YOU KNOW WHAT IRRITATES ME? When I come across a book with a title such as “1001 Things to Do/See/Eat/Scratch Your Back With Before You Die.” Really, do I need to be reminded that I am going to die someday? Also, who really has the time/resources to visit/experience all 1001? Thanks to these mindless works, am I going to feel somewhat less fulfilled upon my passing because there were ___ places that I failed to reach?
I can already see myself at heaven’s gates (granted that I go there, which I am crossing my fingers), pleading with the gatekeeper to let me in, to which he argues, “I can’t; you never made it to [insert 5-Star hotel here] in Torres Del Paine, Chile.”
Shnay!
Who really has time for this? P. Diddy? His stepson (who threw the most ridiculous Sweet “Stunna 16” party that I have ever seen in the history of MTV)? Oprah? Well — certainly not me.
Then again, maybe I should stop judging books by covers.
approximatelyes.com 