Caution: naughty language ahead! 

 

I’ll probably never meet the Dalai Lama.

I know it’s not completely inconceivable, which wouldn’t normally stop me from trying to make stuff happen. I did buy $20 worth of Powerball tickets last week. I could’ve been a happy-go-lucky billionaire today, but I didn’t get more than one number right in one line.

Don’t gamble, friends.

It’s true, chances are I’ll never meet the guy. He’s far away, and somehow I doubt His Holiness is about to wander into my yoga class in sleepy Silver Lake, California. If he did, I could only hope he would Yelp it with an awesome review.

And that’s exactly why I don’t have a bucket list. I feel like I’d be setting myself up for frustration, considering if I did have one, the top two things on my list might be meeting the Dalai Lama and being handed a substantial sum of money for doing nothing. I know it’s supposed to be a tad more realistic than that…or is it?

I’m already frustrated.

Whatever, the lottery can suck it. I’m happy without all that stupid cash. And you know what and who else can suck it?

Bullies. Blowhards. Money grubbers.

People who try to make me do stuff based on anxiety and fear, fear of what I may not understand or what might happen, including my friend who once tricked me into taking a bite out of a raw clove of garlic when he told me “it tastes like candy.” 

It doesn’t.

This one’s for you. You can all suck it.

Suck it, book burners.

Suck it, Ann Coulter.

If you’re that one guy who hogged the Asteroids machine last weekend at my friend’s 50th birthday party—you, sir, can suck it.

Now, I’m not saying this to be like, “die, hateful dickheads!” Or “yo mama, she be stank.” It’s more like, “the world is a mess, so don’t be douchey.”

I’ll leave out the obvious ones—the terrorists and the warmongers and the insurance company who once tried to sue me when an electrical fire broke out in my house, apparently thanks to a rat that had chewed through a power chord. (But they can all suck it, too.)

I will say this: suck it, political extremists. And go, Anonymous!

Suck it, harmful chemical food additives, like Aspartame and Red #40. You’re making us all sick.

Suck it, gangsta anything. (Unless it’s a gangsta nap, the kind you take at 11:00 at night.) I’m sick of seeing violence glorified.

Suck it, people with blatant disrespect for the down-and-out. You know that guy begging for change on the freeway offramp? He’s your brother in this life. Maybe give him a sandwich, because hunger can suck it.

Yes, I dyed my hair blue the other day. So suck it!

Suck it, ignorance, disease, adult onesies, Kim Jong Un, AIDS, twerking, self-deprecation, rejectors of gay marriage licenses, depression, “nipple pants,” addiction and hypocrisy.

Suck.

It.

Suck it to people who can’t just let other people be who they are. So what if your neighbors are gay, pot-smoking, abortion-rights activists? We’re never going to be all the same. Get used to it.

Suck it, body image-based insecurity. I’ve had enough of you.

Suck it, Tetris. You are way too addicting.

Suck it, budget makers, for continually pulling funds from music and art programs in schools. May your garages be filled with preteen ensembles performing “Grease” every weekend until the song “Summer Nights” curdles your last nerve. Then you might change your mind.

Suck it, you who might drink and drive when you can easily take an Uber.

Suck it, decaf. You’re not real coffee.

Suck it, Arizona. You’re way too freakin’ hot.

Suck it to the guy who tried to break into my apartment 1992 when I was living in San Francisco. Suck it for making me paranoid.

Suck it, honkies. Not silly white people—just drivers who unnecessarily honk their horn at any given opportunity. It’s rude.

And you can suck it too, if you’re not handicapped and you park in handicap spaces with a questionably-acquired handicap placard.

Suck it, inventor of inane slang terms like “cray cray.” “Totally bitchin'” still works just fine. So does “hey, hey hey!” Also, the “namaste, bitches” thing can suck it.

Suck it if you think we spoil our dog because we get her a sitter when we’re gone for like, six hours. That’s right.

Yes, my ringtone is the theme to “The Exorcist.” Suck it, Satan!

Top Ramen can suck it. It’s gross.

Suck it if you think you’re not special. I bet there are at least 200 people you can call right now who would tell you otherwise.

Suck it, white chocolate. You’re not even chocolate. You’re just hardened creamy sugar. You are yummy, but you’re not chocolate.

Suck it, ASPCA commercial with Sarah McLachlan. I know you’re creating awareness for the animals who need it, but it’s incredibly upsetting. You can have all my money if you make it stop, and so I don’t have to cover my ears and do the la-la-la-la-la thing.

The “Lost” finale can suck it too.

Suck it, Jar Jar Binks. You’re done.

Suck it, 2011. You know why.

“Shutter shades.” Like, really? How do you see out of those things?! They can suck it.

#unapologetic can suck it. #zenandtheartofdontbeadick can stay.

Suck it if Adele doesn’t make your soul weep with heartache and melancholy and a thousand other sorrows. What an angel.

Suck it, death. You’re just an illusion. A painful one, but still…

You know what else can suck it? Not going for your dreams because you let life freak you out so badly. And being alive but not really experiencing authentic, wild-hearted life and love and happiness.

Go make stuff happen.

Because if you believe in yourself, then everything else can suck it.

 

 

 

 

 

More awesome from Anne: 

Ride that Vinyasa Like a Hot B*tch.

A Brain, an Athlete, a Basket Case, a Princess & a Criminal walk into Yoga Class. 

 

 

Author: Anne Clendening

Editor: Renée Picard