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Bog-Going Day

April 29, 2009

Imagine there was a day, a very official day, when all the crap from your life got sent to the bog. And, on that day, all the crap from your town got sent to the bog. And all the crappy things people do to one another were rounded up and sent to the bog. And all the crappy people who are just generally crappy were banished to the bog. This is Bog-Going Day, and I would like to carry the motion to have it added to the calendar.

On Bog-Going Day, I would purge my desk of half-crocked projects, poorly executed plans and bad ideas. Out with the stagnant, in with the fresh. My novel, for instance. That damn thing is so going to the bog on Bog-Going Day, all 50,0007 words, 86 pages of it. I’ve tried and tried to edit that thing, to wring some good from all that bad, but no. It should just go to the bog.

Another thing bound for the bog? Bad dates. Oh my gosh, have I had some of those. The expressionless lizard who stumbled into a personality extractor en route to dinner. The jackass I met online who claimed to be non-smoking, 5’9″, sweet, friendly, and looking for love, but proved himself a short, rude smoker looking for humping. The “nice guy” who tried to make me feel irresponsible and guilty. The one who threatened my cat. Done. No more bad dates, ok? All of them–to the bog.

Processed food. Unnecessary extravagance. Tasteless cookies and bland, dry cakes. Bike-lane parkers, speedy swervers and other bad drivers. The guy who picks on my friend Chris at his office. The client who left me a voice message, shouting that I am a liar and a failure and listed off what “the worst things are about people like you”, meaning me. And, the sandwich I ate for lunch today. It was on too-crusty bread that did that mean thing where it cuts the roof of your mouth while you eat and you don’t notice till you’re finished because the sandwich is so delicious. And now, your mouth is sore and the sandwich is gone, and there’s nothing to blame but your own voracious appetite for mean sandwiches.

All these things would get dumped in the bog, too. If only there was a Bog-Going Day.

3 Comments leave one →
  1. looka permalink
    April 30, 2009 7:40 pm

    Oh yeah, bog day comes around! Frequently… I made it a un-bogable habit to acompany the exited crap heaps on their way out with loud LOUD trashy/classy music. Just to underline how serious I am about fun – and how mean I am to mess with if you’re a thing trying to wreck my nerves.

  2. Carrie permalink
    April 30, 2009 8:29 pm

    Great idea. And hopefully, when curious archeologists decide to cut into the depths and see what was doing so many years ago, they’ll recognize the bad for the bad it is and make an exhibit to remind us all that sometimes things just have to GO.

  3. Amanda permalink
    April 30, 2009 8:35 pm

    It’ll be like when you see an ant farm behind glass, all their anty business on display, only it’ll be the shit and debris and crud of our time and our lives…and, a testament to our good sense the day we chucked it all out!

    : )

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