2018!! What the devilled egg. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was trolling chat rooms as email@example.com, stomping through my middle school hallways in beat up Doc Martens and babydoll dresses, praying that Jared Leto would take me to the middle school dance? I actually don’t know where the time went. But I digress; I am here to talk New Year’s Resolutions, but because I have -2% self control and full blown addiction to fun, I’m probably the worst person to do it. So, instead I’m going to write about some of the long term vices I’ve tried to vanquish with limited to no success, so that all you resolution breakers out there don’t feel so all alone. You’re welcome!
This is getting easier with the help of e-Cigs, but the problem is those little Apple remote-shaped bastards are about as easy to keep track of as a single sperm at a bukkake festival. I personally stopped because I had a very real fear that if I kept smoking I would somehow end up at a decaying bowling alley in Pennsylvania with a Newport 100 nestled in the right corner of my mouth, yelling at teenagers with my raspy, phone-sex operator voice, constantly coughing up Mucinex cartoon globs, spraying odor remover into bowling shoes. Success!
I used to be a insatiable book addict and now it’s like my brain has been hijacked by a Japanese ten year-old and stuffed into a pokeball and they only let me take it out to watch videos of accessorized guinea pigs courageously overcoming obstacles. I am working to fundamentally retrain my brain to work in analog. It’s so depressing. Medium success.
Stop eating meat
Considering I routinely order things like pancake bacon dippers (this is a strip of bacon covered in pancake batter – I know, it’s genius), this is not going well. Eating animals is gross and an ecological disaster, so this really is my main lifelong resolution: find a way to stop loving bacon. As an angry ex-Jew, it’s really, really hard. Eating bacon feels like I’m slapping the Keepah right off a Hasid’s head, and I love it. Massive fail.
Stop watching television
I really would like to stop watching things like The Bachelor but…I love it. No matter what is going wrong in my life, when I watch it I feel instantly better because even though I’m wearing only a crop top and one thigh-high sock, (#shirtvagin), eating chubby hubby with a fork while watching reality TV, at least I’m not vying for the heart of some dickless doofus and salivating like a Pavlovian bitch over a flower. Fail.
Wear matching socks
There’s a moment after drying my clothes where I stand in front of the machines and think to myself, “is this one of those days where I fold all my different black articles of clothing and then try to pair all mg socks with neon animal faces so I can have a triumphant Martha Stewart morning moment where I wake up to birds singing a song they’ve written just for me, and then reach into my underwear drawers that are lined with lavender sheets and pull out a ball of matching fresh socks?” Nah. Methinks not. Pile it is. Fail.
Refilling ice cube trays
This is a problem you fancy pants aristocrats with an ice maker don’t have, but I have been working towards this one for years. Whenever I have people over I am usually forced to buy those freshman year of college ice bags at the deli, which then melts into one glob on the walk home. I then spend hours trying to figure out how to Macgyver enough ice to make a measly cocktail using the weirdest objects with varying results. This usually ends up with me sitting on the floor, holding a broken chopstick and a warm drink, feeling extra sorry for myself. Epic fail.
Drink less alcohol
Do you drink boxed white zinfandel before 11am? Does your garbage can usually look like a recycling center? Have you ever told yourself that a bloody mary is part of the salad food group? Do you sometimes get so white girl wasted that you call your ex and say things that make you want to deadbolt your mouth and throw away the key? Who cares?! It’s winter! It’s the perfect time for drinking liquid charisma and making colossal, mortifying mistakes. Ok, so you may have to be on a transplant list one day due to your atrophied liver, but aren’t we all trying to live lives that are worthy of people writing memoirs about? No one wants to read the book about the nice perfect person who never had any fun. Fail.
This will always be a fail for creative types (who make no money) and live in New York City, (where you need all the money). This problem is squared by my insistence on spending every shekel I have on having all the fun and exploring the globe, living everyday like it’s my last. So suck it, people with a “savings account,” who know what a fixed rate interest is. Money is an illusion. It’s not backed by anything other than our perception that it’s real, so my need to hoard it is zero. I know, I know, I need it for “food,” and “rent,” but do I really? Yeah, fuck, I guess I do. I should probably start saving. Anyone know a good tax guy? Spectacular fail.
Stop using Uber and use the subway
Listen, I love the subway. It’s fast and full of art and music and full of colors and sounds. But…it’s winter and my lazy tuchus is racking up Uber bills every month that could feed a family of four in Minnesota for a year, and I honestly couldn’t be happier about it. God, it’s good to sit in a black Carola and talk to Mohammed about how he came to NYC and how much gas costs, instead of waddling around in my winter gear, sweating it out like a naked mole rat underground. Fail.
Leave NYC during winter
Well my popsicle ass is still here, hiding out, muddy Sorels by the door, my dog’s eyes brimming with shame as she’s forced to wear hideous overpriced dog balloon-boots…When will I be one of these bi-coastal bitches? It’s so annoying. I recommend everyone look into finding a rich old man with a heart condition who scares easily so you can say things like, “I winter in Mexico.” Fail fail fail fail fail.
Stop losing stuff
Keys, headphones, sunglasses, debit cards, one glove, iPhone chargers, dignity…Have you ever considered getting a staple gun so you can permanently attach certain things to your body? I sure have. Any time I buy something nice, especially headphones, this cold wash of fear sweeps over me; don’t sit on the headphones, don’t forget them in the taxi, train or airplane, are they charged, are they hungry? It’s exhausting. I honestly think it’s better to get the five dollar ones from the street meat kiosks that sound like the music’s coming through one of those childhood soup can phones, so you can just relax already. Speaking of which, I have had a three year resolution now to cover all my things in Tile tracking devices. Still haven’t done it, still losing everything. Fail.
Stop going out to eat/learn how to cook
Like most New Yorkers, I love going to long, multi-course dinners, which consume probably 98 percent of my income. But I recently fell for the perfectly curated marketing of Purple Carrot, a trendy vegan home cooking subscription service. My mother was a workaholic business woman who taught me about as many skills as Helen Keller had in the kitchen. So when I ordered this box, I had a steep learning curve, and here’s what I found; cooking takes forever, makes a mess and doesn’t have guaranteed results! To see if it was me who was the problem as per usual, I even got a pro chef friend to make their step-by-step recipes and even he was convinced it was written by drunk squirrels. Too much schlepping, way too much packaging and not enough snacking. Fail.
Put the screens down
Are you a techno addict who puts their phone next to their dinner plate and glances at it 1,000 times while pretending to listen to your companion? It’s not OK people, put the flippin phone away. Don’t you realize it’s a like a 21st century Poltergeist, slowly sucking your soul into a tiny box? Thank goodness this is the one I’m getting really good at. I turned my data off for Instagram and Twitter and now only use my phone for navigation, podcasts, and Facetiming my mom. Success!
Put toothpaste cap on
It’s the simple things in life that let you know you’re not a hurricane, leaving a wake of destruction every time you enter a room. Success!
The weird thing is, I’m pretty sure whomever you are, you’re good enough and you have enough already. Change is constant and essential, but perhaps try something even more radical in 2018; accepting who you and enjoying the beautiful bounty that is your current life. Unless you’re an out-of-shape writer, with student loans and a fantasy-based perception of the world, whose only way to feel superior is to watch the bachelor semi-naked, eating ice cream: then, possibly you need to make some changes. Which leads me to my next article! The fitness/nutrition editors of The Cools are going to whip my ass into shape. Stay tuned…