So the year turned over.

I meant for my first post to be the first day of the year, but like so many other good ideas I have, life hit them out of the park. I don't know who, if anyone, will be reading this, but since I've taken out all identifying information in this blog, I promise you stories of fuckups I have known with no punches pulled, sarcasm galore, and streams of near-unconsciousness all tied together with questionable grammar and morals.

Except for today, which is all about the things I mean to change this year.

1. Exercise. Yeah, it's everybody's resolution. So what. It's everybody's resolution because it's so hard to do. Let's face it, exercise is bo-fucking-ring. I would rather clean the toilet with my hair. If the vials of crack that GNC sells didn't make peoples hearts explode, I might consider popping a pill instead of making myself a sweaty, stinky, yoga-panted, painful mess. I run around all day after my kid, but it's not the type of exercise that makes the baby belly go away, so I'm doing something else about it.

And of course, by "something", I mean "buying Carmen Electra's Strip Aerobics DVD set". If Pamela Anderson thinks it's a good idea, well.....I''ll still try it anyway. My husband rolls his eyes when I ask for a stripper pole, but hey, if you have to work out, you may as well make it interesting. If it's not, well, that toilet can always use a good clean.


2. Paint the goddamn house. We bought my house from my gramma. (nothing morbid, she just didn't want to take care of it herself anymore.) The carpet in said house was installed when my mother was in high school. In 1960. It's avocado green short pile wall-to-wall carpet with dog hair and stains and holes worn through to the lovely hardwood floor underneath. (If I ran the universe, people who carpet over hardwood floors would have a plague of locusts invade their eyelids. Except my grandparents, who get a pass for everything because I love them like cake.)

We can't pull up this nasty mess until we paint, because I want it to be useful just once: as a dropcloth. Then I want to burn it in the backyard while laughing maniacally.

We've been in the house for four years now. Every year, we say "this is the year we paint.". Every year passes. Except this year. This is the year we paint.


3. Write. Here, specifically. I used to write in journals and diaries when I was younger, but that was because I was unhappy most of the time, and I write more when I'm unhappy. Then I met my husband to be, and as sappy as it may sound, I just sorta stopped. Life became a lot calmer, and even though we still have the ups and downs that are endemic of humanity, they just don't seem to shred me as much as they did when I was alone.

Unfortunately, a lot of the experience of the last 9 years has passed out of recollection, lost forever. If I have only a handful of posts at the end of 2007, it will still be a handful that wasn't there before.

It's wierd to me that I've now been with my husband for almost a decade. Wierder still that it encompasses nearly a third of my total years on this planet.

Anyway, that's all the resolve I can muster. That and making sure I do at least 75 crunches a day, and getting an IUD. But y'all didn't really need to know about that last one. My bad.

I promise next time I write I'll start telling the stories that inspired the title of this blog. I have a ton, and they just keep getting funnier.