Get out of my bed right when my alarm goes off. I know it does me no good at all, but I always turn my alarm off and lie there for an extra few minutes before heading to the shower to wash the previous day’s burdens off my back. And recently, I’ve developed this penchant for waking up a few minutes before my alarm goes off and turning it off in disgust. It’s depressing to wake up and see you only have three more minutes of allotted bed time. So on days like that it doesn’t go off at all. I just turn it off and throw my phone at the wall.
Stretch very well. I have become rigid and inactive in my late 20s, and I better turn things around soon or else my back is going to pay the price. I just hope that the first time I throw it out it’s going to be while I’m getting laid.
Understand why people make such a huge f**king deal about Beyoncé.
Get off when I am drunk unless I am having sex with Vanessa Hudgens.
Dance well. Unless it’s a slow dance where we just sway back and forth. I’m OK with those, or at least I used to be back in high school.
Add, subtract, divide, multiply or anything else that has to do with math without a calculator’s assistance. But, like, why would I need these skills anyway?
Read while shredding calories on an elliptical or exercise bike.
Stop eating if I start after midnight, like some sort of humanoid gremlin.
Poach an egg. I usually also can’t do a decent omelet or over-easy flip. Which is unfortunate because I really love eggs.
Load a gun. I shot one once, but it was already loaded. I’m mostly a pacifist, and my dad owns a grocery store, so if I want some meat or whatever I can just go get it there instead of shooting something and then chasing it through the woods all day.
Change a car’s tire or oil. My dad showed me both of these things but then I forgot and went back to concentrating on things that AAA couldn’t do for me.
Imagine what sex might be like if I had a vagina. It seems like it would be pretty rad, though.
Get too into summertime anymore. I used to adore the beginning of summer. But then I realized that this was because I didn’t have to go to school for three months. If they would have given us three months off during the school year, I would’ve been in love with winter, too. And probably a lot better at videogames.
Dunk a basketball. I used to be able to, but then I found out that on the day-to-day, eating and drinking whatever you want brings more happiness and fulfillment. I can still slap the hell out of that glass, though.
Win a fistfight against most able-bodied men. I have never been in a fistfight, so I’m just guessing here, but I suppose not ever having been in one immediately stacks the odds against me.
Convince myself that I even want to be an NFL fan anymore. I mean, that is one fucked-up organization right now.
Sext well. Again, not something I’ve really done much of. Like fistfighting. Except not having sexted much is kind of sad. (Or is it?)
Do my own taxes. Even the calculator doesn’t help me here.
Make the playoffs in my fantasy football league. Frankly, I don’t even understand how the waiver wire works.
Read my own handwriting, sometimes. Which is a problem, given my profession.
Comprehend how my neighbor takes so much shit from his wife. Even if she may be responsible for his green card acquisition.
Sleep well with someone else in my bed. It just gets so hot and crowded, and then I get bothered.
Handle this NBC Peter Pan Live. I feel like putting Christopher Walken and the girl from GIRLS against each other as mortal enemies is going to end up being unintentionally comedic.
Budget responsibly. This combined with my mathematical inadequacies and my inability to do and file my own taxes leaves me wondering how long it will be before I have to figure out how to declared bankruptcy.
Get past the fact that my high school prom sucked, and that I never threw a legendary rager for all of my friends when my parents were out of town. IT COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THE BEST TIMES OF OUR LIVES!
Keep my cholesterol down without the help of Lipitor. I may have to give up my mantra, which is “Life is short. Eat more bacon.” Or else my life will become too short for my taste.
Iron clothing or even fold it that well. I am waiting for modern fashion to catch up with me and realize that wrinkles should always be totes in.
Commit to a lasting relationship. But I’m working on it!
Get over my fear of having my heart broken into a million little pieces. This is probably very interstitially related to No. 28.
Ever describe what I desire from a haircut in a way that the barber will understand and execute.