Since I seldom fulfill any of the goals I set for myself, I thought I’d set 25 realistic, easily attained goals:
1. Bitch about money.
2. Bitch about the weather.
3. Bitch about politics.
4. Bitch about TV reception.
5. Bitch about glitchy, slow, ad-filled webpages.
6. Never, the fuck ever, meet an available, interesting, sane, age-appropriate woman to date.
7. Bitch the fuck continually about that.
8. Chunk off madly to pictures of Margaret Thatcher–maybe pictures of Margaret Thatcher on TV being strangely offended by the deaths that took place in Beijing. I think I actually like that one of Shine-head’s the best; it has such a deadpan beginning delivery.
9. Treat my body badly and be disappointed that I don’t feel as good as I did in my 20s.
10. Procrastinate, then do it some more.
11. Take almost nothing seriously.
12. Keep the base of the food pyramid in mind: caffeine, sugar and alcohol. One banana a day should cover fruit and vegetables.
13. Remember that chocolate isn’t only for women, and that a workday without a few M & Ms would be pointless. Why even get up?
14. Buy more bourbon and get back on that bicycle (the ability-to-drink-whiskey/water-like-a-fish bicycle).
15. Be continually mystified by whatever the software or webpage I’m currently looking at is doing.
16. Never rise from the computer chair at home other than to eat, drink, or use the facilities.
17. Check Facebook several times a night even though I hate it and only see something interesting on there about once every week or two.
18. Keep having a fantasy about me writing a book someday.
19. Keep thinking I’m a vampire who has limitless years in which to write that first, painful novel. Painful for the reader, that is.
20. Continue to think that re-writing is beneath me.
21. Watch Californication on Netflix and bitch that I don’t lead a dissipated, impulsive, fuckfest of a life like Duchovny’s character. Or have a job writing like he does, for that matter, even if it’s “just blogging” (I’m only a few episodes in so maybe he writes another book–I don’t know yet. I do know that if I drank all day long and drove around with a headlight out I’d be arrested, not be fucking every woman who walks, like he does).
22. Hate all mainstream modern music.
23. Hate all rich people.
24. Continue to wonder why all the hate from so many people for Nickelback. I mean, the main guy is fucking Avril Lavigne, for Christ’s sake, and even without that truckload of eye makeup she wears, she’s probably still pretty warm. He’s about 10 years older than Avril; if I was fucking Mary-Louise Parker, who’s about 10 years younger than me, people would think I was pretty cool, not hate me because my creative output was lame.
Bonus goal: Continue to put up videos of Sinead as if everyone hero-worships the loudmouthed tramp like I do. Don’t get your undies bunched up; I call my friends tramps and I consider her one (a friend, that is, well, maybe a tramp also, if you believe her) even though I’ve never met her.
25. Maggie–it always comes back to Maggie.