Resolve This, B!%*H!!!!

What is a New Year’s Resolution anyway? I know it’s a tradition where we resolve to make some sort of change and all, but some of the changes are so far-fetched and completely insane! The number one thing I’ve seen is people resolving to lose weight. Hmmm, I’m sure that’s a great goal and all, but I’d rather not spend my entire New Year thinking about how to reduce the size of my muffin top. I’ve heard people say they would like to become more financially responsible…here is some advice to help you with that one: stop spending your hard earned cash on dumb shit. I’m not really one to talk though, I blow money on underwear like a crack addict does on his habit. I wouldn’t want to get into a car accident and have out of season panties now would I? I suppose I’ll just be stuck with a fat ass and a drained checking account because those items are for sure not on my redeeming list for 2015. No, I like to choose things that have a little more meaning to me than that. What are they? Oh my dear, I thought you’d never freaking ask. But I have to warn you, my list is pretty outlandish. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I will try to not be so terrified of 4-way stops. (I said T-R-Y). Let’s face it, those things are a breeding ground for a nuclear powered panic attack. You pull up slowly, face down the other drivers and then start to piss yourself because who knows if it’s your turn or not. Yeah you’ve been there, it’s nothing shy of a national disaster in the making. But as with everything I will throw my best effort into not being mortified at the possibility of said action.

I will try to get over my aversion to spiders…scratch that. Screw those eight legged freaks! Show me one person on this planet that doesn’t get skeeved out by a silent, deadly creepy crawling bastard. Yeah, there isn’t such a person. If they tell you they are in no way afraid of spiders, they are either lying through their teeth, or you are speaking directly to the person that created them…Satan. And then you know he’s lying.

I will try to learn that yelling and screaming is not a valid form of human communication. I’m fully aware that my version of this act could be considered a language in which only dogs and bats communicate. It’s a rather high pitched, whistle sort of noise that has been known to crack windows and cause the mandatory replacement of a flat screen television. But when no one tends to listen, you feel the need to take things to the next level. My voice is one that could cause an entire MLB stadium to come to complete silence. But I will tone it down a notch and see if my results are formatted in a positive way. But I won’t hold my breath…screaming while doing so will cause a person to bust a blood vessel or something.

I will try to stop thinking that yoga pants are an acceptable slice of attire when I leave my house. I’m a writer, therefore I prefer to be lavished in comfort when I do my job. Typing away while sporting a formal gown and dangling earrings isn’t high on my list of priorities currently. Let’s face the truth here, yoga pants are the bee’s knees when it comes to comfort. Guys may not understand, but then again they think that scratching their junk and burping the alphabet is socially acceptable. By the way, I can only burp to the letter C. Somehow I get tickled and begin laughing and snorting. Anyway, I used to think that owning a pair of yoga pants made me part of the cool crowd. That somehow people would envision me stepping out of a yoga studio covered in a light sheen of sweat after my stretch-tastic workout. Now I really know what they think…”She’s a lazy mother#$ker!” It’s okay though, I earn the title honorably and I will sit back and enjoy my trophy while wearing my freaking yoga pants.

I will try to stop wearing my hair in that half pulled through pony tail, floppy bun thing. You know the one I’m talking about right? The one where you’re too damn lazy to take the extra half a second and pull the hair all the way through the circular piece of elastic? Yeah that’s the one! I tell myself I do this because I don’t like my hair touching my neck but why wouldn’t I just go ahead and take a freaking bic razor to my scalp and cut to the chase? Maybe because I’m not a 40 year old dude with a snake tattoo coiling around his neck and drive a Harley. I have tattoos by the way…and no, I don’t have a tramp stamp in case you’re wondering. I don’t go to the extra effort with the hair because in some f’d up frame of thinking, I believe this lazy hairstyle looks cool. Like I’m just so busy that I couldn’t possibly take the time to pull it through properly. Well, I’m calling bullshit on myself. I don’t wake up until after 12 P.M. most days, if I have to leave the house the general public is lucky I’m wearing a bra, and I refuse to walk the 50 yards to my mailbox when the guy shoves letters in there. All in all, I don’t make the effort because I don’t really care. There I said it! So sue me…please don’t, all I have is a few nice electronics and a kid. You can take the kid if you want but I will warn you…he smells.

 

So now you’ve been privy to my New Year’s Resolution list. If you noticed, I say the word ‘try’ quite a bit. Why is that? Well here’s my thoughts on it, I will try to do all of those things. But in all reality, as soon as the clock strikes midnight tonight, I’ll be wearing my yoga pants, my hair will be in a half pulled through bun and I will still get the shit scared out of me if a spider invades my personal boundaries.

I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year. Whatever 2015 holds for you, I’m sure you will grace through it with dignity and amazingness. Raise your glass of milk and say goodbye to 2014, and hello to 2015!!!!

C.D. Taylor