Dance Dance Resolution: January 14, 2009

In which resolutions are made. And, inevitably, broken.

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My initial resolution for the New Year was not to make any resolutions, but then I realized I would break it if I followed it, and the resulting tear in the time-space continuum would probably kill us all and mess up my hair. So I decided to be all traditional and make a List of Resolutions. My List is shorter than it has been the past few years; maybe I’ve cleaned up my act and don’t need to spend so much time self-improving, or maybe I just don’t like the tinkling noise resolutions make when they shatter into pieces. You decide.

#1: Discover my superpower

I have been working diligently on this since the beginning of the year, and so far I have discovered many of my heretofore unknown gifts:

  • the ability to accurately predict the punchlines of sitcom jokes, regardless of whether I have ever seen the episode
  • the ability to eat virtually anything, because I am cheap and we are in a recession and the mouse turds add flavor
  • the ability to spit profusely but inaccurately, usually when I have just read something funny online
  • the ability to magically acquire new crafting skills (case in point: I couldn’t crochet, and then suddenly I could. WITH NO PRIOR TRAINING. It was one Virgin Mary short of a miracle, folks)
  • the ability to stub my toes on everything, EVERYTHING, including empty air
  • the ability to fall down immediately upon stepping outside, whether or not there is actually ice on the ground

All very well and good, but hardly superhero material; none of them lend themselves to catchy handles, unless “Pratfall Girl” sounds like someone you’d want to call in an emergency. I’ve also discovered that my ability to look good in a miniskirt is negligible at best, which severely curtails my super-costuming options. Hey! Maybe my superpower is stunning people into apathy with the sight of my bony, cat-scratch-covered knees! Now… should I use this for good or for evil?

#2: Annexe a small Eastern European country

This has been on my to-do list for ages, became life is infinitely more fun with minions and castles. But why a small Eastern European country, you ask? Because a) I live in an apartment and simply don’t have room for a big, sprawling domain, and b) Eastern European borders change so often that I’m sure I could carve a chunk out without anyone noticing. I will then declare myself the Shah (the best title for a ruler, because it has “hah!” built right in), set in place a typographical tyranny (anyone caught using Comic Sans MS will be shot on sight), and then spend my days wearing epaulettes and purchasing little-known Scottish actors for my harem. Posts in my cabinet/harem will be based purely on nepotism and drunken whims, so start sucking up to me now if you want to be Prime Minister/head eunuch.

#3: Try out for American Idol

The beauty of this plan is that it cannot fail: if I win, then I get rich and famous and can finally afford to get that Hitler-humping-a-sheep tattoo that will prevent me from ever holding down a regular job; if I lose, I am prepared, because my self-esteem could not possibly get any lower than it already is (what kind of pathetic dork wants to scar themselves with an ironic Hitler/sheep tattoo?). Either way, I’m sure my don’t-miss audition will make me a YouTube star. Maybe I can even rip out a few of Simon Cowell’s chest hairs before I’m dragged from the audition room; look for them on eBay, under the seller name “Suxx@Singing”.

#4: Send a weekly e-mail to Stephenie Meyer which says nothing but “Midnight Sun Midnight Sun Midnight Sun” in it

… because Stephenie Meyer has sworn she will not resume writing the Twilight retelling until she has gone for at least two years without hearing anyone mention it. If I can stop any more Twilight books from coming into existence, it will be my single greatest contribution to humanity. I am throwing myself on the grenade for you, my friends.

#5: Fake my own death (repeatedly and often)

I do not want to end up like this poor schmuck, who obviously needed a bit more practice before the big show. I plan to fake my own death at least once a week, trying out various methods to see which works best. Of course, the downside to this is that everyone will figure out what I’m doing and eventually greet my real death-faking attempt with open skepticism, which rather ruins the purpose. (Guys, you will know I am seriously faking my death when I give you the secret codeword: “Elvis”.) Now I must go crash my velocipede into the Mississippi.

#6: Raise the Titanic

God only knows what I’ll do with it once I have it up here — probably just shoot spitballs at it for a while, then drop it back down again. Or maybe I will give it to my head eunuch.

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