New Year’s Resolution: Lose 15 pounds.
Predicted Outcome: Over the course of the year, my secret love of cheese will be too strong for me to repress and consequently, I will consume vast wheels of Gouda. Ounce by ounce, I will in fact gain 15 pounds until my thighs are the diameter of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline.
New Year’s Resolution: Develop a taste for cheap vodka. Or learn to filter it. Thus, saving money because crap vodka is tons more bank account friendly than Grey Goose.
Predicted Outcome: A liver transplant will become an immediate necessity instead of a theoretical possibility. I will be stuck with hefty co-pays and outrageous health insurance deductibles, thereby eradicating any savings I might otherwise have achieved.
New Year’s Resolution: No longer surf the interwebs while at the Place of Lawyerly Things and devote time saved to becoming a model employee.
Predicted Outcome: I will continue with the current No Working On Friday schedule. And maybe expand this demanding schedule, because everybody knows Thursday is the new Friday.
New Year’s Resolution: Learn Chinese.
Predicted Outcome: I will order lots of Chinese food.
New Year’s Resolution: Meet Chuck Norris.
Predicted Outcome: Get all episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger from Netflicks and watch incessantly. Maybe practice my roundhouse kick. Hi-ya!
New Year’s Resolution: Think of a password other than “password.”
Predicted Outcome: Start using “password2.”
New Year’s Resolution: Stop making fun of people on the Metro.
Predicted Outcome: Such wishful thinking.
New Year’s Resolution: Perform a Service to Humanity and burn eCrush’s madras pants.
Predicted Outcome: He will most likely replace the pants with a wardrobe item equally as offensive and emasculating, which I will likewise have to publicly make fun of and covertly steal. This in turn will begin a vicious cycle of wardrobe confiscation that will only end when all madras fabrics are banned from the earth.
New Year’s Resolution: Remove all Miley Cyrus songs from my iPod.
Predicted Outcome: I will download Jonas Brothers, Selma Gomez or similar up and coming D-Rock in an effort to fill the teenbop void. I will continue to put this music on my “Music of Shame” playlist, which is actually what I renamed my Top 25 Most Played.
New Year’s Resolution: Put Bionic Kitty on a diet.
Predicted Outcome: She will eat my couch in protest. It will sorta be like Ghandi’s hunger strike, but in reverse.
New Year’s Resolution: Engage in random acts of kindness. Like no more drunk dialing, drunk texting, or drunk yelling.
Predicted Outcome: I will substitute drunk mooning, drunk boob flashing or drunk Insulting A Metro Employee and eventually be arrested for my rowdy behavior. It’ll make great blog fodder. And because I engage in “post now, think later” blog posting, my mother will read it. I’ll then receive a phone call in which she will repeatedly threatened to enroll me in Betty Ford, AA, or Promises.
New Year’s Resolution: Move from NoVA to the District.
Predicted Outcome: This will actually happen. In fact, it’ll usher in the Golden Age of My Social Life, which I will fondly refer to as the Ascendancy of Glory when I reminisce about it during my kid-rearing years.
New Year’s Resolution: Travel more.
Predicted Outcome: Hello, Maryland.