Every year, I forget to make resolutions for the new year until around February. This year, I vowed to keep on top of them, so I started making them in October and writing them down on small pieces of paper that I promptly lost. I keep finding scraps of paper in the pockets of my jackets and the lint trap with ridiculous things written on them, but I think I’ve managed to collect most of the important ones. So here’s to 2010, a year in which I answered the door for the police with no pants on, watched a U.S. Congressman who will not be named crawl around on the floor with a wiener dog, and made probably the funniest joke I’ve ever made (I can’t repeat it. It was just so good and perfectly timed that I don’t want to tarnish it.), among other things. Bring it on, 2011.
1) Teach self to yodel.
I don’t know if you can teach yourself to yodel, but I do know that I really, really want to know how to do it. I have to drive four hours between my house and school every time I go home. Why not fill that time with yodeling? For some reason, there is nothing funnier to me than the mental image of me driving down the road, whizzing by other drivers, yodeling to myself. I don’t think my roommates will like the learning process, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
2) Stop having nightmares about Smarties chipping teeth
This happened to me in real life, and for some reason it messed me up. I haven’t gone a week that I haven’t dreamed about eating a Smartie (is the singular “Smarty”?) and having half my teeth fall out. That’s not what happened to me– I only chipped one of my lower front teeth, but I was self-conscious about my stupid teeth already and now I just feel British. So…
3) Stop eating Smarties
I know it wasn’t the Smarties fault, and it feels wrong to blame the candy for my inability to eat things properly, but I have to stop the nightmares. So, sweet Smarties, adieu. Until at least January 15th.
4) Attempt to get out in the sunlight, in the interest of Vitamin D
I don’t particularly like the sunlight. In fact, it makes me break out and itch, which is why certain members of my family theorize that I’m a vampire and have started carrying wooden stakes around with them. However, other members of my family are convinced that the color of my skin, which could be described as “milk”, or “cream”, or “vaguely corpse-like”, is a little unnatural and something to be worried about. I keep freaking out my parents and grandparents because they think I’m ill, and it’s resulted in a lot of bruising in my arm every time they send me to the doctor to get a blood test. On the bright side, since I’m freakishly pale, the doctor never has a tough time finding the vein. So I guess you win some, you lose some.
5) No more Nicolas Cage movies!
Nicolas Cage, I hate you. I hate you so much. Without fail, anytime I go to the movies there’s a trailer for a new Nicolas Cage movie and whoever I’m with says “I love Nicolas Cage!” and I glare at them for the next two hours instead of watching the movie. There is nothing to love about Nicolas Cage. He’s been accused of gross overacting before, so I’m not going to criticize his technique. I’m not even going to talk about how he might actually be a crazy person. (See the link at bottom of post for evidence, or just Google him.) No, I’m going with the shallower route. I hate his hair. I haven’t seen one movie where he looks comfortable under whatever awful haircut he has. I hate his voice. A part of me died listening to him talk in Con Air. I hate that I occasionally get tricked into watching a Nicolas Cage movie because I think, “Hey! This movie has a lot of fans! Nicolas Cage can’t be as bad as I remember, since he’s clearly still getting hired and people must like him.” But he is as bad as I remember, and in some cases, worse. I could do a whole list on my hatred for Nicolas Cage, so I’m just going to drop it here.
6) Ensure that you are not dreaming when a handsome cop is standing outside. Whatever you do, do not tell him you keep men in your basement. (Even if it happens to be technically true, it should never be phrased that way.) Don’t roll your eyes at him when he confirms your name, thinking that because you’re asleep, you won’t be shot with a Taser. And please, for the love of God, make sure you’re wearing pants before you even open the door.
I think this one pretty much speaks for itself.
7) Kick your addiction.
I have a problem, and I’m not quite to the stage where I want to face up to it. I went out in 0 degree weather tonight (Zero degrees! That is no degrees! Booger-freezing temperature!) to deposit money in an ATM so that I had enough to buy something that may or may not rhyme with shomance shnovel at the convenience store across the street. That’s right. Laugh it up. It’s not a cool, glamorous addiction like coke or strippers, but it’s my personal demon. I don’t think I can beat it. I’m just going to give up now. It’s New Years Eve. At midnight, when you’re all kissing your significant others to welcome the new year, or hiding from it in an alcohol-induced haze, I will be sitting at home alone, reading a romance novel about a time-traveling Highland warrior (I wish that was a joke, but I swear that’s what it’s about). Seriously, just give me some kittens now, because there’s no escaping my cat lady fate.