If someone were to ask me what use I have for a mop right now, I would simply say less than that of a bucket. I rarely clean my floors with a mop and though the two go hand in hand, a bucket is certainly more handy.
Bucket. Bucket List. My best friend calls storage tubs buckets no matter what size they are. I got my kids little buckets to play with when the were small. They had little shovels. Technically they were pails, but I’m not sure of the difference between a bucket and a pail.
A container that one puts sand in. I love going to the beach and building sand castles with buckets or just transporting the sand. Buckets make great hats too! haha. :)
Buckets are great, They can carry stuff. Sand, water, small animals. And they last forever. Plus if you’re short, you can stand on them. How brilliant is that? I love buckets, but not when they break. At least there’s a song you can sing about that. Plus, duct tape can mend anything.
the bucket isn’t for kicking. it’s for fulfilling beautiful things like love and kindness and art. not just letting it fall after kicking it yourself. love is a beautiful thing, and it should not be kicked because of stupid decisions. let the bucket fall by itself.
Bucket. Once upon a time there was a bucket who was lonely because no child wanted to play with it. They said it was too hairy. The bucket was confused because buckets aren’t that hairy, but the child confused smooth with hairy. The end.
Once upon a time, there was a bucket. This bucket was the prince of a small kingdom called Waterville. It was a cute little town filled nice peasants. They loved their king.
When you think of life, you think of your past, your present, and your future and what you will be and where you will end up and simply how everything will come about. That’s why i have a bucket list to help me stir up ides that get my life interesting and new and exciting.
“Why?” I plead, but you look at me with dark eyes and shake your head.
“Bucket,” You whisper, and I break out in sobs. I have pleaded with you before to give me new words, but you do not whisper such. You just keep whispering the word ‘bucket’. Does our relationship mean nothing to you, my sweet?
I found you and fell in love, but now I am sad and filled with disappointment. What has our relationship come to? I offer you my words, my love, my poetry. And you just whisper the same thing. Bucket. What is it about buckets, my love?
Claude turned over the bucket, sand spilling out from underneath it and Juno looked up at him, a glare on her face but a smile in her eyes. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You ruined my sand castle doing that,” She replied.
bucket rhymes with f*ck it. There is a hole in the bucket dear liza, dear liza. well, f*ck it then. Im gonna make a product called the f*ck it bucket, and it will make MILLIIONS.
I wish I had a bucket full of money right now. Not one dollar bills or quarters or, god forbid, pennies, but a bucket full of hundred dollar bills. I am in desperate need of a vacation. AWAY from the children. AWAY from the apartment. My boyfriend can come, but only if we can go to a beach somewhere where we don’t know ANYONE and can just sit on the sand, swim in the ocean and drink margaritas and pina coladas all day.
Fuck it. With all this shit all over the place, I can’t even find a bucket to vomit into. All the booze in my systems is taking it’s toll. I can’t even figure out how to stop it. I just go to the bathroom then, but my roommate is on the loo. Shit. It’s gonna come up. Desperation, I vomit on the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, booze and tots from the bar. Shit shit shit, my roommates are gonna hate me for this. Well, their fault for leaving a sink of dirty dishes. Might as well wash them now I guess. I don’t know how I got into this situation? It sucks, rinsing and washing my vomit from food caked dirty dishes. It’s degrading. This is the worst birthday ever. I am NEVER getting this drunk again. Fuck, and there’s the fucking bucket. Really? After all that it’s been in the kitchen this entire time. Fuck! I throw a dish across the room and it shatters into tiny pieces. Whatever, we have way too many plates in this fucking house anyway. I pick up the pieces slowly, my head still spinning from the booze. Fuck fuck fuck. Can’t fucking do this. I hate this. Shit, now my roommates are in the kitchen to check up on me, they see and smell the vomit and rush out disgusted. Great, now I will forever be known as “that guy who vomited in the kitchen sink”. This freaking sucks. How did it come to this? I know how. It happened because I wanted to get fucking smashed for once since it was my birthday . Shit I don’t know what got into me? Fuck, the vomit stinks. I throw the shattered pieces in the bucket and continue to rinse and wash, rinse and wash. It’ll take me at least to cycles to get the vomit smell off of most of these dishes. Fuck, I wish someone would just help me instead of laughing in the living room over, dude he’s totally wasted, vomiting in the sink and washing dishes. This fucking sucks, It’s my fucking birthday!! God….how long have I been standing here, rinsing and washing, rinsing and washing. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this. It’s coming up again. But this time I’m ready. I throw the pieces into the trash and vomit directly into the bucket this time. Lot less messy, easier to clean. My roommate finally comes out of the loo and I stagger to the toilet to dump my booze waste. Ugh this is awful. I am never getting this drunk again.
Wow! “Just great”, i thought. First i step in bubblegum now i get my foot stuck in a bucket. Isn’t life great? Your kids hate you, your wife hate you. What is it worth living anymore? “Hey dude can you hand me my bucket?”, said the overly chubby guy next to me. I debated this. “Yeah, sure”
“Give me the bucket quickly.” John shouted shivering from the pain his twisted guts were giving him. He barely finished his sentence and she was here, leaving the bucket in front of him. Few short jumps and she was standing in safe distance. He looked at her with guilt in his eyes. “I changed my mind … It went out downstairs.” he said calmly pointing at brown spill on his pants.
theres a hole in my bucket dear lisa. says my mum. red bucket take it to the beach its the child hood dream just dont forget the spade. building dreams and happy memories
buckets hold things. they can hold seashells, flowers, anything you want them to. they can be made out of all different colored plastic. i always use buckets when i go to the beach, that way i can make many sandcastles.
The little girl squealed as she ran from the pond, old rusty bucket in hand. The bucket swayed back and forth, spilling dirty, slightly red-tinted water across the ground. The fish in the bucket were displeased, more than likely. However, it would be her mother who was the most displeased of all; though in that moment, the girl was experiencing pure joy.
The bucket sat overturned where the young girl had left it. She had discarded it to run off into the field, letting the waving grasses tickle her bare feet. She flopped down on her back and looked up at the clouds. Her chubby finger pointed out puffy white rabbits and hearts in the blue sky.
I keep thinking about making a bucket list. A list of all the things I really must do before I die. But I keep putting it off and I think that if I don’t soon start thinking about and putting into action these things it may be too late when I’m finally ready.
it`s about wedding. the bride drops the flower bucket. i think it`s very nice and funny. just do it. i see lots of people in a ballroom. and friends :)
I ALREADY DID THIS ONE, AND NPW I AM PISSED.
SOMEONE CALL THE COPS!
CAUSE IM GOING TO MURDER THIS WEBSITE!
AHH I NEED TO GO COMIT SUICIDE.
HMM..
SUICIDE BOMBER!!!
YES!!
BIN LADEN!
Sandcastles, sea and surfing was the order of the day.As she kneeled down vigorously patting down the sand in her bucket, she couldn’t help wishing mommy and daddy let the family stay here forever.
Once upon a time, there was a tiny man named bucket.
This man had no friends, and was made fun of all the time.
He was fat, too. and ended up eating his boyfriend. Yes, he was gay. And he had a sexual momma and a mean daddy. the end!!!
At Billy’s feet was a bucket that waited for any standard level of spew to reach its rim. He was sitting upright in his bed now, head lowered so far that his chin nearly touched his chest. To his left, his brothers were sleeping soundly, the ale not seeming to have affected them nearly as drastically.
“I need to brew myself something to help my head,” Billy thought to himself, as he tried with an enormous effort to stand up and walk properly.
bucket list, kick the bucket, bucket of chowder, bucket of milk, a bucket of ice cream would be gross, the chum bucket never was successful, plankton should have been able to steal the secret formula, secret sauce on hamburgers is almost always something dumb like A1. I’m done now.
Bucket lists. I never understood their purpose, because I’d ever met a person who’d completed one. It should be named, “Things I Will Never Do But Wish I Had” list instead. A bucket of things that is dropped into the ocean and forgotten about forever.
There was a hole in the bucket, which made it really difficult to carry anything.
I tried to fill the hole.
with glue,
with clay.
Nothing worked.
the water kept falling through the hole.
What could I do,
with such a useless bucket.
a child on the beach
I held a bucket
brimful;
plastic handle
quivered;
in this small water
all the gravity and mass
of an ocean
returning to itself
If someone were to ask me what use I have for a mop right now, I would simply say less than that of a bucket. I rarely clean my floors with a mop and though the two go hand in hand, a bucket is certainly more handy.
once was a man who enjoyed lunch. his lunch was always in a bucket. the bucket was yellow and rusty and only had half of a handle.
i think of bucket lists.
but i don’t have a bucket list.
i have a f*ck it list though.
and that is a mile long.
Bucket. Bucket List. My best friend calls storage tubs buckets no matter what size they are. I got my kids little buckets to play with when the were small. They had little shovels. Technically they were pails, but I’m not sure of the difference between a bucket and a pail.
Rusty buckets, rusty nails and old, damaged car parts lay everywhere. A mangy cat crawled out from underneath, yowling.
A container that one puts sand in. I love going to the beach and building sand castles with buckets or just transporting the sand. Buckets make great hats too! haha. :)
Buckets are great, They can carry stuff. Sand, water, small animals. And they last forever. Plus if you’re short, you can stand on them. How brilliant is that? I love buckets, but not when they break. At least there’s a song you can sing about that. Plus, duct tape can mend anything.
bucket is full
happy, brimming over with joy
raining, cold, and lonely
drip drip drip
empty and cold hearted
like me
the bucket isn’t for kicking. it’s for fulfilling beautiful things like love and kindness and art. not just letting it fall after kicking it yourself. love is a beautiful thing, and it should not be kicked because of stupid decisions. let the bucket fall by itself.
Bucket. Once upon a time there was a bucket who was lonely because no child wanted to play with it. They said it was too hairy. The bucket was confused because buckets aren’t that hairy, but the child confused smooth with hairy. The end.
i think of bucket lists.
but i don’t have a bucket list.
i have a fuck it list though.
and that is a mile long.
Once upon a time, there was a bucket. This bucket was the prince of a small kingdom called Waterville. It was a cute little town filled nice peasants. They loved their king.
The End. (:
When you think of life, you think of your past, your present, and your future and what you will be and where you will end up and simply how everything will come about. That’s why i have a bucket list to help me stir up ides that get my life interesting and new and exciting.
“Why?” I plead, but you look at me with dark eyes and shake your head.
“Bucket,” You whisper, and I break out in sobs. I have pleaded with you before to give me new words, but you do not whisper such. You just keep whispering the word ‘bucket’. Does our relationship mean nothing to you, my sweet?
I found you and fell in love, but now I am sad and filled with disappointment. What has our relationship come to? I offer you my words, my love, my poetry. And you just whisper the same thing. Bucket. What is it about buckets, my love?
Can’t you tell me nothing more?
Can’t you whisper something sweeter to me?
Why buckets, my love?
Why do you not love me like you used to?
Claude turned over the bucket, sand spilling out from underneath it and Juno looked up at him, a glare on her face but a smile in her eyes. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“You ruined my sand castle doing that,” She replied.
bucket rhymes with f*ck it. There is a hole in the bucket dear liza, dear liza. well, f*ck it then. Im gonna make a product called the f*ck it bucket, and it will make MILLIIONS.
I wish I had a bucket full of money right now. Not one dollar bills or quarters or, god forbid, pennies, but a bucket full of hundred dollar bills. I am in desperate need of a vacation. AWAY from the children. AWAY from the apartment. My boyfriend can come, but only if we can go to a beach somewhere where we don’t know ANYONE and can just sit on the sand, swim in the ocean and drink margaritas and pina coladas all day.
hole in my bucket dear liza dear liza bucket list full of water toad in a hole half full not half empty space, negative space, bucket and spade,
Fuck it. With all this shit all over the place, I can’t even find a bucket to vomit into. All the booze in my systems is taking it’s toll. I can’t even figure out how to stop it. I just go to the bathroom then, but my roommate is on the loo. Shit. It’s gonna come up. Desperation, I vomit on the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, booze and tots from the bar. Shit shit shit, my roommates are gonna hate me for this. Well, their fault for leaving a sink of dirty dishes. Might as well wash them now I guess. I don’t know how I got into this situation? It sucks, rinsing and washing my vomit from food caked dirty dishes. It’s degrading. This is the worst birthday ever. I am NEVER getting this drunk again. Fuck, and there’s the fucking bucket. Really? After all that it’s been in the kitchen this entire time. Fuck! I throw a dish across the room and it shatters into tiny pieces. Whatever, we have way too many plates in this fucking house anyway. I pick up the pieces slowly, my head still spinning from the booze. Fuck fuck fuck. Can’t fucking do this. I hate this. Shit, now my roommates are in the kitchen to check up on me, they see and smell the vomit and rush out disgusted. Great, now I will forever be known as “that guy who vomited in the kitchen sink”. This freaking sucks. How did it come to this? I know how. It happened because I wanted to get fucking smashed for once since it was my birthday . Shit I don’t know what got into me? Fuck, the vomit stinks. I throw the shattered pieces in the bucket and continue to rinse and wash, rinse and wash. It’ll take me at least to cycles to get the vomit smell off of most of these dishes. Fuck, I wish someone would just help me instead of laughing in the living room over, dude he’s totally wasted, vomiting in the sink and washing dishes. This fucking sucks, It’s my fucking birthday!! God….how long have I been standing here, rinsing and washing, rinsing and washing. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this. It’s coming up again. But this time I’m ready. I throw the pieces into the trash and vomit directly into the bucket this time. Lot less messy, easier to clean. My roommate finally comes out of the loo and I stagger to the toilet to dump my booze waste. Ugh this is awful. I am never getting this drunk again.
Wow! “Just great”, i thought. First i step in bubblegum now i get my foot stuck in a bucket. Isn’t life great? Your kids hate you, your wife hate you. What is it worth living anymore? “Hey dude can you hand me my bucket?”, said the overly chubby guy next to me. I debated this. “Yeah, sure”
“Give me the bucket quickly.” John shouted shivering from the pain his twisted guts were giving him. He barely finished his sentence and she was here, leaving the bucket in front of him. Few short jumps and she was standing in safe distance. He looked at her with guilt in his eyes. “I changed my mind … It went out downstairs.” he said calmly pointing at brown spill on his pants.
theres a hole in my bucket dear lisa. says my mum. red bucket take it to the beach its the child hood dream just dont forget the spade. building dreams and happy memories
buckets hold things. they can hold seashells, flowers, anything you want them to. they can be made out of all different colored plastic. i always use buckets when i go to the beach, that way i can make many sandcastles.
The little girl squealed as she ran from the pond, old rusty bucket in hand. The bucket swayed back and forth, spilling dirty, slightly red-tinted water across the ground. The fish in the bucket were displeased, more than likely. However, it would be her mother who was the most displeased of all; though in that moment, the girl was experiencing pure joy.
old tin can from his sardine lunch. he put live bait in it. talk about irony
The bucket sat overturned where the young girl had left it. She had discarded it to run off into the field, letting the waving grasses tickle her bare feet. She flopped down on her back and looked up at the clouds. Her chubby finger pointed out puffy white rabbits and hearts in the blue sky.
I keep thinking about making a bucket list. A list of all the things I really must do before I die. But I keep putting it off and I think that if I don’t soon start thinking about and putting into action these things it may be too late when I’m finally ready.
I like when buckets are filled with seashells and sand. blah blah blah,, one time I put sand crabs in a bucket. It was fun. I hope to do it again.
THE RAIN FILLED THE BUCKET TO THE RIM. DROP BY DROP IT FILLED, UNTIL IT SPILLED OVER THE SIDES.
it`s about wedding. the bride drops the flower bucket. i think it`s very nice and funny. just do it. i see lots of people in a ballroom. and friends :)
I ALREADY DID THIS ONE, AND NPW I AM PISSED.
SOMEONE CALL THE COPS!
CAUSE IM GOING TO MURDER THIS WEBSITE!
AHH I NEED TO GO COMIT SUICIDE.
HMM..
SUICIDE BOMBER!!!
YES!!
BIN LADEN!
Sandcastles, sea and surfing was the order of the day.As she kneeled down vigorously patting down the sand in her bucket, she couldn’t help wishing mommy and daddy let the family stay here forever.
Once upon a time, there was a tiny man named bucket.
This man had no friends, and was made fun of all the time.
He was fat, too. and ended up eating his boyfriend. Yes, he was gay. And he had a sexual momma and a mean daddy. the end!!!
At Billy’s feet was a bucket that waited for any standard level of spew to reach its rim. He was sitting upright in his bed now, head lowered so far that his chin nearly touched his chest. To his left, his brothers were sleeping soundly, the ale not seeming to have affected them nearly as drastically.
“I need to brew myself something to help my head,” Billy thought to himself, as he tried with an enormous effort to stand up and walk properly.
bucket list, kick the bucket, bucket of chowder, bucket of milk, a bucket of ice cream would be gross, the chum bucket never was successful, plankton should have been able to steal the secret formula, secret sauce on hamburgers is almost always something dumb like A1. I’m done now.
Bucket lists. I never understood their purpose, because I’d ever met a person who’d completed one. It should be named, “Things I Will Never Do But Wish I Had” list instead. A bucket of things that is dropped into the ocean and forgotten about forever.
there once was a bucket he was from nantucket he wanted to hero but i lost motivation and said fuk-it.
My late father in law was a musician. He used to say about some not as talented musicians that “he can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
There was a hole in the bucket, which made it really difficult to carry anything.
I tried to fill the hole.
with glue,
with clay.
Nothing worked.
the water kept falling through the hole.
What could I do,
with such a useless bucket.