘fuck it’, and eat yourself some motherfucking candy.”
So on Friday I made JB a Fuck It bucket:
Contents of the Fuck It bucket include: mini KitKat bars, Snickers, Reese’s Cups, and a bunch of little plastic army dudes, which, if you’re feeling spicy, can be placed in various compromising positions in a clear violation of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. (“SIR YES SIR! This cadet wishes he could quit you.”)
The Fuck It bucket (technically the Fuck It Tupperware Container) is meant to be sitting on JB’s desk at work, so he and his coworkers can briefly escape their ongoing troubles via chocolate’s sweet, loving embrace; unfortunately, between now and Monday the bucket is in our kitchen, and I am finding many a good excuse to say eff it (in the boy’s presence anyway, lest I visit both the cuss jar and the Fuck It bucket in the same sentence) and eat myself some motherfucking candy.
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I don’t really have a comment, but I’ve never seen you with NO comments so I’m going to have to say something. Um…great entry! It also brings to mind, “Two tears in a bucket, motherfuck it”, which was Miss … Whatshername’s feel good mantra from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Also, I find Anthony’s books to be so full of filth and sex I can’t stand it! My husband and I find EVERYTHING dirty in those books, even Pat the Bunny. Enjoy the motherfucking candy!
I am totally constructing myself a fuck it bucket this instant.
Also, I just finished reading Me Talk Pretty One Day (David Sedaris) and I cannot believe I’ve never read him before, because oh my holy hell, the brilliance!
*Everyone* needs a Fuck It Bucket, I think. The contents, of course, vary from individual to individual, but the concept is gold. After JB takes his to work, you should make your own, Sundry, to keep!
Hot damn, I’m gonna make me a Fuck It Bucket this afternoon!
Man, I could have used that this week.
I think my fiance needs one of those at his work right now! Great idea!
In keeping with the spirit of the entry (ooh, dirty), I quickly read it as “lest I violate both the cuss jar and the Fuck It bucket in the same sentence.”
Very timely for me. I am trying to bill 10 hours on a saturday . . .
Hello, longtime lurker here. Just wanted to say that I’ve been reading your site for a while now and I love it. It’s the first blog in my list that I check for updates! I read “Me Talk Pretty One Day” in my apartment my sophmore year of college. I laughed so hard for so long that the next day my neighbor politely asked me if I was having a nervous breakdown. I guess the walls were kinda thin…
Like, at first I thought you said Fuck Bucket, and I thought this was going to be an entirely different sort of entry.
Oh man, that’s so great.
We could really use a Fuck It Bucket around these parts, as Adam’s stress level has reached dangerous shades of orange seeping into bloody, bloody red for the same reasons, and it’s actually been a pretty miserable couple of weeks around Chez Jonniker. (The vicious cycle: He’s stressed, he yells and crabs and bitches, which makes me stressed, which makes me crab and bitch and yell back at him, which makes him MORE stressed, and so on. It’s completely possible that one of us will explode in a pile of bloody disastrous explosion-mess very soon.)
Anyway, I think the Fuck It Bucket will only work if we stock ours with Valium, and maybe double doses of Xanax, but I love the concept.
I wanted to thank you for your last entry. I am a recovering drug addict and alcoholic and I too got sober because I got pregnant with my first child. Thank you so much for being so open and honest about it. Sometimes I think I am slipping back, but I remember the hell my life was when I was drinking and using. Now I feel guilty for being on prescription meds for legitimate illnesses. Go figure.
Hell yeah, a Fuck It Bucket is what I need right now, Linda! Rock on .
Two things: Is it wrong that I really, really want to know the injuries the dead man sustained? Did he get kicked? Fall off a ladder? Was there some sort of … squeezing? Also, I’d really like to know how the obituary writer handled it. And how much his family paid to keep his name out of the paper.
The David Sedaris fans should put down the books and buy the audio versions instead/in addition. Because as any Letterman watcher knows, the writing is funny, but the delivery is what makes it art.
Leslie: uh, you sure? Here you go: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Pinyan
I think it’s awesome that Washington State looks out for the chickens and smaller farm animals. I’d love to have a Fuck It Bucket but my oldest can read now and the youngest isn’t far behind so maybe that’s not such a good idea. I’ll take the candy though!
i LOVE LOVE LOVE David Sedaris!!!!! i’ve read all his books, listened to it all on dvd & seen him twice in person. I was DELIGHTED to see your ‘Fuck It Bucket’! You Can’t Kill the Rooster! : )
You are 100% right tho with your advice to JB (not 110% right, notice….) that sometimes you have to just say Fuck It, if you’re going to remain anywhere near sane. Worrying doesn’t change anything either. We just do the best we can with what is in front of us & if we’re doing the best we can, there is nothing more you can expect of yourself.
incidentally…do i see plastic army men in your Fuck It Bucket??
when i was in college and was going out of my mind with stress from semester end, i would draw a fuck it line on the floor (imaginary, of course) and physically step over it. no more cramming or paper BS’in would be had. it worked for me. (maybe not my grades, but FUCK IT, man!!)
Salvation. I’m making my own fuck it bucket! Brilliant idea! (Ew, sex with horses????)
They just moved me back to the main line development instead of the new stuff I have been working on. I am going to make myself a “Fuck It” bucket. Also, my kids like the way I tell a story vs their mom’s. I pretty much make it up as I go.
Leslie, Sundry: Is it wrong that I totally don’t feel sorry for that sick fuck? What’s next… I shudder to think. Is it also wrong that I’m glad he didn’t clutter up our emergency rooms with his sick fuckedness? I hope that horse came like a …. well, a racehorse. A Kentucky Derby winning racehorse. (Sorry — my animal activist tendencies just went up to Defcon 2 gazillion…)
On one hand, the Fuck It Bucket is genius and I could totally use one at work. On the other, if I did? I would never, ever, ever fit my ass into any of my pants every again. Then again, I could always just buy new pants.
Ah, Wikipedia, I love you so.
I was completely ass over tits, as Helen Mirren (and possibly Catherine the Great) would say, since I was imagining Dead Guy was, um, the giver and not the receiver. Now I feel the need for you to add plastic horsies to the bucket. And, evidently, a few Easter chicks.
I think we could use one at the group home I work at… Sometimes you just need to say FUCK IT! and blow off some steam dammit!
Here from Stir Fry Kitty for C&C Monday. I like the f*ckit bucket
I need one of those at work.
So I’m late to this thread, but let me give another plug for David Sedaris’ audio books – my husband got me the boxed set for Christmas last year (best gift ever) and I’ve listened to them multiple times because god damn it the way he reads them just kills. Funniest CDs ever…
I would just like to point out that it is the plastic army dudes that make this whole concept worthwhile.
Absolutely priceless.
“a bunch of little plastic army dudes, which, if you’re feeling spicy, can be placed in various compromising positions in a clear violation of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. (”SIR YES SIR! This cadet wishes he could quit you.”)”
Delurking to say that, that may have been the best thing I’ve read all day.
I think if I made a Fuck It bucket with yummy contents such as yours, I’d have to hang a Fuck It sign on the scale, as well.
Brokeback plastic army dudes > brilliant
Oh, those poor animals in Enumclaw…
Ah, how I love to say “Fuck it” and eat some motherfucking candy. We have one at home (we call it the Doodle’s candy bucket out loud, so she thinks it’s hers), but I really need to install one in the office. I’ll make room on my desk. Thanks for the idea. You’re so brilliant!! (And I really mean that.)
I heart the Fuck It bucket and the Rooster. I just listened to an interview with Sedaris on NPR the other day and it had me laughing out loud for the entire 3 mile walk home.
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