New Year's Resolutions are for suckers and Mexican people

Prior to 2011, I had the best intentions of making and keeping my New Year's Resolutions. They were to quit smoking, take my writing more seriously and to be an all around nicer person. But then I had a shitty night, so that went out the fucking window. I thoroughly believe that it is completely justified to vito your resolutions after a bush league New Years. In fact, I'm going to do the opposite, just to spite you, Baby New Year. You can suck it.

I no longer want a writing career, and I'm going to smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day. I'll call your mom a whore, and throw little balls of tin foil at you. I'll aim for your mouth. The balls of tin foil will be from all the Hershey's kisses I will eat. The same Hershey's kisses that I have no intention of sharing with you. Then maybe next year, Baby New Year will think twice about hasslin' me.

Okay, so maybe none of that stuff is true. A tad fabricated. I do plan to put my nose to the grind, and hopefully get published at some point in 2011. If I don't, that's cool too. I'll just have to call your mom a whore AND egg your house. I have no qualms with that. I also plan to quit smoking. Not today, but I will. And if I don't, it's okay. I'll just call your mom a whore and egg your house. Still no qualms. But this whole being nice crap? I sincerely don't think I have it in me. There is literally the smallest fraction of niceness imaginable, in my genetic makeup. You might be able to tell on account of me wanting to call your mom a whore and egg your house. Nope. No qualms here.

Exhibit A: I was in the middle of a conversation last night, and a guy that I don't really like (we'll call him Fred Savage) yells “CHELSEY? CHELSEY MARTIN? IS THAT YOU? IT'S ME! FRED SAVAGE!”

So, I do the old 3 finger wave and try to continue on with my story. His friend sitting next to him (we'll call him the guy who looks like a frog, whom I've met a handful of times over the years) interrupts again, and says “And I'm the guy who looks like a frog! I don't know if we've ever met.”

I looked him square in the face and said “Nope.” And turned in the opposite direction.

Exhibit B: As it just so happens, I had my top of the line, state of the art, brand spankin' new Justin Bieber microphone in my back pocket. (Don't make fun of me, we're in love.) So, as the night progressed, I decided to practice my interviewing skills. How else am I going to hone my craft? I spotted a fella who looked very eager to be interviewed by yours truly. I walked up and said “So, you look like you belong on Jersey Shore. How do you feel about that?” Slightly taken aback, he asked why. I proceeded to tell him “You have a spray on tan, you're wearing a V neck t-shirt, and your hair might be 3 inches tall. How do you feel about that?”

Needless to say, the interview was over.

So, long story short, (or was that short story, long?) I just feel like being nice this year isn't going to work out. I have a lot on my plate. Lives to save, homework to do, hogs to feed, dishes to wash, periods to have, funny stuff to say, mirrors to look into... All in all, it's just not a good time for me. Maybe next year. Or maybe not. But it's okay, I'll just call your mom a whore and egg your house.



Happy 2011!