New Year’s always seems to be that time of year when people try to be good at things they generally aren’t, like that one time I convinced my mother to let me watch her dogs only to accidentally barter them for a life sized cheese sculpture of Newman from Seinfeld. Really, it could have happened to anyone. Also, it was delicious.
But this year I’m going to attempt to accomplish resolutions that are more my speed and/or do not result in my mother extracting me from her will.
Twenty-One New Years Resolutions. Let’s dance, bitch.
- Start managing Dave Coulier’s stand up career. This one might be a doozy since Dave generally enjoys things people don’t find funny and/or coherent, but I think I’ll just tell everyone he’s John Stamos. I’m pretty sure no one will notice.
- Start my own line of Skechers Shape Ups. They’ll have a trap door in the bottom of them where you can store a piece of pizza that “cures your asthma” and a “doctor’s note” that you can hand to your boss/pastor/policeman if they ridiculously state otherwise.
- Invent asthma curing pizza.
- Find Carmen Sandiego. She must be horrendously thirsty by now.
- Habitually dress like Blossom and then pick up a hobo who I’ll name “Six” and then fight with him until he lets me be Six and then fight with him again when I realize Six is a cooler name but being Blossom means you get all the boys and the chance to one day be on The Big Bang Theory opposite the lovably quirky Jim Parsons. Then I’ll change the hobo’s name to “Gary,” which I later learn is his actual name and that he’s actually not a hobo at all but my boss. I really need to stop taking Ambien.
- Stop taking Ambien.
- I recently just got a juicer so I’ll set up a juicing stand outside my house to make friends with the neighbor ladies by selling them Ambien spiked juices so I can raid their closets and “adopt” their shoes. I really wish people would stop whining about how much they hate shopping. Ambien exists. Use it.
- Make out with at least one member of Hanson, two members of New Kids on the Block and three members of our neighborhood watch committee.
- Barter my dogs for a cheese sculpture of Norm from Cheers. Oh God, my mom is right. I have a problem.
- Challenge a group of wet t-shirt finalists with the aftermath of breastfeeding.
- Kill math.
- Adopt a cat and dress it like me so it can act as my stand-in for work. Let’s face it, I get as much stuff done around here as Cat Ericka anyways.
- Narrate through song what people in my office are doing at any given moment: “Oh look, there goes Claire from accounting, oh yeah, she just picked her nose but pretended to just scratch it. Ooooh yeah!”
- End all correspondence with “Vagina, Ericka,” because after all, I’m a lady.
- I’ve decided to go vegan again so I think this would be a great time to tape baby carrots to my fingers and trademark them as “Veggie Nails.” I’m just kidding. All the time is a great time for that.
- I’m going to do that thing where you mimic everything someone else is saying. At the movies.
- I will buy my mother two new dogs that will most likely end up being pizzas that I accidentally eat on the way to her house.
- I’m going to set up a web cam in my home so I can have proof that Matt lets my dogs try on my clothes when I’m at work.
- I’m going to set up a booth at Barnes and Noble to sign copies of my stapled together book And Then I Keyed Your Car: The Ericka Clay Saga.
- I’m going to call your mother to tell her you’re on your way over. I told her you’re bringing a ham casserole. And your new boyfriend. She seemed pretty excited about all that so…sorry?
- I’m going to high five the whole world in the face.
What are your new year’s resolutions?