As a personal trainer, I am forced to care about New Year’s resolutions. As a female, I feel like my resolution has to be related to or consisting of a change in my physical appearance. Weight loss, maybe? Or maybe letting my nails grow. Maybe a commitment to get rid of my inner thigh jigglies (or as Tina Fey calls them, crotch biscuits). Maybe I’ll finally manage the three hairs growing out of my pinky knuckle on my right hand (real talk, readers, i don’t pluck them regularly). My frustration with having to choose a resolution that will make me more attractive to the general population not only initiates my gag reflex but also inspires me to pick different yearly goals, not the ones I chose as a husky eighth grader looking to slim down my shoulder chub. I’m a grown-up now. And here are my grown-up resolutions.
Resolution #1- Continue to be unpregnant
Don’t let this first resolution throw you off as to my earnest dedication in making this list. I have done an excellent job of not getting pregnant, mainly, through not having sex with men. But rest assured, readers, for all of 2012 you will not see my Facebook feedback littered with fetus weekly updates or listen to complaining via mass text about how difficult it is to find a organic AND compostable papoose before my planned C-section from which I post before and after pictures. You’re welcome.
Resolution #2- Stay off twitter
Comics are all over twitter and as funny as I think I am, and I am damn funny, my technology talents max out at my blog. Don’t worry, you will not have to hear about my early morning BMs after a night of chimichangas or how great low fat cream cheese is. Guess what? I’ve never even had low fat cream cheese. It sounds gross.
Resolution #3- Care about sports… sometimes
I have been a lifelong Buffalo sports fan. What this statement means is that I am used to losing teams. More specifically, I am accustomed to teams that give you hope in the beginning of the season and then destroy your soul the moment you start to believe in them, still somehow securing indefinite fan loyalty passed to each successive, jersey-wearing, light beer toting generation. Yesterday, I watched two Ohio pro-football teams, the Cleveland Browns and the Cincinnati Bengals. The shitstorm that was their athletic performance reminds me that I will continue to only care about sports if I have an investment in the town they reside in. I prefer to commit my fan love to a team that makes me lose faith in the nature of sports. Go Bucks!
Resolution #4- Stop watching Criminal Minds
In the middle of the night, during the day, with friends or by my lonesome, it doesn’t seem to matter. This show scares me into a panic. If you haven’t seen Criminal Minds, the show follows FBI profilers as they track down total sociopaths. Any glance of this show now sends me swirling into a paranoid frenzy. What if I am the next victim? The serial killers on the show ALWAYS target women… and I’M a woman. Shit! What if someone wants to drug me and tie me to a metal pole and cut my heart out while I’m still breathing but paralyzed from the neck down? You know, just the normal things one thinks about when watching a television show. Law and Order: SVU should also be on my “no” list for 2012. When I can’t sleep at night and my girlfriend asks why, I explain that a pedophile may break in and steal me. She responds with the obvious rationale that pedophiles prefer tween boys, not robust 26-year old lesbians. And though that may be true, I unfortunately have a tween boy haircut so I am still at risk. 2012, I’m going to stick to Family Guy and Big Bang Theory for now. And 2 Broke Girls. Just kidding I would never watch that stupid f%*#ing show.
Resolution #5: Stop checking my exes’ Facebook status
Nevermind, that resolution is bull and will not happen. I just opened another window on my browser to open Facebook for that specific reason.
I’m sure more resolutions will pop up as the weeks and months drag on in 2012, and this list will be amended so that maybe only one resolution will stand. Maybe none. All I know for sure readers is that when the apocolypse happens this year, I won’t be blaming a sports team or a pedophile. Nope, I’ll blame the most devious and wretched source I know of: Rick Santorum.