Vanessa over at 5 Things About Nothing Important is hosting a blogging New Year’s Eve Party. Since I don’t anticipate my husband taking me out tonight (even though I bought a new dress, damn-it!), linking up on her blog is going to be my party for the day. Unless my husband super surprises me (doubtful). I know I mentioned my husband disappointing me again, and I had always promised myself I wouldn’t use this blog to air dirty laundry, but did I mention I bought a new dress? It’s purple and it’s really pretty. Okay … getting back to the blogging party. Vanessa encouraged those linking up to write a post in the style of her blog. I totally love her unique format, always writing five things on a chosen topic.
In addition to the standard “best of” lists that crop up at the end of each year, making resolutions and publicly announcing them also seems like a mandatory component of blogging. In truth, I haven’t made resolutions for years. I don’t think we need a certain date to make changes in our lives. If changes are needed, they can come at any time. We don’t need to wait for a whole new calendar year. I have this belief, and there’s also the fact that I almost always failed to meet my past resolutions when I was young and still participated in this practice.
Therefore, while I feel somehow compelled to make resolutions this year now that I have a blog, I also am going to make completely outrageous resolutions. This way, if I fail to meet said goals, I won’t be disappointed. If I actually do achieve any of these resolutions, however, I am going to scream and shout and make sure everyone knows how totally kick ass I am.
My first resolution for 2013 is to win the lottery – like big time million and millions of dollars lottery. Remember when I was all jacked up about the possibility of winning$100,000 in the “advent” lottery? Well, that didn’t happen. When I scratched the last date off and a gingerbread man didn’t appear, I was seriously crushed. I sat on the edge of the bed and sulked like a fucking baby. My husband had to come give me a hug and say, “It’s going to be okay, honey. I’ll buy you a crossword scratch off later this week. Now please get in the shower because we have to get over to your mom’s house for Christmas.” I was especially disappointed because part of me still honestly believes that if I believe something will happen strong enough, and announce it to be so with some level of confidence, I can make things happen. This all comes from the time I won a CD player in sixth grade. I was attending an “101 Better Things to Do” event, which were events that area schools regularly held at the time to encourage kids to keep off the drugs. One of the prizes was a CD player, which (admitting my age) was a big fucking deal because only really rich people had CD players then as they were relatively new on the market. I told all of my friends, with absolute, unfettered confidence, that I was going to win that thing – and I did! (I still have it. It flings CDs out now, and my youngest brother says it belongs on Antiques Roadshow.) Due to this win all those years ago, I still believe I can make things happen. I know that’s crazy, but if you’re surprised, I’m assuming you’re new to this blog. If you’ve been following me, you expect crazy. So, here, I publicly announce, with great confidence, that I am going to win the lottery. If you believe in me, I might share my earnings. I know there’s one individual, other than myself and my family, who also really wants me to win huge this year. Just before the last big national lottery (when that douche-bag Nolan Daniels dude scammed a bunch of facebook users into sharing his photo through a lottery hoax promising a share of his money), a study hall student asked me, “Mrs. Ryan, did you buy a lottery ticket?” When I told him I had, he replied, “Good. I hope you win.” I thought he was being very kind to me, which is atypical because really the kid is an annoying little asshole, but then he continued, “Yeah. I hope you win because then you won’t have to work here because I hate you.” I replied, “Very good then,” and walked away. However, I hope I win and don’t have to work there either. I am going to win.
This 1980's CD player is the best thing I ever won. My life is sad.
I am going to meet and make out with Justin Timberlake. I understand that he just got married in 2012, but Jessica Biel doesn’t hold a candle to me, people. Yeah, I don’t really believe that. I’m crazy, but not bat-shit crazy. There’s a clear distinction between these two. At any rate, sweet-faced, funny little JT has been on my short list for some time, and I resolve to make 2013 the year that shit goes down for real. Wait, did I say I wanted to make out with Justin Timberlake? Yeah, I meant fuck. Let’s be real, and it’s totally forgiven by my spouse because that’s the way the short list works. Hells yeah.
I am going to become an overnight blogging sensation and gain thousands upon thousands of followers. Then I will be contacted by some respectable publishing company and offered a book deal where I get to travel the world, eat a lot of food, and fall in love. If you’re paid in advance to do these things, it’s fucking easy to make publishable tales happen. Yes, this is me bitching about Elizabeth Gilbert and Eat, Pray, Love right now. Those stories didn’t unfold organically and the book is so god-awful and self-serving. Did you really “discover” yourself or did you write the book you promised you would when you were paid in advance to fall in love and find yourself? Fuck. My book will then become a film, naturally, but I don’t want Julia Roberts to play me. I am hoping for Megan Mullally, but she needs to lose twenty years in order to play me. Is that possible? Actors lose weight all the time for roles. They can probably take off age too. In the world where I’m going to start fucking Justin Timberlake and win a million dollar lottery “because I confidently said so,” this must be possible.
I’m going to run a marathon. I know that in comparison to my former resolutions, this one actually seems feasible. If you’re thinking this, though, you clearly don’t really know me. The chances of Justin Timberlake fawning over me are far more likely than me actually running. I have valid excuses for this though – like I have a bad knee. This is true; I broke it in a car accident years ago and it has never quite fully healed and still causes me occasional discomfort (especially after extensive exercise – like sex). Further, I have the valid excuses that I am really fucking lazy … and kind of a fat ass.
After I become an overnight blogging sensation, and get that book deal and subsequent film, my favorite author is going to become my biggest fan. What a strange turn of events indeed! The woman I admired for years will now be envious of my enormous talent. Naturally, she will want to meet me. We will make arrangements to meet over coffee (or wine … let’s be real, wine). After spending a few hours together drinking Pinot Noir and discussing literary movements, we will become the bestest friends in the whole wide world. She’ll become the godmother of my next child and we’ll enjoy each other’s company so much that she will visit just to talk with me while I fold laundry and watch re-runs of 30 Rock on Comedy Central. All of this becomes even more improbable if you know my favorite author is Jane Austen. Jane Austen, who died in 1817, is going to be my bestie. This is likely, however, should there actually be an oft-predicted zombie apocalypse. Zombie Jane Austen and I will have lots of fun times together. My daughter, Emily Jane (middle name after Austen) will be one of the few survivors of the apocalypse because my father has had her in “zombie training” since age three months (that is a true story). I’m not entirely sure what this training consists of, but my dad regularly reminds me that he and Emily are ready for the zombies. I’ll be ready too because Zombie Jane Austen totally has my back y’all. That’s what best friends are for.
Best Friends FOREVER!!
Zombie Jane Austen wants to know what your resolutions for 2013 are.