Resolutions and Goals for 2016:
Write the great American Novel.
Keep the house clean
Get a new job that makes more money
Do 100 things that make Mrs. M happy
Learn 100 new things
Exercise and lose 30 lbs.
PROBABLY NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.
I can’t even type on this laptop without the mouse skipping the cursor around and me swearing, so t #3 hat’s # 1 and FUFUCKCK FUCK FUCK!!!!’
Yeah, this list sounds great, doesn’t it? But it’s not bloody likely.
I’ve looked back at life and it seems like I’m the pressure valve for everybody else, and frankly, I’m fucking sick of it.
For anyone else, who I would describe as “normal,” such a list might be completely reasonable and very possible. But here’s my list of resolutions–I’m going to do the following in 2016:
1) be realistic.
I was just typing and a whole fucking paragraph highlighted itself and erased itself because I have a stupid laptop and it does that shit, which is why I can’t write the great American novel. If I did, my computer would fucking erase it.
My wife watched Ellen today and I was a captive audience. I have a confession to make: I fucking HATE Ellen Degeneres. It’s not her; it’s me. I know, Ellen could buy and sell me like a million times and not care, and she does good things for her fans. I hate her like I hate all of the talk show hosts (except now-retired Craig Ferguson.).
It’s not their fault. Except the really stupid irritating ones. Irritating are the so-called “experts” who tell people how to live, what to eat, what to read, what to buy (because everyone SHOULD just have enough money to do that(recognize them?) Smug rich irritating ass holes.
I once heard a fucking preacher tell an audience of men that we should all just give our wives a fifty in the morning and tell her to buy herself something nice. Except I don’t have an extra fifty to do that. And I wonder how many men in that audience wanted to tell him he was an arrogant rich shithead for telling us we should be able to do that. I never went back to that group. And never bought any of their fine Christian literature again either, because if I’m going to spend that fifty, (over three or four purchases, because I don’t roll that high), it’s going to be on Mrs. M.
I suppose I’m too poor and realistic and that’s why I’m not a preacher.
The next show was Dr. Phil, smug, rich fucker Dr. Phil tells fucking EVERYBODY how to live. I shut that shit off before it started. But Ellen was chatty about her domestic partner. And after that segment Duran Duran is back after like 20 years of silence, with their “We-need-more-money-to-afford-our-lifestyles Tour.” Their 80s vibe came on strong, but they sang my new years resolution: “Pressure Off.”
Surprisingly, the first song they sang was about being anti-consumerist, although I’m sure that backstage they joked, like the old Ringo Starr song, that they secretly hoped everyone would buy the album. Like most fluff, they didn’t say a whole lot, but they said:
I want that, selfishly, for me. I can’t do life like everyone, including my family, tells me to. Because they think everyone should be doing the rat race of keeping up with each other, buying the newest latest and greatest, and just happen to have an extra fifty lying around every fucking day for Mrs. M to splurge on herself.
FUCK EVERYONE, especially that kind of presumptuous, smug shithead. When my lottery ticket comes back as a winner, that’s still my happy fucking new year sentiment for everyone who tells everyone else how and what to do and be: FUCK YOU.
Anyone else notice that Depression and Pressure have the same root? Makes me wonder if those wise old people who invented language were maybe onto something. I’m going to avoid accepting unnecessary pressure in 2016. It’s my new goal in life. I bet it helps my mental health, and probably my physical well-being as well.
PS. I remembered the Ringo song, and found it here: