So, this is pretty much how I feel.
Last January, I made a resolution to write on this blog every day. Even if it was something stupid, it didn't matter. The whole point was to force me into being better at follow through. Well, I completely dropped the ball on that whole write-every-day follow-through thing but totally nailed the stupid part so, partial victory yeah? What I mostly managed was to give myself another task at which to fail. As if I didn't have enough of those already.
It's this experience that has made me start to wonder if we aren't going about New Year's resolutions all wrong. It's kind of ridiculous to wait until January every year to decide to do something about our problems or to fix something about ourselves. If you can't commit to making yourself better in the middle of March, or the end of June, then what makes you think you can manage it just because it's January 1st? Why do you think those money grubbing bastards at Wal-Mart have the exercise equipment front and center at the start of the year but it disappears completely by Easter, replaced by chocolate bunnies and Peeps in every color? That's because they know we will have given up on our fitness goals by then and be desperate to assuage our guilt by cramming marshmallow treats and candy coated chocolate in our cram holes. That's why.
Think that one through, Jack.
There is nothing magical about January, people. As months go it really kind of sucks.
So, I propose we stop setting ourselves up for failure and make resolutions that will find us patting ourselves on the back all year rather than obsessing over the best method for committing Hara-Kari by May.
At the latest.
With this new way of doing things in mind, I am feeling resolvier
and resolvier by the minute.
Oh goody.
This year I resolve to:
-drink more coffee. With creamer and sugar and anything else I like in it. And if by anything else I mean a whole fifth of vodka or enough Baileys to kill a pig, no judgement. I have 4 kids. By the middle of this year, three will be teenagers.
-buy more scrapbook paper. Because it's pretty and I like it and it's pretty and...it's pretty. As in, spend the GNP of a small but moderately well off African nation on paper. When we have to start stacking it on the bed, (about 3 1/2 weeks from now) it will just make bedtime that much more fun.
-be even more amused by inappropriate jokes rather that less. If prostitutes don't want me to find them funny, they should find a different profession.
-drink mind-boggling amounts of Pepsi and Coke. Does it really matter how fat I get if my hands are curled into useless fists anyway? Answer: No.
-stop wasting time and energy on trivialities like sweeping the floor. That's what ants and mice are for. Same goes for counter-tops and dirty dishes and...well, everything.
-use more curse words. Because they amuse me and make me feel better. Always.
-outwardly mock my fellow human beings more. Let's face it, people are stupid and I really am going to Hell anyway.
-run with any craft project that comes to mind. Trust me, there are about 1000 rolling around up there. If we end up with twice as many half-finished craft projects piled on every surface, so be it. It's NOT MY FAULT I can't play with paper 27 hours a day.
-continue to make fun of and joke with Lisa what's-her-name. Because once you give my digits to the sister missionaries, all bets are off. AND because if I can still laugh about it, I won't give into the urge to find her and stab her with a spork every time she texts me.
-tweet more. A LOT more. Not because anybody wants me to but because it makes me happy to know that all 4 of my followers know when I am at the ghetto Wal-Mart on 3rd west or have seen a low quality picture of my orange chicken from Panda Express.
and last but not least,
-eat more bacon. As in, eat Oprah's weight in bacon. That kind of eat more bacon. My arteries are already pretty pissed at me anyway.
