2010 - Free Flowing Pipes and other Resolution Types

So here we are, it's 2010 and I'm back home in Philly after a red-eye flight from Phoenix. I'm pretty wrecked from lack of sleep, screwed up diet and jet lag.

Which is to say, just about my normal self.

I'm going to kick off my New Year's Resolutions today (no waiting for Chinese New Year for me this time - well, maybe for some of the more challenging resolutions, but not all of them). I've been batting back and forth exactly what these resolutions should be, of course. They're much harder to keep when you're not sure what they are, after all. Or much easier, depending on your perspective.

So ... ?

• Exercise. This is an easy one. In short, get more of it. Now, the most straightforward manner in which to tackle this one would be to join a gym. I'm not very straightforward though. First I need to get into good enough shape to confidently expose my body to the public ridicule a gym invites. So I'm first setting up a two month private regiment of calisthenics to get to that point.

• Diet. Bluntly, I gotta get regular. I mean Activia * Super Colon Blow * Phillips' Colon Health = Me in 2010. Last year was a world of shit on many levels but alas they were all metaphorical. I'm looking forward to a world of shit in 2010, but only in the literal sense of the term. I just need to keep to the philosophy of my new mentor, Phillips' The Colon Lady: don't ever quit / in your quest to take a shit. I'm paraphrasing, but you get the gist.
  

• Sell my house. Or at least fix it up to the point where it might possibly be sold for more than the spare change in the pockets of prospective buyers. And before it morphs from a sort-of Money Pit to a super massive Big Bucks Black Hole from which no income can escape. My idea of home repair is switching the channel to an episode of This Old House and even that doesn't hold my interest for very long. That's generally as close as I get. I was made for urban condo/townhouse living, it just took me a decade or so to realize it. Fuck it, that's a lie: I knew it almost right away. The sewer backed up and flooded the finished basement of the decapitated "animal house" a group of us had been renting prior to my purchase, making it almost instantly unlivable (that basement housed two of the four bedrooms). The drunken landlord who used to steal our beer and lined the insides of the walls with the empties attempted to shovel the shit out but he was comically incompetent and besides there was no turning back. I had convinced myself that it was time to buy and rushed the process given the sea of human waste in my rear view mirror gaining on me. One year after closing, I was ready to sell. Fast forward another nine years and I'm really ready to sell. Funny how the topics of fucked up pipes and shit keep coming up.

• Meet the gal of my dreams, go all romantic comedy crazy, and live happily ever after. This would be tops on the list but I'm fairly unlikely to achieve it and I don't want to place the bar too high only to disappoint. Baby steps. A few push-ups and sit-ups. Regular trips to the can. A job I don't feel sick to my stomach going to each day and a home I don't feel nauseated returning to each evening. Once those are in place, perhaps then I can aspire to greater heights. Besides, I've been rocking the eHarmony thing the past little while, so technically I'm working on the resolution. Thus far, no long term sparks. Perhaps they discovered this blog and then subsequently ran for the hills? :-)   I sound like Barney Miller's Fish half the time here, and I imagine that's generally not too attractive. Unless you happen to be a budding Bernice.
 

 

And now for something completely different: a non-sequitur I just had to share ...

On E!'s The Soup as part of their Clipdown '09 retrospective they were flashing an excerpt from one of the daytime judge/court shows that hit my funny bone pretty hard, though you likely have to see it to get it. One of the complainants worked as a prostitute at Nevada's Bunny Ranch and she was rattling off her life's accomplishments thus far, including an honorable discharge from the Air Force and the "Air Force's highest academic award, which I've used extensively in my 19 years in the Nevada brothel industry."

The judge inquired as to how one goes from the Air Force to the Bunny Ranch. Her response? "Well, it's only like an hour away." The Air Force must be so proud.

Well, I'll be blogging little over the next couple of weeks while I plunge into work to do the transition dance.  Thereafter, I may have quite a bit more time for blogging and such as I'll be taking at least a week off prior to moving onto the next phase of my career.  If I get lonely, perhaps I'll join the Air Force ...

Proactive Procrastination

Ahh, December.  The month of lists - the best and worst of the year ending and predictions for the year to begin.  It's also the month where many of us begin to take stock of personal accomplishments (or lack thereof) and to devise goals for the new year.  And of course many come in the form of the dreaded New Year's Resolutions.  As for me, there are definitely some things I need to get straight in my mind and then translate to action come 2010.

For instance ...

Cherry Coke Zero is not water, despite containing it.  It is not nearly as good for me, especially when consumed by the gallon on a daily basis.  Though probably much better than gin or beer or rat poison, certainly at the volume we're talking about here.  So I'm getting closer but have some work to do still.

Watching A&E's Sell This House does not constitute actually going about selling my house.

Vitamins provide no nutritional value unless I actually ingest them (glancing at the bottle sitting on the windowsill of the bathroom each morning doesn't qualify).  Vitamins are generally overrated but given my piss poor diet, they certainly can't hurt.

Though technically "exercise", traversing the "treacherous" staircase connecting the first and second floors of my house is not exactly scaling Everest.  Though to be fair, I have no Sherpa to guide me and generally make the journey without aid of supplemental oxygen (thus far).  Still, I need to develop and stick to a regular - and more importantly, real - exercise regiment.

Really I'm just being proactive in devising my list of New Year's resolutions I plan on subsequently ignoring, rather than waiting until the last minute to do so, as is my normal M.O.

Anyway, I usually throw up my Chinese New Year dodge when January 1st arrives, giving myself another several weeks of guilt-free procrastination.  Sort of like the groundhog seeing his shadow - it means ~six more weeks of last year.  Then the dragons dance down Arch Street in Chinatown here in Philly, the firecrackers explode, The Year of the Something turns the page to The Year of the Something Else and the guilt kicks in full stride: the gym not joined, the junk food not trimmed down, the house not repaired/cleaned/sold (or repaired and cleaned so that it might be sold).

But I will get a haircut today.  So there's that.  And I did go for a run yesterday (well, more a trot).  Baby steps.

And the upcoming year will be different!  After all, Chinese New Year 2010 is the Year of the Tiger and so was 1962, the year I was born.  That surely means something (it only happens every 12 years, according to the last menu I read).  Plus it falls on Valentines Day and that's gotta be some sort of sign too (besides the introduction of the Vermont Teddy Dragon - or Teddy Tiger - to complement their Teddy Bear).

The end of this god awful "00s" decade means it's time to start fresh.
Who knows?  I might just go crazy and get a hair cut and go for a run every month next year.