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 ...