Chuck Palahniuk, award-winning author of “Fight Club,” among other eccentric and controversial works, has famously said that self-improvement is masturbation. I know, I didn’t believe someone would say that either until I ordered an autographed copy of his book for a friend and that was even how he signed it. Chuck and I do not share precisely the same vision on self-improvement or, for that matter, on the efficacy of planting explosives in high rises to make socio-political statements or consensually pummeling the bejeezus out of relative strangers in dank storage areas. I would additionally hazard that he is masturbating all wrong, which is neither here nor there. But I think that Chuck would wholly concur with my desire to eradicate calendar Nazis from the face of the earth. Those Stepford decorators who dutifully adorn their homes with Christmas garnishments over the Thanksgiving weekend and then promptly whisk them away to their designated attic space the first weekend after Christmas. To you I say pooh-pooh and yes, I will take down my Christmas decorations soon, but I just put them up so I haven’t really enjoyed them yet. Maybe one of your precious resolutions should be a little more patience, hmmm?
I guess I would just prefer to use my calendar to remind me of dental appointments, family birthdays and to discretely track my wife’s menstrual cycles, rather than to notify me that I have wasted yet another year not living up to my potential. To be sure, I have lots of room for improvement but who doesn’t? For example, over the past year I have eaten more cake than most East German extended families consumed during the entirety of the Cold War. I have also lost more weight in my lifetime than a sperm whale after birthing robust twins, but then invariably gained it all back plus a pound or two. Or maybe it’s a “stone” or two. Never was too good with the metric system. And my weight is but a single flaw. I thirst for the devil’s brew, I’m ruthlessly judgmental towards ill-dressed strangers and I sometimes fantasize about the cast of “Grease” break dancing naked in tapioca pudding. You’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg, people. Look deeper at your own peril.
And I could certainly improve myself beyond just fixing these glaring flaws. I have a perfectly good rain barrel sitting in my backyard waiting to fulfill its purpose of collecting rain from a downspout and then watering my vegetable garden and patio plants. But alas, the barrel remains as unattached as that older lady from “Sex In The City.” Not that I ever watched that show because I almost certainly didn’t. Also, I have taken just enough foreign language classes in my lifetime to perplex the inhabitants of any country where the Euro is traded, plus the whole of South and Latin America and the more headstrong portions of Canada. If I would just commit myself to listening to those damn language CDs, I could surely move past slowly asking the guy who cuts my neighbor’s yard whether he thinks Barcelona “would not be making some good football jobbing soonly after springtime,” then nodding with a vacuous toothiness at whatever he responds and quickly scuttling to my garage.
Yes I know I could do better, but dang it all, enough is enough. Let me tell you something, Society – when I want to improve myself I will do it on my own schedule, not when you tell me to. Now that I think about it, you put Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas back-to-back-to-back, and then you try to tell me that I need to drop a few pounds? Well, no shit, Society. You just fattened me up for three straight months and then you have the gall to glance judgmentally down at my beleaguered sweatpants and ask if I’m going to do anything about it? Just because it’s January 1st? Just because I greedily slurped down an entire magnum of champagne on New Year’s Eve and then couldn’t remember if I kissed my wife at the stroke of midnight or just continued making out lustily with that stuffed pork roast I eyeballed all evening? Just because I drunkenly insisted on discovering what would happen if I ignited one of the larger flying firecrackers upside down in my sister-in-law’s freshly-planted pansy garden? Just because I…I…oh, all right. Son, get over here and show me how to do that asinine Gangnam dance. It looks kind of aerobic. And hurry up, the calendar says I have to eat Valentine’s candy in a few weeks.
By Philip
Poor Douglas is way over-thinking this New Year’s resolution stuff. He should just follow my lead and make a resolution to do something that he was already going to do in the first place. For instance, I made a resolution to watch less “30 Rock” this year, which should be a snap since it’s their final season. Though that does depend on which networks that start with the letter “T” decide to pick them up in syndication. It’s hard to flip through that TBS, TNT, TCM juggernaut without slowing down for a peek at something. Another resolution for me this year is to cut my consumption of homemade sugar cookies in half, though that’s primarily because I found a store-bought brand that I like. I also swear to consume much less butter this year, but only because I am way into ghee right now and that’s technically not the same thing. If I start using ghee to make sugar cookies, there could be a problem with that previous resolution.
Knowing that Lent is only a few weeks away, you can apply this same theory to what you’ll be giving up for those 40 days. For me, it’s always the same thing – Brussels sprouts. A polite person might say something like, “they’re not to my taste,” but since I’ve never felt constrained by the prevailing rules of etiquette, I would say that they taste like duck taints soaked in badger urine. And not that honey badger either, but one with a more noxious-sounding name. Is there a sulfur-assed badger? Because that’s the one who peed in my bowl of Brussels sprouts.
If Society had its way, every person on the planet would be walking around in sausage-skin-tight jeans, drinking half-caf soy mochachinos while listening to Taylor Swift and tweeting about how awesome the latest episode of #downton was. Screw that. I’ll be drinking a Dewar’s and soda in my elasti-band dad jeans while rocking out to some Skynard and watching “Cake Boss.” At least I’ll catch about the first ten minutes of it. All that Scotch and Pillsbury sugar cookie dough puts me right to sleep.
It’s important to never let Society boss you around, but especially not on January 1st because they’ll just think you’re their bitch for the rest of the year and will try to get you to do all kinds of crazy stuff. What’s that Society? You want me to send people cards before their birthdays instead of after? Ain’t gonna happen, Miss Manners. You think I should wear pants when answering the door? Sorry Emily Post and UPS guy, but I’m a maverick who can’t be bothered with your petty little rules. And hey, Dear Abby, you know who else believed that children are supposed to go to school every day instead of staying home and helping me kick some Promethean butt on Halo 4? Hitler, that’s who. Not so proud of yourself now, are you?
So, Douglas, stop sweating all of those arbitrary rules that Society tries to impose on you. And stop that actual sweating while you’re at it – what have you been Gangnaming for the past hour? This year, blaze your own New Year’s trail and resolve not to give a damn about what other people think you should do. Except that I’m already doing that, so you should pick something original. It’s a total faux pas to copy me like that.
By Denise
Perhaps I am able to escape the daunting resolution inquisition largely because I no longer work in an office environment. If that’s the key, count on me to work in my cozy, increasingly untidy remote home office until I require the aid of a walker with those brightly-colored tennis balls adorning the two front legs. To my way of thinking, the use of four tennis balls can be tacky and over-stated. I also wouldn’t want any more attention drawn to the unsightly orthopedic shoes, which are also sure to be necessary, but one cannot skip accessorizing altogether. The more classic tennis balls are sure to remain in style and it’s highly recommended to keep several different colors on hand. I have this on good authority.
Anyway, where was I? Right – co-workers and other over-zealous people with whom we have to interact. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems that the question, “What are your New Year’s resolutions?” can be translated as, “Aren’t you going to do something about your glaring problems? And wouldn’t now be a good time?” This is what we call “The Barrage of the Nosey.” I would love to develop that concept into a musical, yet since that is as likely to happen as my developing prostate issues before the day is out, I may commit the concept to poetry. Look for a limerick to come out sometime soon. “A feather is the world’s best tickler. And I have a problem in my region testicular.” It’s a work in progress and I may have wandered slightly off-topic…
It should also be mentioned to Douglas that there is infinitely more potential for candy consumption once the holidays are through. Don’t get me started on after-Christmas sales, which could be classified as its own holiday season. The best candy is marked down 50% on December 26th. You can still find loads of chocolate Santas, reindeer and those gold coins that have more to do with pirates than Christmas, but who’s complaining? For the more discriminating palate, coconut, peanut butter and caramel options are readily available as well. Moving into mid-January equates to deep pricing discounts. Now we’re talking, although pickings of the good chocolate get slim while anything with the word “gummy” in it is more abundant. However, this is about economics, and that particular section of a store is to be considered a “no judgment” zone, gummies and Santa desk clocks notwithstanding.
Piggybacking onto the confectionary traditions of other cultures is even something we can work into our routines, say, beginning in late-February. Everyone knows the span of time between Valentine’s Day and Easter can be a vast and lonely chocolate-free abyss. There must be a Viking festival or some Germanic day of observance that would culminate with a traditional tasty delight. And let’s not forget Canada which has more holidays than the actual number of days in a year – statistically, some of them must involve delightful treats. That’s simple math, friends. The world is a big place, so let’s work it to our advantage. Together we can unlock some serious candy potential.
By now, those with a pulse have figured out I am hungry and my diet is not going as well as planned. But since I made no formal resolutions about this, technically no failure has to be recorded. I can’t help with Gangnaming either, primarily since I can barely spell it. However, I do recommend watching your back to avoid any unplanned YouTube video uploads at your expense. There are things in life from which you cannot recover and that would be one of them.
Source:
http://relativelyfunny.com/new-years-resolutions-by-douglas/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=new-years-resolutions-by-douglas
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