Resolutions Are Fucking Stupid

The New Year's resolution is an annual rite of passage whereby boisterous hopes for personal growth spout eternal. Tis' the season - for delusions of grandeur & shattered dreams... these promises to ourselves are also the ones we quietly fail miserably to keep. Why? Because once the buzz from the bubbly wears off, we quickly come to the conclusion that resolutions are fucking stupid.

If you want to avoid crippling disappointment by January 7th when your resolutions are destined to fall by the wayside, my advice to you is that you steer clear of these mighty popular yet particularly hard to keep resolutions:


1. I Resolve To Stop Cheating On My Significant Other

But ya gots ta fuck, right? I hate to break it to you (p.s. no I don't), but it'll never happen. If you're a cheater, you're a cheater. And if you're one of those people who rationalizes your disgusting behavior by saying that when you get married, the cheating stops, please proceed to that jumbled junk drawer I know you have in your kitchen, find the tack hammer and rap the shit out of your knuckles immediately. Three times. Like Sister Mary Catherine used to do to my paws in grammar school. That evil, sex-starved bitch.

2.  I Resolve To Stop Beating My Wife

The question here is whether or not she deserves the beatings. Nothing gets a household in efficient working order faster than a couple crisp backhands. Personally, I've never been a fan of it, but if the bitch insists on continually falling out of line, then by all means, give that cunt something to think about. Brass knuckle her ass back to submissiveness.

3. I Resolve To Take Down the Christmas Tree

I know, I know, I think this one's ridiculous too. I can't believe how frequently people mentioned this as one of their resolutions. Astonishment aside, if you need a resolution to take down the Christmas tree, you are one gi-normous lazy retaahd. Get up from that shitty Rent-a-Center couch, do your best fruit roll-up impersonation and peel off those crusty old sweatpants you first wet-dreamed into, spit out the wad of holiday caramels causing drool to trickle down your stubbly Travolta ass-chin and coax your wife from her perilous perch atop the teetering stepladder. Before she fucking falls and kills herself taking that stupid star off the dying evergreen's tippy top. Jeeeee-sus.

4. I Resolve To Start Doing Charity Work

This resolution is the classic guilt panic play. Guilty for what, you ask? Ya got me, but I'm sure you know why. Wink wink. The bottom line is this: charity isn't the answer you're looking for. Sure, you may save some inner city kid from turning to drugs or gang warfare. And sure, you may help build a home that houses a family who was about to get thrown out onto the streets. But does it really make you feel that good? You'll be bored with it after a week. Trust me. Just donate a couple bucks online, it's the same difference.

5. I Resolve To Lose Weight

Ah yes, the mother of all New Year's resolutions. For this one, I've got a little story for ya:

I went to the gym once. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, but three gigantor ex-NFL players patrolling the velvet rope barricade controlling the flood of new members into the club. "Fucking New Year's resolutions," I muttered to myself in disgust and reluctantly fell in line, much like the lemmings we all are. I finally managed to bribe my way inside and found yet another line awaiting me. This one nine chubbos deep, all waiting for the elliptical machine. I repeat: the ELLIPTICAL machine.

(Twenty-Second Timeout: I never use this silly concoction. Ever. For a couple reasons actually, the most important one being the crippling phobia of appearing remotely similar to Tony Little at any point in my life. I'm quite certain you know Monsieur Little from those 3am infomercials spastically pimping his infamously terrible Gazelle machine.)

I bravely placed my fears aside and got in that line too. Why? Because I figured there must be a catch if people were actually lining up to ride the elliptical. And I was secretly hoping said catch was that this version 2.0 of the original elliptical massages your genitals while working out. Or something like that. Turns out it didn't. So after waiting two hours in line watching ass cheeks frantically trying to escape from the lycra they were crammed into, I ended up looking like Tony Little after all. Ahh fuck.

Point being, you chocolate sauce guzzlers show up on January 3rd, sweat to the oldies until February 3rd - MAX - and then mail it in for the remaining eleven months, retreating back to the comfort of your internet chat rooms and econo-sized buckets of Bon Bons. Your half-hearted attempts at "fitness" make the gym experience, which is despicable on so many levels to begin with, beyond palpable.

6. I Resolve To Stop Being Gay

Come on toots, you can't stop being gay. It's not a lifestyle choice, you were born that way. Quit the pitiful self-loathing bit, ya big homo, and get on with your flaming self. Besides, gay is so hot right now. Just go suck a dick and get it over with already.

7. I Resolve To Stop Smoking

You're kidding, right? You don't seriously think you can quit smoking, do you? You're addicted. Suckaah. Say you're the first person in history who miraculously manages to stop smoking, completely and forever. You have no clue what's next in store, do you? If the idea of stuffing your face with "Chicorettes" every nineteen minutes and feverishly slapping Nicotrol patches all over your ass upon getting out of the splash closet in the morning sounds appealing, then hey, I wish you nothing but the best.


8. I Resolve To Stop Being So Fucking Cheap

Cheapness is a disease. I firmly believe this and will fight to the death with anyone who disagrees. For the record, there's NO correlation whatsoever to cheapness and the amount of money one person has, or makes. Fact. However, the resolution is a good start, because it means you've identified that you are indeed suffering from this horrible disease. Unfortunately, this won't do you any good in curing it. Sorry. To clarify, if you've done any of the following things, you're a cheap motherfucker:

1. Calculated the tip on a pre-tax, or even worse, pre-tax AND pre-drink basis.
2. Openly denied being cheap and instead suggested that you're "frugal." That's akin to claiming you're not racist because you have a black friend.
3. Blurted out the term "Splitsville!" to your girlfriend when the check for dinner lands on the table.
4. Disappeared into the men's room as your turn to buy a round for the boys neared.
5. Got up at 4am and headed to the malls on Black Friday for some holiday shopping. Then defended this horrifying decision by stating that "the deals are really amazing!" You fucking cheap idiot.

Wow, this topic is a piece in itself, but alas, I must move on.

9. I Resolve To Start Trimming My Reproductive Region

The act of "trimming the fairway" or "manicuring Motown," as it's affectionately been called, isn't all the shits and giggles it's rumored to be. There are serious occupational hazards involved with this endeavor. Before we move on from this particular resolution, I want to point out that I'm not completely ignorant to the fact that trimming one's place where the perverted uncle wants to touch brings with it serious improvement in appearance. Fellas, admit it, most of you could use a little assistance in the "depth perception" department. So if you're going to go there, do the deed with a pair of foolproof, Crayola kiddy scissors. And for you, ladies, leave the vaginal housekeeping to those Korean grandmothers and their hot buckets of wax. They're fucking scientists when it comes to that shit.

10. I Resolve To Stop Buying Everything on Credit

But you don't have any money, how are you going to do that? You need your toys and are you really going to stop going out? Like the instructions on a bottle of Pantene: Pay the minimum. Max it out. Repeat. Then, when that primo balance transfer offer arrives in your mailbox, transfer the fucker. I've heard this course of action hurts your credit rating, but I'm not sure why, that's just being fiscally responsible. Granted, as interest rates slowly rise and the average consumer's fixed cost burden rises along with it, we're going to have a swell of bankruptcies in this country. No worries though, Chapter 11s are destined to become chic. You can bank on this. (Pun absolutely intended.)

11. I Resolve To Cut Back on Texting/iPhoning/BlackBerrying in Bars

I knew this thumb-clicking phenomenon had reached a crescendo when I read about the injuries that have been occurring from excessive messaging volume. "Textitis," a (now) commonly diagnosed overuse injury, is sweeping the nation, leaving a trail of thumb slings and empty ibuprofen bottles in its wake.

To all those in bars and/or restaurants who have their heads buried in whatever techno device they prefer to wield: STOP. You look like a huge, fucking douchebag. It's rude and embarrassing to those whose company you share. While admittedly the greatest flirting technology since IM'ing, there is a point where it crosses the line of acceptability. If you made a resolution to cut back, then congrats, that's checkpoint 1 down the long road to recovery.


12. I Resolve To Start a Blog

"Link to me! Comment on my latest entry! How did you find my site?" Great work! You're almost there.

Congrats, your blog will officially be number 11,365,786 in existence. There are now more blogs than McDonald's cheeseburgers served. Just wait until Michael Dell figures out how to sell computers efficiently to China's agricultural population. Then you'll be able to add three zeros to the aforementioned number. And they hang fuckers for blogging over there. A bit of wisdom: no one wants to hear your rants and/or opinions, nor do we care about the excruciating daily minutiae that comprises your sad existence.

By the way, have you been to MY blog? Oh fuck off, my blog is different.