12.31.03: New Year’s Resolutions ‹ Blog

Every New Year is the direct descendant, isn’t it, of a long line of proven criminals?

– Ogden Nash, “Good-by, Old Year, You Oaf”

New Year’s Resolutions

December 31, 2003

Before I list my resolutions for 2004, let’s see how well I obeyed my list of resolutions for 2003...

I will stop whining.
Ah, why do I need to stop whining? Am I really that annoying? Geez, if you people would just listen to me when I talk, I wouldn’t have to whine...

I will stop being mean to customers at work.
Well, I have gotten nicer to the customers. The side effect of all that repressed rage has turned out to be depression and massive panic attacks, though.

I will cut down on swearing.
Fuck that.

I will be nicer to my cat.
I’ve stopped calling her “demon spawn.” That’s about as far as “being nicer” goes.

I will stop calling George W. Bush a chimp.
I actually haven’t called him a chimp very often this year. The 2003 Bushian Epithet of Choice was “dingleberry.”

I will stop having erotic dreams about Bing Crosby.
I still have those, unfortunately, along with an increasing number of dreams involving Conan O’Brien. Is it something about Irish Catholics, d’you think?

I will not drink Red Bull.
Still haven’t touched the stuff. Finally, a resolution I kept!

I will stay in touch with people.
This is the part where half of my readers grumble that I never replied to their e-mails.

I will stop spending so much time on the computer.
I’d make a witty comment, but I’m too busy sobbing at my own pathetic life.

Well. That was… sad. Hm. Hey, let’s dispel this awkward tension of unfulfilled goals and shattered dreams by making another list of impossible-to-accomplish ideals!

I will start using capital letters again.
Now, write this five hundred times: I am not e. e. cummings. I am not e. e. cummings. I am not e. e. cummings...

I will stop calling the rabbit “hraka-breath.”
Even if it is unfortunately apt.

I will not sweat the small stuff.
But it’s not all small stuff.

I will cut down on sweets and sugary foods.
… she said, as her husband pulled a fresh batch of cookies from the oven. (Seriously.)

I will stop swearing at Winnie-the-Pooh.
I’ve been shocking people with the strings of pearly curses that roll off my tongue when Winnie-the-Pooh invades my reality bubble. But seriously, how can you not hate a retarded bear whose name is a synonym for “shit”?... Okay, I’m stopping! Sheesh.

I will stop having erotic dreams about Jeff Goldblum.
Don’t start. Just... just don’t even start.

I will not bite my nails anymore.
When did I take that habit up again? That’s a bad habit. I’ll bite your nails instead.

I will collect every They Might Be Giants song out there.
And I will learn the words, just in case I’m stuck on a desert island without my Walkman.

I will stop screaming “TROGDOOOR!” at random intervals.
It’s starting to frighten my loved ones. (Oh wait, they were frightened already.)

I will learn a foreign language.
Klingon counts, right?

I will try not to make dead baby jokes around my family.
What’s small and screams and can’t turn corners? Oh trust me, you don’t want to know...

I will limit my theological discussions.
When I say “discussions” I actually mean “full-blown screaming arguments.” (Can I help it if half the world hasn’t actually read the Bible? I need to enlighten people to the errors inherent in the Good Book...)

I will resist my maternal instincts.
Well, for another ten years, anyway.

I will stop calling George W. Bush a dingleberry.
Now that the election year is upon us, it’s time to move on to a more descriptive epithet. Hmm... “sniveling nematode” has a nice ring to it...

Will I actually stick to these resolutions? Is a polar bear purple? Ha, I tell you, and ha again! Resolutions were made to be broken!

So… what are your resolutions?