New Year's Resolutions Are For Bitches

I'm pretty sure I haven't had a New Year's Resolution in, like, 10 years. How the hell do you plan to improve on this level of awesome? You don't. You bottle it, and try to sell it to the jackasses watching 2AM infomercials. 

(Which, for the record, I totally got sucked into jewelry television last night... Because it's like, crack. It sucks you in, and it doesn't seem so bad at first... Just a little watching, just a little perusing. Yeah, you don't want to get caught doing it, but it's fine. No one can see you. You're just going to watch for a second. And suddenly two hours have gone by and you have no idea what the hell you just bought, but you know you're probably not going to tell anyone about the purchase.)

It's has come to my attention that yes, you can improve on awesome. You can get breast augmentation. Because bigger is always better. And if you say that's a lie, it's because you're either the proud owner of a chest flatter than a 12 year old boy, or you're hung like a newborn baby. Take your pick. I mean, I'm not getting a boob job. I have a hard enough time finding shirts that fit right that don't make me look 7 months pregnant. I don't need to add to the problem. And besides, I already can't see my feet. I get bigger boobs, I'll never see the ground at all. And top heavy? I'd probably fall over all the time. Good thing, though... I'd never have to worry about smashing my face into anything. But I might pop them if I fall on them, and that would be a total disappointment. What if I only popped one? Can you imagine how stupid I'd look? I would want to keep that picture! I'd probably have it painted onto a canvas to hang over my mantel. 

Okay, so regardless... I think NYR are stupid. They're another way for you to measure just how much you really suck at life. Or they give you a reason to get pretty drunk and bemoan your worthless life, because you can't force yourself to stick with spending 15 miserable minutes on the treadmill. 

Like, really, is making yourself a goal, on a well known and celebrated boozing holiday, REALLY a good idea? I can totally imagine that ending well... "You know... You know what my holiday... New... Relosutions... New Year's thing is going to be? I'm going to sleep with THAT guy. Over there. The one in the awesome shirt... That's a hell of a way to ring in the new year." "He's wearing a sports bra because he's drunk... Not a shirt." "That's... like, deep. Don't you think? Like, he's probably got such a sense of humor..." "No, he's probably wearing it because he has manboobs he wants to hide. Don't sleep with it." Yeah... so that's the best case scenario I see happening. 

But I totally wanna see that shitshow go down. So I can be glad it wasn't me this time...

Wait, I think I got sidetracked. Crap. I always try not to do that, but sometimes... It just happens. Maybe I could make a resolution not to do that. Then again, I'd totally fail at it right away. I'm too random to stay on topic for very long. Right about now, I'm guessing that you guys are wondering why you even read these blogs... Because let's face it, it ain't for the intellectual value. Except when I use 5 syllabic words like intellectual. 

So anyway... I don't like NYR. I think it's dumb to wait until the first day of the year to make a change in your life that you so desperately need. It's like setting a date to quit smoking. You smoke like a damn chimney right up until the day you quit, and then you find reasons to walk past the smoker's post so you can get your second-hand fix and you can still tell people you quit. Or starting a diet on the first. Well, yeah, that works well... Except you won't see the point in resisting that last half of the pie, since you're starting a diet next weak, so it's totally okay. Right? 

I prefer making resolutions throughout the year, so I can be disappointed in myself all year long, not just by January 12th, when I realize my love of food and my hatred of exercise are never going to reconcile themselves, so I may as well accept them for what they are. So that's what I do. I make up random dates to just stop doing things I have no intention of ever stopping, just so I can keep up the self-disappointment level. 

You ought to have been there for the day I decided to stop breathing oxygen... That was fun. Or the day I stopped eating anything made of water. I think I did that for two days. I ate ring pops and drank nothing at all until I got so dizzy and light headed, I thought I WAS a ring pop. Funny thing, there isn't ANYTHING to drink that isn't made with water in it. Just FYI. Don't give up water. That's a major fail. You'll probably hallucinate. You might find yourself talking to the bottles of 7UP at the grocery store, or naming all the eggplants in produce. 

Shit, I don't know what I was trying to say with this post. Not really. I'm completely confused about where I was going. I think I might have made a couple valid points, but really, probably not. It's kind of disappointing to realize I just spent two hours writing something that I will probably delete and rewrite, because this makes no sense whatsoeffingever. 

But on second thought, you know what? I ain't that dedicated. I don't give a shit. Y'all will read it. And y'all will giggle. Because I laughed more than a couple times in here. And y'all are just as nutters as I am. You just don't broadcast it like I do. 

SIDE NOTE:
As I write this, I'm sitting here, listening to B mock the sad scene where Marley dies in Marley and Me, fake tears and all, and I am realizing that perhaps I should make a resolution about teaching her more about empathy. Or feelings. Or not being an asshole, just in general.

She's seriously, I shit you not, sitting here with a fake cry face plastered on, yelling, "Goodbye, Marley. I hope you don't go to doggie Hell!" I don't know why she thinks there is a doggie Hell, I didn't teach her that. But this just goes to show you, she's obviously my kid. And I talk way too much. I think I'm going to buy her some ear plugs.

THIS IS WHY I CAN'T FORM COHERENT THOUGHTS!