Well, I rang in 2014 in high style! That is, by falling asleep at 11:30pm and waking up shortly after midnight with just enough energy to brush my teeth. Oooh, but New Year’s bonus: remembered to floss! However, I had to cut said dental floss to an appropriate length using the designated pube scissors. (Dental floss dispenser spontaneously combusted a few days ago.) 2014 is looking just dandy for old Quinn!
New Year’s Day was gloriously relaxing, featuring only a mild hangover. I even got to indulge in one of my all time favorite rituals: transitioning from the previous year’s planner to the new year’s planner. I love cracking the spine on a new planner and entering important dates like holidays, birthdays, and the wedding anniversaries of all my exes.
Anyway, when I opened my 2014 planner to the first page, I was reminded that this is the sacred spot where I traditionally enter my New Year’s resolutions. Whoops! I had completely overlooked the whole resolution thing. So, I engaged my whiskey-withered brain and soon had drafted an insurmountably long list of things I need to change about myself.
Ugh. Why do we do this annual tally of all our failures as human beings? For example, one proposed resolution read: Learn fiddle (again), but this time better and with less quitting.
No, thank you. There’s not enough time in the world for me to even make a dent in my fundamental shittiness. Wait. Just. One. Minute. That’s it! Time! All I have to do is make more time in my life by minimizing time wasted. Then I will become a fully realized human woman instead of a dead-eyed husk person with bad skin. Bingo bango!
With this epiphany in hand, I was able to create my one (ONE!) resolution for 2014:
- Eliminate all celebrity gossip from life.
If I make just this one small change, I will recover almost inconceivable amounts of time which I can then devote to worthwhile pursuits like Irish step dancing and Pinterest. Goodbye, Kim Kardashian’s baby! Adios, Sean Penn’s abs! Au revoir, reality stars whose shows I do not watch but whose cellulite I still want to see captured in photos!
Shit, do British royals count as celebrities?
I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and New Year! Mine was excellent except for the moment on Christmas Eve when my 12-year-old cousin said the following in response to the revelation that both my sister and I are in our 30s: “No offense, but you look your age. Kimmie looks like, I dunno, 20 or something.” Hateful, hateful child.
My barely suppressed rage might explain why, when I awoke on Christmas morning, I discovered a massive hole in the wall of the guest room in my sister’s new house. I maintain that this is because her house was put together, er, bad. And not because I Hulked out during the night in a reaction to horrible (and obviously false) comments from family.