The fuck-it list: The things you didn’t accomplish over the summer and why they would have sucked anyways


By Gary Lim


Well, shit. Summer’s almost over, isn’t it? I mean, sure, you have August, but once you account for all the time you plan to spend lamenting the end of summer, coupled with the week that it’ll probably rain, not to mention exams, you’re looking at about, let’s see . . . carry the three . . . about 37 minutes of summer.

Where did all that time go? I mean, yeah, there was the weekend you spent lying around the house with the curtains drawn, drifting in and out of consciousness. But you only did that about five or six times, tops. There’s just no way that could be it.

Anyways, what happened, man? Like, two weeks ago, you were all hopped up on summer, all ready to soak up that sunshine, excited at the prospect of wearing shorts and getting some colour in your almost ghostly translucent skin.  But now look at you, on a bus (presumably), reading the newspaper. Pathetic.

Still, it’s not too late, there’s still a little bit of time left.  No, not enough for you to fulfill any of your aspirations or goals, but just enough for you to realize it would’ve ended terribly. Because all those best laid plans of yours were pretty terrible anyways.

Failed Summer Resolution #1: Hit the beach

Oh yeah, hey, let’s round up the gang, hop in the back of the jalopy and cruise down to the waterfront. Don’t forget to pick up some burgers at Pop’s or Jughead will totally flip! The point I’m trying to make is that the last time it was fun to head down to the beach, Kennedy was in the White House, the Vietnam War was just starting, and certain words from Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were considered totally fine to say in public.

Objectively, the beach sucks. It’s just where land meets the water. Now, how exactly did that become the pinnacle of vacationing?  Maybe in Maui or the French Riviera, that’d be a good idea, but have you been to a Vancouver beach?

Cold, gray, jagged: like a night with my ex-wife. A beach is where you go when you want to spend the next two weeks picking sand out of various crevices. It’s gritty, crowded, and a breeding ground for parasites — also like my ex-wife.

Failed Summer Resolution #2: Read More

Everyone says they want to “read more,” but no one really wants to. At this point, it’s just a phrase that’s been so mindlessly repeated over and over again, it loses all meaning.

The main reason that people say they want to read more is to put on an air of sophistication, like how you don’t pronounce the T at the end of Monet or why you leave old copies of Time magazine on your coffee table.

Reading is just a way to make you feel better after not reading for a long time.  In that way, it’s like going to the gym. Also like hitting the gym, reading carries with it a butt-load of reading accessories and paraphernalia.  Kindles, book lights, bookmarks, reading performance-enhancers, and the list goes on.

I’m not going to deny that there might be some pleasure gained from reading, but com’on, smartphones have that beat by a country mile, which is an indeterminate distance, often longer than one would expect. I looked that up on my smartphone.

Failed Summer Resolution #3: Get that awesome summer job

Everyone wants that one awesome summer job; somewhere you can put in a chill couple of hours a week, and line your pockets with some extra spending money.  While we’re talking about pipe dreams, I’d like a wall-mounted corndog dispensary, like something you’d put in a gerbil cage, but for people.

Chill summer job? How about any job? Long gone are the days of “Help Wanted” signs and the circling of “Want” ads. Now you’re competing with PhD candidates for the coveted spot of coffee-slinger at your neighborhood Starbucks.

If you do find some extra work in the summer, it’s going to be far from chill. Businesses that hire in the summer do so because they need the extra manpower to accommodate extra work; the same logic applies to stores hiring people to help with the Christmas rush.

Chances are, you’re going to wind up at one of those thinly-veiled pyramid schemes selling, health and diet drinks or going door-to-door and convincing people to switch their hydro to some coal-based power source.

Failed Summer Resolution #4: Road Trip!

A road trip? Are you mad? Greater men (and women, because, you know, it’s the 21st century) than you have tried and failed.

Road trips are a logistical nightmare. First thing’s first, whose car are you to take? Greg’s? Well, technically, that’s his mom’s car, so that’s a no go. What about Lisa’s Beetle? Yeah, that would be fine . . . if we were midget clowns. Steve’s piece of crap probably won’t make it to the border before breaking down.

Never mind, then. Okay, how are we going to split the gas? It would be fair to split it evenly, but I don’t think I should have to pay as much as ol’ Churley. I mean, the guy easily has 100 pounds over me . . . and so forth. Pair that with driving schedules, and your friends’ apparently peanut-sized bladders, you’ll be lucky if no one snaps and drives the car into a utility pole just to end it all.


So, you see, it’s a good thing you didn’t waste your summer with these plans. Aren’t you glad I showed you the error of your ways? You can thank me later.

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