Happy New Year, Lucites/minions and minionettes/all the party people in the house!
How was your New Year? Excellent? I hope so. I hope there was glitter and magic and bubbly beverages, or, you know, whatever you do to celebrate the New Year. Me, I worked for eight hours, answering phone calls for the greater Capital Region (most of which were people planning their free cab rides home for later in the evening – one of our clients runs a free cab service on the holidays for people who have been overserved, so we were getting, on average, a call every minute from people trying to plan their debauchery ahead of time, since the rides were only from 10pm to 2am, and some of the people were already on their way to overservitude, like, at 10am), then came home to my lovingly chilled bottle (and…a half…ahem) of magic no-hangover wine and the interwebs, which is really how it should be on New Year’s Eve. Well, maybe not for YOU. For ME. I’m not a fan of going out on New Year’s Eve. There are all those people! Who are all loud, and drunk, and touchy! And then there’s all this pressure to come into bodily contact once the ball drops! Who needs that, I ask you? Well, most of the world, I suppose, needs that. I don’t need that.
One New Year’s Eve, many moons ago, a friend came to visit me from far away, and we made big plans to go out. I bought a fancy-schmancy dress. It was sparkly. And heels. I don’t wear heels, because I’m a tall lady, to begin with, so it’s like I was born not needing to wear heels, you know? But it was New Year’s Eve, and I wanted to be FANCY. And on my way to the car (when we hadn’t even started drinking yet, by the way – on my WAY to the car, BEFORE the bar) I fell flat on my face in the parking lot because of the effing heels. Which weren’t even that tall. And sprained my ankle like a son of a bitch. But we still went out, because I had a sparkly dress and I was planning on getting drunk and that’s a painkiller, right? But it started to hurt, badly, and then started to swell, and the heels had ankle straps which started to cut into my ankle like little guillotines of evil, and well, HAPPY EFFING NEW YEAR, I could barely function. So, yeah, it’s a lot safer for me to stay in the house. Also, to wear flats. Or no shoes at all, like a hillbilly, which I can do if I’m in my own house, hence the staying home.
Hey! Do you know what’s awkward? The end-of-year coverage on television. The newscaster is always some third-stringer guy they bring in, probably a cameraman or something so the rest of them can go out to some fancy party, and he’s not very comfortable up in front of everyone, and last night on my local news station they kept cutting between him and Times Square, and in Times Square, there was ANOTHER awkward reporter, and also the Green Goblin from the Spider-man musical, and although I totally had been drinking? It felt like maybe it was one of those old-time movies where they show you the horrors of drinking, like “this is what will HAPPEN if you drink the DEMON ALCOHOL you will see AWKWARD REPORTERS and a man dressed in GREEN LATEX and FACEPAINT and he will CACKLE and ALSO SING, HAPPY NEW YEAR you LUSH” but it was really real. And embarrassing, for everyone involved.
Then the ball dropped, and all the people were doing all the kissing, while wearing huge Nivea-sponsored New Year’s hats (…I don’t know, either, unless someone paid me major coinage I’m not sponsoring a lip-gloss company while making out on national television) and then my man Sinatra’s “New York, New York” came on, and that was nice, then that super-sad ukelele version of “Over the Rainbow” came on (why is that all of a sudden a New Year’s thing? That does nothing but remind people of dead Dr. Greene on ER, that’s not celebratory, is it?) OH. And earlier in the night? That miniscule and odd Cee Lo Green who has the weirdest little stubby arms like sad little penguin-wings sang “Imagine”? And it was the WORST THING EVER you guys. Seriously. John Lennon was like the most peaceful human beings alive and he would have been all “WHAT THE HELL CEE LO GREEN MAKE THIS STOP RIGHT NOW OR I WILL PULL OFF ONE OF YOUR MINI-ARMS AND BEAT YOU BODILY WITH IT.”
Anyway! So that was my New Year’s Eve. I drank a lot of magic no-hangover wine, and it really was magic, because I am not hungover today at all, even though I really did have more than one bottle. I mean, you couldn’t just LEAVE like a quarter-bottle of the stuff for another day. You really had to finish it. It was like a rule, right? Right. And I tweeted all the people. And I told kickass @debihen she lived in Texas when she didn’t, which was just confusing, but to be fair, since like, a ton of my other awesome Twitter people live in Texas, I think kind of my default when someone is awesome is, “Oh, they must be from Texas.” But yeah, no hangover, I’m good. And I slept like a champ, too. I know, you kind of hate me right now. I’m cool with that.
So let’s talk resolutions! That’s what people do on New Year’s, right? Resolve things?
I don’t know what the hell to resolve.
So I went to Google, as you do, to see what OTHER people are resolving. I mean, other people are totally helpful, I think I need some help, here.
Drink less alcohol. Hmm. Really? People resolve to do this? I guess, if you have a problem with it, or something. I actually was thinking in 2012 I should drink MORE alcohol. Because I really enjoy it? And I was wanting to try some other TYPES of alcohol. I’m not really down with this one.
Resolved: To drink as much alcohol as I want to in 2012 because I am a grown-ass woman. Also, there was whipped-cream-flavored vodka at the liquor store the other day. How can I NOT try that?
Eat healthier food. Yeah, I should totally do this, but I don’t like how it tastes. If we were meant to eat healthier food, wouldn’t it all taste like chocolate cake?
Resolved: To find healthier food that tastes like chocolate cake in 2012.
Get a better education. Nope, I’m cool, I’ve got a lot of this. More than I need. I’m still paying for the education I’ve got, actually. Sorry, resolution.
Resolved: To keep paying for the education I’m not using because I made some ill-planned choices in my youth, possibly due to alcohol consumption, in 2012.
Get a better job. Yeah, I should do this. But it’s a lot of work, and I’m really lazy. Also, usually you have to dress up for job interviews, and I don’t like pantyhose.
Resolved: Find a job that doesn’t require I wear nice clothes or pantyhose for the job interview in 2012. Or leave the house. Or interact with people. Or do any work. Just sends me a check, really, for being awesome.
Get fit/lose weight. Yeah, again, I should do this. But how will I blog and work out at the same time? There’s just not enough time in the world. This is a problem.
Resolved: Find a way to blog and work out at the same time. Possibly hire someone to work out for me while I blog. Win-win. Stimulate the economy while not having to sweat and still getting to write.
Manage debt/save money. Way to be a buzzkill, New Year’s resolutions. You can’t really “manage” something when you owe enough money to your student loan people to buy a private island where you could, technically, HIDE from your student loan people, possibly behind a palm tree. Also, you can’t save something you don’t have in the first place. Stupid rubbing-in of poverty.
Resolved: Suck it, debt. Suck it twice, savings.
Manage stress. This is vague. I think this should give directions, not just “manage stress.” HOW DO I DO THIS RESOLUTION. Now I’m stressed.
Resolved: Find a way to manage stress that isn’t screaming oneself hoarse in rush hour traffic, punching or kicking inanimate objects, eating all the things, or calling everyone you meet a douchecanoe.
Reduce, reuse, and recycle. Um. This is a popular New Year’s resolution? It’s called “being poor.” I’ve been doing the reduce and reuse part since 1992. Recycle – yeah, I should probably be better about that. Al Gore is probably going to come to my house one of these days and punch me right in the neck.
Resolved: Get one of those burglar-chain-thingys so Al Gore can’t just get in here and punch me right in the neck.
Take a trip. ZOMG I GOT THIS ONE. This year, I am taking TWO trips. In late spring, I am going to Florida, to see the ocean, some kookaburras, a whole bunch of flea markets, probably a lot of old people with blue hair and walkers with tennis balls on the feet, and drink a shit-ton of half-price margaritas; and in early-to-mid summer, I’m going to Maryland, to see R. & A. & Baby Girl Awesomesauce, and also A. has promised to show me the seedier neighborhoods from The Wire, and R. says there’s an Edgar Allan Poe museum. I WIN AT THIS ONE.
Resolved: To rock the hell out of my two trips I’m taking this year and take a ton of photos of me being inappropriate at various out-of-state venues to share with all of you on here because why else go?
Volunteer to help others. DUDE. I do this ALL THE TIME. I help people at the theater, because listen, I don’t get paid for that. I help people by letting them go ahead of me in lines in the store when I have all the things and they have very few things. I help people by saying, “Hey, lady, you dropped something out of your laundry basket on the floor there.” I help people by holding doors. I help people by giving totally helpful advice, like at work yesterday, this guy who seems very nice and also has an intriguing arm-tattoo said, “So there’s this girl and she says we’re just friends and she treats me like shit and she uses me all the time for like money and a place to crash and sleeps in my bed but no touching, so she really loves me, right?” and I was all, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH NICE MEN, WHY DO YOU LET WOMEN LIKE THIS USE YOU, GET RID OF HER NOW, SLAPPY.” That was totally helpful! I mean, he looked scared, but mostly that’s because I’ve never spoken to him before. Come to think of it, I don’t think it was fear, probably awe? Awe at my amazing advice. I help people who call us at the answering service by saying “Yes I will have the doctor call you back immediately, running out of birth control when you want to have all the sex IS a totally serious emergency, yes ma’am” and not even laughing at them until I get OFF the phone. I AM THE MOST HELPFUL YOU GUYS.
Resolved: To CONTINUE to be the most helpful, because listen, pay it forward, that kid who saw dead people said I had to, I think. I mean, I didn’t see the movie or anything but I think that’s what the commercials for it implied was going on there.
These were not really the best resolutions. Google! I am not pleased. This only proves that America is not very creative with their resolutions.
Resolved in 2012, the Amy version:
- Get a bigger SD card for my phone because the stupid thing keeps running out of memory and I totally had to erase Google Plus from it the other day in order to continue texting and maybe someday I’d want to use Google Plus again, how do I know what future-me will want to do?
- Get another cat at some point. Oh, also maybe some fish. And also a terrarium because you have always wanted frogs. But don’t get any hamsters or mice because remember what happened when you had those once? They totally escaped and ate through the back of your couch.
- Read more books that are awesome and less books that are garbage. If a book is not good, please stop being afraid to put it down in case it “gets better.” Odds are slim it will get better. You never seem to learn that lesson. Let 2012 be the year you do.
- At some point, get a haircut. It’s been like a year, it’s gotten embarrassing. You look like a hippie.
- GET A NEW COMPUTER. No, seriously. Save up your money and buy the damn thing. I’m not backing down on this one, Me.
- A couple of things that are NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS NOSY PARKER.
- Write ALL THE THINGS.
- Laugh more, cry less, and be happy more than you are sad.
- Repeat that last one every single day, 366 times, until it’s a year from now.
Happy New Year to each and every one of you. I love all of your faces. YES EVEN YOU PERVY PETE. Today, you’re all smooshable.
(Title’s from Ranier Maria Rilke. You could do worse than to start the new year with a little poetry.)