irresolutions v. 1
Summer, that sloppy, sandy, overtanned, oiled-up ol' beach floozy that you somehow can't forget, is pulling out of your driveway in tears. She's done with you and your bullshit and she's determined to find someone who will make her feel like a lady. Meanwhile, Autumn's texting you that she wants you to meet her parents. This is serious.
As the mornings get cooler and the crops come in, it seems like a good time to reflect on life, rue old fuckups, and make grand plans we never intend to act upon.
Here then is my first set of Irresolutions, stuff I kinda hope to do in the upcoming months, but -- let's face it -- probably won't. It's mostly the same old crap. And, when appropriate, I'll pepper in a few pieces of related information I've gathered over the years.
I. Normally I'd make a resolution to just ignore the assholes, to let 'em have their moment rather than stooping to their level. Fuck that. My new plan: just stoop, baby. When an asshole pipes up and sprays me with their asshole talk, I am spraying right back. No free asshole rides anymore. You say something obnoxious, hurtful or insulting to me, it is coming right back at you and I'm putting a little Trappey's Hot Sauce on there as well. You're warned, asshole.
II. Man I need to drop 20 lbs. Reasons are many:
-delay arrival of first heart attack at 46 and premature death at 59;
-gain ability to dunk basketball backwards while shouting Garnettlike stream-of-consciousness obscenities of joy;
-look better in clothes;
-look better out of clothes;
-feel sexy like a sexy man should.
To achieve this shit, here are a few things I should do but won't.
-Give up soda (will actually do this -- in fact, holy shit! I just did).
-Cut out chips. Chips are my fucking weakness and we gots all kinds of free chips at work. It's a problem. Man I love chips. Right?
-Stay away from the chunky chews.
-Ride my bike/walk/run to work.
-Jog around outside.
-Swim. ha ha ha.
-Lift weights. ha ha ha. oh my God you totally got me on that one!
-Eat good food for lunch at least three days a week, and horrible food only like once a month.
-Kick my vegetarianism to the curb and start eating fish.
This might be a good time to point out that somebody once told me you are allowed exactly two loud awkward slurps at the bottom of a milkshake. Any more than that is rude. Also, many urinal-mates have told me that if you shake it more than twice you're playing with it. I am not sure if these two rules are related. Whatever, I can't be drinking milkshakes or masturbating in public anyway.
III. Get in a good weekly hoops game, preferably against anemic dwarves with spotty outside shots and poor ballhandling skills. Then and only then can I dominate. Otherwise I might as well retire.
IV. Get on top of shit at work, at least to the point where I don't feel like I'm always one step away from chaos/panic/disaster/personal humiliation. This can be done. It's not just on me, we need to get our whole ship moving a little more steadily, and then when the storm arrives we're not running around wildly like a bunch of desperate sea monkeys.
Related: never settle for a metaphor as lame as "running around wildly like a bunch of desperate sea monkeys" again.
V. See the Hold Steady/Drive-by-Truckers show when they come here. Who's in? No, I mean BESIDES The Hold Steady and the Drive-By-Truckers. Alright, who needs you.
VI. Read a book every two weeks. I may have to count my kid's night-night books for this to work. But man, there's nothing like being carried away by a good book. Except maybe Fritos. Oh Lord my feelings towards Fritos are nearly sexual.
Hey, I said NEARLY.
VII. Switch from Budweiser products to Miller products to support one of my favorite states, Wisconsin. It's like the only one still brewing there, right? Shit, just found out Miller is in business with Coors. What should I drink? Pabst? Old Style?
VIII. Become more aware of what's going on in my family and more involved in its future. They need me to be at suspected-performance-enhancing-drugs-user levels of productivity. I can do it.
IX. Do a better job managing my money. I would settle for a better job physically managing my cash -- the loose bills in my pocket and the ratty receipts in my wallet. My pop was the same way.
X. When pissed off at someone, vent about it to others only when completely necessary and appropriate. Talking shit behind people's backs is weak. Confront directly if at all possible. Most likely I will continue to seethe silently.
XI. Attend one more game at Yankee Stadium before they rip it down. I haven't been to a game yet this year. Ah, who really cares? The stadium has no real personality, and the whole thing already got redone like 30 years ago. Oh well, we'll always have Ken Griffey Sr.'s 1983 catch to remember it by.
XII. Wear my nice soft new hoodie to work when it's between 50-60 degrees outside. I love hoodies. I suspect they love me too but the consequences of admitting it are too dire for them to ever say anthing.
XIII. finish my t-shirt based on this design:
...and live in accordance with its lofty ideals.
As the mornings get cooler and the crops come in, it seems like a good time to reflect on life, rue old fuckups, and make grand plans we never intend to act upon.
Here then is my first set of Irresolutions, stuff I kinda hope to do in the upcoming months, but -- let's face it -- probably won't. It's mostly the same old crap. And, when appropriate, I'll pepper in a few pieces of related information I've gathered over the years.
I. Normally I'd make a resolution to just ignore the assholes, to let 'em have their moment rather than stooping to their level. Fuck that. My new plan: just stoop, baby. When an asshole pipes up and sprays me with their asshole talk, I am spraying right back. No free asshole rides anymore. You say something obnoxious, hurtful or insulting to me, it is coming right back at you and I'm putting a little Trappey's Hot Sauce on there as well. You're warned, asshole.
II. Man I need to drop 20 lbs. Reasons are many:
-delay arrival of first heart attack at 46 and premature death at 59;
-gain ability to dunk basketball backwards while shouting Garnettlike stream-of-consciousness obscenities of joy;
-look better in clothes;
-look better out of clothes;
-feel sexy like a sexy man should.
To achieve this shit, here are a few things I should do but won't.
-Give up soda (will actually do this -- in fact, holy shit! I just did).
-Cut out chips. Chips are my fucking weakness and we gots all kinds of free chips at work. It's a problem. Man I love chips. Right?
-Stay away from the chunky chews.
-Ride my bike/walk/run to work.
-Jog around outside.
-Swim. ha ha ha.
-Lift weights. ha ha ha. oh my God you totally got me on that one!
-Eat good food for lunch at least three days a week, and horrible food only like once a month.
-Kick my vegetarianism to the curb and start eating fish.
This might be a good time to point out that somebody once told me you are allowed exactly two loud awkward slurps at the bottom of a milkshake. Any more than that is rude. Also, many urinal-mates have told me that if you shake it more than twice you're playing with it. I am not sure if these two rules are related. Whatever, I can't be drinking milkshakes or masturbating in public anyway.
III. Get in a good weekly hoops game, preferably against anemic dwarves with spotty outside shots and poor ballhandling skills. Then and only then can I dominate. Otherwise I might as well retire.
IV. Get on top of shit at work, at least to the point where I don't feel like I'm always one step away from chaos/panic/disaster/personal humiliation. This can be done. It's not just on me, we need to get our whole ship moving a little more steadily, and then when the storm arrives we're not running around wildly like a bunch of desperate sea monkeys.
Related: never settle for a metaphor as lame as "running around wildly like a bunch of desperate sea monkeys" again.
V. See the Hold Steady/Drive-by-Truckers show when they come here. Who's in? No, I mean BESIDES The Hold Steady and the Drive-By-Truckers. Alright, who needs you.
VI. Read a book every two weeks. I may have to count my kid's night-night books for this to work. But man, there's nothing like being carried away by a good book. Except maybe Fritos. Oh Lord my feelings towards Fritos are nearly sexual.
Hey, I said NEARLY.
VII. Switch from Budweiser products to Miller products to support one of my favorite states, Wisconsin. It's like the only one still brewing there, right? Shit, just found out Miller is in business with Coors. What should I drink? Pabst? Old Style?
VIII. Become more aware of what's going on in my family and more involved in its future. They need me to be at suspected-performance-enhancing-drugs-user levels of productivity. I can do it.
IX. Do a better job managing my money. I would settle for a better job physically managing my cash -- the loose bills in my pocket and the ratty receipts in my wallet. My pop was the same way.
X. When pissed off at someone, vent about it to others only when completely necessary and appropriate. Talking shit behind people's backs is weak. Confront directly if at all possible. Most likely I will continue to seethe silently.
XI. Attend one more game at Yankee Stadium before they rip it down. I haven't been to a game yet this year. Ah, who really cares? The stadium has no real personality, and the whole thing already got redone like 30 years ago. Oh well, we'll always have Ken Griffey Sr.'s 1983 catch to remember it by.
XII. Wear my nice soft new hoodie to work when it's between 50-60 degrees outside. I love hoodies. I suspect they love me too but the consequences of admitting it are too dire for them to ever say anthing.
XIII. finish my t-shirt based on this design:
...and live in accordance with its lofty ideals.
Labels: irresolutions
posted by hans q. bungle at 00:14
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