My husband asked me if I had any New Year’s resolutions that I was shooting for this year.
Shooting for? What the fuck does that even mean?
Yeah, I am shooting for a hell of a lot, and your ass might be next if you continue to use that phrase. Actually, both of those phrases: ‘shooting for’ and ‘New Year’s Resolutions.’
What are you saying exactly, when you ask me how I plan to improve as a person?
Now, I’m not saying that I’m all-out fabulous (pretty close), but I am aware there are a few ‘life infractions’ I make on a daily basis that I could possibly eliminate all together, if I wanted to.
But I don’t. I’ve chosen to go against the grain this year and give the middle finger to the typical New Year’s resolution list. In fact, I’ve decided to make a formal statement with a list of my unique resolutions which I will proudly display on the refrigerator for my family to see:
1. I’m “shooting for” my child to understand the meaning of the word “chore.” I’m quite certain she is confusing the word with “choir” or “chair” or she might be misinterpreting it to mean “toss shit in every possible corner of the house.” I’d even settle for her comprehension of “flush the damn toilet” or “throw your underpants in the fucking hamper.”
2. I’m aiming for a haircut this year. Yep, a real haircut done by a hairdresser who looks even a day over 17 and doesn’t mention the words “ombre,” “highlights” or “Kardashian.” You know, the type of salon where you aren’t in and out in fifteen minutes left with sopping wet hair questioning if you looked better before you walked into “$9.99 Edward Scissorhands Salon.”
3. I plan to drink more alcohol. Yes, you read that correctly. I have a new goal to integrate more alcohol into my life. I’ve always wanted to incorporate those fancy, lowball whiskey glasses into my stemware collection and I cannot think of a better time than right now.
4. Kill less houseplants. That is more of a lifetime goal, but I figured I’d toss it onto the list. A lot of people make goals for the New Year that never come to fruition; killing houseplants will always be one of mine.
5. Wear actual pants. Yes, I do cover my backside, well, most days, but my new 2015 goal is to wear pants that have a zipper and a button. A.K.A. anything that doesn’t resemble a pair of stretchy leggings. Last year closed out in infamy. I own more ‘yoga’ pants than actual pants. What’s worse is my daughter emulating my approach to fashion and refusing to wear pants that are not made out of cotton or spandex. That shit is gonna change. Immediately. Maybe.
6. Eat more doughnuts. I’ve realized that life is short, and I’m planning to throw cholesterol worries to the wind and eat more doughnuts. And chocolate lava cake. And bundt cake. All cake, really. (This may subvert my plan for pants.)
7. Start a collection of something. My mom has a Christmas ornament collection and all I have to display is a family of three’s mismatched socks. I will start a collection of something outstanding; Post-it notes, shot glasses, computer mouses, tchotchkes . . . something along those lines. I’ve not fully committed on this one, but it will happen.
8. Re-incorporate prank calls into my life. That was my favorite part of being a teenager and I plan to bring that shit back in my 31st year of life. Again, life is short…
9. I don’t plan on incorporating this one into the list my husband will see, but I intend to regularly pay one of my credit card bills on time. Just one. I actually met a realistic goal and paid off a single credit card. You want to know what those assholes did? They sent a letter informing me they were ‘closing out my credit account,’ my zero balance credit account, mind you. Apparently, creditors are not fans of customers who don’t like to pay their bill on time. I was deeply offended. You know what? Screw number nine. I’m not paying any of my bills on time.
10. Get a dinosaur tattoo. It will happen. Tyrannosaurus Rex or Stegosaurus? Really, that’s the only important question, and truthfully, probably the most important thing on my resolution list.
It took me thirty years to realize I’ll never join a gym, take up horseback riding or put the 47 pairs of ‘yoga’ pants I own to actual use. I’m sticking with some realistic shit and I suggest you do the same.
Watch the fuck out, this beast is comin’ at ya!
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