Dead Girls Don’t Dance

Ah, the New Year. A time to get really drunk, reflect on the past and wonder “What the HELL was I thinking?” Many people also resolve to change their ways. I don’t care to make life decisions while drunk or suffering from a pounding hangover, so I wait a few days into the new year before I even attempt to think about it.

I’ve thought about it, and all I could come up with was the same stupid shit everybody else makes resolutions about. Lose that last stubborn ten pounds, quit smoking, pay off my credit cards… yeah, right. The chances of me actually succeeding at any of those is about the same as my chances of growing giant butterfly wings and flying to Sri Lanka for the rest of the winter, which I why I usually don’t make resolutions. Besides, those resolutions are just boring.

But today, I paid Cookiebitch a visit. Now, THAT lady knows how to make a New Year’s resolution. She only made resolutions she believes she can actually keep, and I intend to adopt a few of her resolutions for my own. This one in particular:

When people piss me off, I will think carefully about what I say before I respond. This way I can be much more eloquent and original about how I tell them to go fuck themselves.

I’m inspired! I shall also make resolutions I can keep. Here goes:

* I will be more vigilant about dying my hair. I started getting grey hair when I was 16, and it’s the only thing keeping me from looking over ten years younger than my actual age. In fact, I’m likely to start dying it unnatural colours… again. I’m tired of trying to look normal, because it simply isn’t fooling anybody.

* I will stop apologizing for being vain. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to look and smell good, unless it’s the driving force of your personality (or lack thereof). I am not stupid or shallow, and shouldn’t be judged as such just because I wear makeup and underarm deoderant. The next time some stinky, hairy-legged pseudointellectual with bad skin, frumpy clothes, and chewed-off fingernails starts lecturing me on the evils of “society’s standards of beauty,” I will point out every way in which she is failing to meet those standards. If her feelings are hurt, that will mean she secretly agrees with those evil standards, and I win.

* I will buy more clothes and shoes. The last few years, I haven’t been buying myself any new pretties except to replace worn-out items. Granted, that’s because I’m perpetually broke, and have been living uncomfortably within my means, but if I’m still broke after several years of frugal living, obviously being frugal isn’t doing me a bit of good, and I might as well stop dressing like a bag lady.

* I will be nicer to Renfield. He’s the oldest of my cats, and I love the silly, useless, spoiled rotten creature to the point of irrationality. He’s a chubby, gentle, affectionate idiot, looks rather like a big, grey teddy bear, and at the venerable (for a cat) age of sixteen, he’s starting to get slow and creaky. I really shouldn’t tease him. It might be difficult, though; for some reason, he has always been bugfuck terrified of the rattly noise a plastic bag makes when shaken, and it’s JUST FUNNY to watch him scramble away with his tail all poofed out.

* From now on, I’m gonna raise hell at the “Ten Items Or Less, No Checks” express checkout line at the grocery store when some jackass who can’t read and/or count gets in front of me with 34 items. Or when some old lady spends 17 minutes fumbling around in her purse to write a check for eight prescriptions and an economy-size package of Metamucil because she doesn’t realize that “Ten Items Or Less, No Checks” is not an either/or statement.

Happy Frickin New Year.

Tags: semi-daily //