Resolutions Are Like Old Lady Hips. Made To Be Broken...

It's 10:23pm on Wednesday night. The night before the last day of the year. 2009 seems to be ending the same way it started. I'm laying in bed, in my flannel, feety pajamas. I'm in pain. My abs are sore from doing P90X. It's not working. I feel uncomfortably overweight and I'm regretting the obscene amounts of BBQ I inhaled at supper time.

I will probably take a pain killer in a few minutes but not before I'm at least half way through this post; For I know it will be a race against time. This is a race I always lose. I will be unconscious shortly after. Unconscious is a good thing when you can't straighten your body. I have the posture of a giant prawn.

If I had to fight Estelle Getty in a cage match, I would lose miserably. I don't care if she's dead. It doesn't matter. I suck.

At this time last year, I posted: New Years Resolutions Are Stupid. I'm not going to get into it but suffice it to say, I botched just about every one of them. Isn't that what always happens to resolutions? We tend to make them for the wrong reasons, at our most vulnerable of moments. We put unrealistic expectations on ourselves. We never even give ourselves a fighting chance to succeed.

This year I promised myself that I would keep it simple and on the level. I will not place any unnecessary pressure on myself. What's most important this year is to be better, stay healthy and move forward.

I can throw some funny ass bullshit at you like last year, about fictitious resolutions that never get resolved. I could tell you that I resolve to create my own language, like in Avatar or that I'm gonna shave my pubes regularly but that's not being honest with you. I could also tell you how I am committed to vasectomizing myself this year, for the good of the planet and my wife's vagina. Except, I am too much of a pussy to go through with the procedure. I was thinking about resolving myself to learning braille, so that I could offer this blog to those who are living without the gift of sight. But that is just stupid talking. Shut up dickhead. You're too lazy and that's not funny.

Fuck all that shit.

I know what I need to do.

This summer, I got some new ink. It's a personal credo or a mantra of sorts. I put it on my arm so I wouldn't forget how important the words are. They have significance to me. It's really quite simple but I've always had trouble sticking to it.

WARNING! HOT SEXY JEW GUNS PICTURED BELOW.























Have Strength. Speak Truth. Give Love.

I figure that if I can do all three of these things, even just a little bit better this year, I will be a better man. I don't need to make a resolution this year. It will only get broken. What I need, is etched in my skin. A permanent reminder.

All I need to do this year is look in the mirror.

It's not a lot to ask of oneself.

Just be better.

Being Out-Numbered isn't so bad...

Oh and Happy New Year Peeps! I love you all.

While you're here, you might as well go check out my last Mamapop post of the year. Just click on the link below. It's like the cherry on top of your sundae.

Rumors Of Vision Quest Remake Are Giving Me Diarrhea.