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Fuck It Bucket
April 19th, 2007
For Christmas last year, I asked for and received Amy Sedaris’s tabletop book, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence.
It’s pretty much what you’d expect from any book written by someone with her last name: completely insane, from the tips on how to be a good guest (”Never try to outdress the hostess unless you are the guest of honor or a transvestite”) to a savvy hostess (”When all is said and done, entertaining the grieving is not much different from normal entertaining, except for all the sobbing”).
Amy Sedaris is a righteous rib and her literary brainchild is defintely shortlisted for the Uppity Pulitzer. But the chapter that earns the Uppity Nobel Peace Prize is actually a contribution from her brother Paul-Not-David Sedaris:
The Fuck It Bucket.
How to make a fucket [sic] bucket: Get a 1 gallon paint pail, fill it with candy, write Fuck It Bucket on it. When shit gets you down, just say Fuck It, and eat some mother fuckin’ candy.
My Fuck It Bucket is seeing a lot of action these days.
There’s just too damn much bullshit going on. Everywhere, all the time. And the only rational, sane, intelligent, mature response to all the madness is: Fuck it.
I’m not talking embracing apathy here, although that certainly has its place (like about who is the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby. I can’t freaking believe that got so much press. Who the hell CARES, America? It’s not your fucking baby!).
No, I’m talking about a healthy letting go of those things that ordinary mortals simply cannot control. Which is to say, 99% of everything.
Too vague? OK, some examples:
Troubled college kid snaps and guns down handfuls of co-eds and teachers, reminding us once again how easy it is in this country to buy a gun and commit mass murder on a whim in a public place. How long will it be before I or someone I love meets the business end of a shot gun in a store, the post office, a street corner, or our own houses? Gotta live life, not fear it. Fuck it.
Our kids are inheriting quite the environmental mess, and all the new data indicate it’s global, inevitable and impossible to reverse within the next several generations. Appalled, I recycle, reuse, go green as much as I can (I’d recycle used Q-tips if I could), yet despite my efforts, a polar bear drowns every 24 hours. Every little bit helps, like tiny grains of sand that together make the beach. Fuck it.
The bloodbath rages on in Iraq, funded with my tax dollars; legislators pass bills that require a military exit strategy while the President of my country sticks out his lower lip, stamps his feet, and promises to veto what the majority of the country has clearly indicated they want. Damn it to hell - Iraq and Washington DC seem so far away. I voted, I write letters, I protest, I bad-mouth the religious Republican right at every opportunity. Fuck it.
Women’s right to choose is undermined on April 18 with the Supreme Court’s upholding of the “partial birth” abortion ban (despite the fact that there is no such thing as “partial birth” abortion). I can’t remember a time when abortion wasn’t legal, so the idea that it may be outlawed in my lifetime is shocking to me, nearly panic-inducing. Once again, I vote and write letters, I put my name on the “I had an abortion” list that Ms. Magazine published last year, I will blog until I the day I expire in support of women’s rights. Fuck it.
There’s a lot more where those come from, but you get the picture.
We all are responsible for our own little corner of the worlds. We do what we can to change the world, and if we do not, we have no right to bitch.
Occasionally, if the planets are aligned, our little corner will inspire others to fix up theirs in kinda the same way. Call it the ripple effect, if you want to mix metaphors.
But even if it doesn’t, we can’t worry about all that’s left undone. It will poison our lives, harden our hearts and shrivel our souls.
No, we just keep on living our lives, recycling our Q-tips, reviling the religious right stupid hypocritical lying bigoted asshats, and writing our ribby rants.
And stocking up on motherfuckin’ candy.
Technorati Tags: Amy Sedaris, Virginia Tech shootings, partial birth abortion ban, global warming, war in Iraq, fuck it bucket
Filed under Nuz, Rib Rants |10 Responses to “Fuck It Bucket”
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Stopped over to see how your week was going…
Need someone to eat candy with you?
I was going to make this really cool, cogent reply to your blog………and then I thought……..aww, fucket.
You might want to look for some of those little chocolates filled with bourbon!
Kaydee, you can eat candy with me anytime! What’s a good day for you?
Atta girl Jo!
Bayou, that’s the best idea since…well, since the Fuck It Bucket! I want to get shitfaced & buzzed at the same time!
Fuck It Therapy rocks! Now, where have I heard about it before?
I really needed to hear this today. Thanks and Fuck It.
P.S. this reminds me of a time when a friend and I used to say “fuck around”. Long story, but good times.
[…] Then I think you need to learn about the Fuck It Bucket. Uppity was kind enough to explain exactly what this cool-sounding idea is: Amy Sedaris is a righteous rib and her literary brainchild is defintely shortlisted for the Uppity Pulitzer. But the chapter that earns the Uppity Nobel Peace Prize is actually a contribution from her brother Paul-Not-David Sedaris: […]
I found your blog today from the blogswarm, and this post is just so damn therapeutic for me… thank you! A month ago when the whole K.Sierra thing started, I had a wondeful rage-inspired post… and this past month just sucked the life outta me. Fuck It Bucket, brilliant.
Sassywho, fuck it therapy has saved my life this year; I highly recommend it. Thanks for swinging by and hope to see you around again.
With a fucket bucket full of candy, you can bet your sweet ass I’ll be around