Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, January 06, 2005
new year's resolutions
Well it's over.

All the holiday fuss, all the time off from work/school, all the drinking too much and overeating - all of it, over. Done. Gone until next year.

And now it's January and I've got nothing to look forward to except it being really fucking cold for the next three months. And the annual Philadelphia Eagles collapse. And my annual trip to the emergency room on Valentine's Day because I ingested a near-fatal concoction of barbiturates, a liter of Ketel One, two pints of Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk ice cream, some old raisins I found under the stove, and a decent-sized handful of fingernail clippings. Sweet. Fucking sweet.

But it is the New Year, and I feel compelled to make some resolutions that I have as much chance of following through with as I do of winning the Boston Marathon or watching "Growing Up Gotti" without stopping to masturbate (um, to Victoria Gotti, of course).

But before I make some meaningless resolutions for 2005, I'd like to take a moment to look back at the resolutions of 2004 to see how well I fared or how much I completely disregarded them. In the words of William Wallace, "Do it, and let the Anglush see you do it."

2004 Resolution #1: Save $10,000 by the end of the year.

At the beginning of the year, I was at the height of my richness. I was paying a relatively small amount of rent, did most of my drinking indoors (because both I was afraid of the air and I ran into some trouble with the law that forced me to lay low for a while), and knew of several cheap places to both eat and drink in my old neighborhood, the Lower East Side.

But that all changed in spring when I moved to the Upper East Side, made famous by the theme song of the television show "The Jeffersons", or what I call "That show about those black people from the '70's who did a lot of dancing and had that catchy theme song". Things got much more expensive: the cost of laundry doubled, groceries are extremely expensive ($7 for a bottle of shampoo??? Does it come with a free baby???), cheap but cool and not-fratty bars are very hard to find, and cabs to and from my place to where I go out cost around $25 a night, possibly more.

[Also, I've been buying a lot more cocaine. If you should know one thing about cocaine, it's that it's fucking awesome. If you should know two things about cocaine, it's that it's really awesome and you should try to bum it off other people because it's super expensive. And awesome.]

So now I have nothing. I'm the poorest I've been since right after graduation, when I was forced to put naked pictures of myself seductively playing with lunchmeat on eBay and spent every Tuesday evening at a gentlemen's club in Harlem dancing pantsless to Prince songs ("Kiss", "Pussy Control", "Gett Off", etc) for singles and an occasional onion ring from a bunch of middle-aged black men. Not my finest moment. Certainly not my worst, but not my finest either.

Verdict: major failure, even for me.

2004 Resolution #2: Find an awesome place to live.

I don't think I really need to go into this. Lured by bells and whistles and shiny things like having an elevator (whose constant breaking down has caused me more anguish than my old fifth floor walk-up ever did), having doormen (who never bothered to learn my name but know it now because I didn't give them a holiday tip and who I recently caught working with the Chinese delivery guy trying to slip dioxin into my General Tso's chicken), and a gym and a pool (which I've not only never used but only looked at three times - twice by accident - after paying the $560 for yearly membership), I agreed to lengthen my commute by thirty minutes each way and increase my rent by $350 per month to live in the Upper East Side.

To quote Ron Burgundy, "Not a good decision."

Moving on...

2004 Resolution #3: Have sex with eight women at once.

I think we all know how this turned out. Even if I amended it to "See eight boobies in the course of the year without first paying a cover" or "Talk to a woman at a bar for eight seconds before getting an erection that she thinks is only my keys", I would have failed.

I mean, fuck.

2004 Resolution #4: Be more honest about my feelings with others and keep no secrets.

Finally, much success. I definitely think that I was much more open about how I felt both to my friends and to strangers in 2004. Some examples:

- To my friend Kevin: "To be honest, I never really liked you. Also, everyone talks about how bad your breath is behind your back."

- To my friend Lauren: "You should know that after you hooked up with Ed he told everyone that you have weird boobs. I propose that you hook up with me so that I can do some field research in the hope of setting the record straight. I have always wanted to have sex with you, and I think this is an opportunity in which both our best interests could be served."

- To my roommate Brian: "Do you remember when you told me that you beat off at work using a sandwich wrapper that you hot co-worker Kristen had left from her Subway sandwich? Well, I told some people, including your dad. Because that's just weird, dude. I mean, what the fuck."

- To my buddy Nick: "It's a shame you proposed to Vicky, because we all hate her. We've actually hated her for years, but I never told you this before because I didn't have this new New Year's Resolution. But god, she is a bitch, and me and the guys regularly send emails about how terrible she is behind your back. Such a shame."

There are countless examples, but these are the first that come to mind off the top of my head.

Verdict: excellent. Of course, I have about one-fourth of the friends I had this time last year, but hey - that's their loss. Assholes.

2004 Resolution #5: Be more racist.

The jury is still out on this one. Sure, I've said my fair share of off-color things at parties like, "What's the deal with black people and rims? And why were they always stealing my bike when I was a kid?" and "I hear Carla's new boyfriend is Puerto Rican or Dominican or from one of those Mexico-type countries - maybe I can get him to clean my apartment for a handful of pesetas and an long, oversized white t-shirt" and (to random Asian person) "What do you like better: karate or AP Calculus?" And yes, maybe it wasn't very PC of me when I got drunk at the Indian restaurant and started calling the waiter "Kumar", but at heart I just don't think I have the racism in me.

[And yes, I'm only saying this because I know that there are people of the non-white persuasion reading this, and I'm afraid they'll find me and kick my ass. I never said I was a strong man.]

So those were 2004's resolutions. Overall, not good (shocking - I know). And now I am proud to present, for the first time ever, my New Year's Resolutions for 2005.

2005 Resolution #1: Save $15,000 by the end of the year

I know, I know - I couldn't save $10G's last year, but this year I'm focused. And by "focused" I mean "talking out my ass."

I have, however, devised an aggressive savings plan. I have a Deer Park ten gallon water jug that I've been filling with silver coins since I moved to NYC in July of 2001. I have never dipped into this, and there's a lot of change in there (and it's all silver too; pennies go into a separate jar and are cashed in yearly).

But now I've added a new element: in addition to collecting the silver coins, I'm going to start throwing in paper money. The amount is based on a variety of factors, and serves two purposes - to get me to save money and to get me to cut back on my vices.

For example, every time I...

- Masturbate: I'll put in $1
- Masturbate in an exotic location (work, public restroom, middle-school talent show): $5
- Wish death upon an enemy: $3
- Wish death upon my cruel, tiny penis: $7
- Stay in on a Thursday night: $5
- Stay in on a Friday or Saturday night: $20
- Go to the "Erotica" section on craigslist and illicit some company: $50
- Cry when I'm drunk because a girl passed me by and she smelled nice: $20
- Cry when I'm drunk because I punched a moving car and it really hurt: $25
- Pee the bed: $50
- Shit the bed: $100

I should be up to $15G's by the summer (especially because of that "shit the bed" one).

2005 Resolution #2: Find an awesome place to live.

If any of you know any realtors in NYC, please get them to get in touch with me in May, because I am going to overpay tremendously for any apartment that is not my current one and is somewhere in the East Village/LES area. Good lord. I can see it now:

Realtor: [showing me a 7x9 studio apartment above an Indian restaurant that currently has a large homeless family squatting in it and no roof] "Feel free to look around. Sure, it needs some work, but $2200 a month for your very own place in the East Village is a steal!"
Me: [picking up used syringes from floor and sticking them in my arm] "I'll take it!"

I'm a simple man. I don't need a lot of room. I don't need things like a doorman, an elevator, or a gym. All I want is something that's close to where I work (way downtown) and close to where I go out (all kinds of places below Union Square). God I hope I can find it. Because otherwise, well, I don't even want to get into it.

2005 Resolution #3: Have sex.

This should be amended to "Have sex without paying for it directly". Jerk-off guys pimp the line of thinking that all women are prostitutes, because in order to have sex with them you have to take them out and pay for their stuff, so that the bottom line is that sex with them costs money, and that's prostitution.

These men have probably never been with a prostitute. Going on a date in which you enjoy some food and booze and steal an occasional cleavage shot while regaling your date with stories about the time you finished 13th in the Philadelphia City Spelling Bee in 7th grade or how you got hit by a car six times as a child is NOT soliciting prostitution. Taking your dad's truck and driving around the streets of South Philly at 5am after drinking for twelve hours to find some junkie to give $13 for a beejer IS soliciting prostitution. Are we clear on this?

[Where the hell did that come from?]

Anyway, let's all keep our fingers crossed for this one. Please.

2005 Resolution #4: Rejoin the gym.

It's getting to the point that it's becoming very disconcerting that I lose my breath when I stand up quickly, or that I need at least a four hour nap after each time I masturbate.

I have no delusions of grandeur about (re)joining the gym. I know that there will never be at time that I will be able to run through a meadow of daisies on a warm spring day, the sun shining upon my toned and tan body, as I leap and frolic into the arms of my lover, played alternatively by Josie Maran, Adriana Lima, and Kate Beckinsale. No, I know the more likely scenario would be me running into a field with a six-pack of Bud in me, stopping every fifteen feet to catch my breath or take a short nap, before deciding to forego the whole "running" idea altogether and pulling out some macaroni and cheese from my pocket, quietly sitting down to enjoy it.

But I am in terrible shape. As of right now, I can't even think about a gym without getting tired. Dialing a phone number can put me out of commission for three days. Chewing is exhausting, so I've been putting my food in a blender so that all I have to do is swallow it. I'm a few Reubens and carrot cakes away from having to install a pulley system in my bedroom to get me out of bed. I know I have a penis somewhere, but all I've seen for the past few years is a yellow stream of urine shooting from under my belly.

So I want to rejoin the gym. This is because when (if?) I do have sex again, I want to be healthy enough for sexual activity. I know that I have a ways to go, but never underestimate my determination.

(Actually, always underestimate my determination and you'll be better off)

2005 Resolution #5: Get super fucking famous.

I need this one way more than the others. The main reason I want to be famous is that I'd be so good at it. Getting fucked up, being surly, banging women who only want my money, alienating friends and family - I'm already 75% of the way there!

However, I'm not getting my hopes up, only because I don't think I could stand such a crushing let-down. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep on keepin' on and hope to god that someday soon I get to have sex with Lindsay Lohan. And there's NO WAY I'm going to wear a condom, even thought she's gotta have at least HPV. It's just not gonna happen.


So there you have it: my resolutions for 2005. Be sure to check back in a year to see how I did (if I'm still talking to you, which I doubt I will be, because we will surely have a falling out by the end of the year, probably in the summer).

<< Home

Powered by Blogger