New Year’s resolutions
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of making New Year’s resolutions that don’t stick. This year, I’m resolving to do the feasible. I’m making a New Year’s resolution list that is sure to make it past Martin Luther King Jr. Day — maybe even past Thanksgiving.
• I want this year to start with a bang, so I’m getting bangs. Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten the Bangpocalypse of 1987, when I went to town with a pair of scissors — or the repeat offense in 2007. But it’s time to stop living in fear and take control of my harried relationship with my hair. In 2013, I’m getting bangs, but I vow to pay a professional to cut them.
• With spell-checker and auto correct, this isn’t really necessary, but in 2013, I resolve to finally memorize how to spell “necessary.”
• I vow not to take up smoking, drinking, crack, heroin, prostitution, meth or watching “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.”
• My name is Katie. I was named after the katydid bug, thus making Katiedid my first nickname. In high school, Katiedid was shortened to Did. I am called by all three names daily, causing no shortage of confusion to friends, family and new people whom I meet. So in 2013, I’m putting an end to all this madness. From now on, I’m introducing myself as Laura.
• At some point during this year, I finally will look up who came to Veronica’s bedroom in the season-one finale cliffhanger on “Veronica Mars.”
• In 2013, I’m not making any weight-loss resolution. If I actually get off the couch and move my tushie, fantastic, but I’m not committing to diddlysquat — or any other kind of squat, lunge or leg lift. I won’t be going on a diet; however, in 2013, I will put my 18-pound rabbit on one.
• I no longer will spit my gum into bushes. I’m pretty sure that one should’ve made my list back in 1994.
• I will make it through that Subaru commercial with the little girl in the striped shirt without crying.
• I will make it past a used-Jeep dealership without crying and/or looking for my beloved Wrangler, Todd, whom I had to give up in 2012.
• I will stop telling people I am a vegetarian. I’m a pescetarian; I eat seafood. And I will stop lying to myself and others by claiming that I would be a full vegetarian if only my anemia didn’t get in the way. Yes, I’m anemic, but iron deficiency isn’t what makes crab legs so goshdarn delicious.
• On that note, I will stop apologizing profusely when I go to California Chicken Cafe and order the California chicken salad sans chicken. I’m an adult, dang it, and I can order food a la Meg Ryan in “When Harry Met Sally” if I want to!
• I finally will watch “Goonies,” “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” and “Die Hard.”
• At some point in 2013, I will move away from pregnancy jeans, PajamaJeans, yoga sweats and any other pant with an elastic waistband. On second thought, let’s not get too hasty. How about I just promise to buy a pair of pants with a button or zipper?
• I won’t sweat the sticky stuff in my hair.
• I vow to stop wearing my red Miami University hoodie over my dress when I’m going someplace fancy.
• I want to take back the resolution not to laugh at calculator boob. I can’t possibly stick to that. Instead, I vow not to show my amusement in front of my niece’s parents.
• Odd as it sounds, in 2013, I want to create more of a Facebook presence.
• I will abstain from drop-kicking my neighbors’ evil yappy dog. Though, I cannot promise to abstain from drop-kicking my neighbor.
Bring it on, 2013. I’m feeling pretty good about you.