I don’t really do new year’s resolutions. Sometimes, I’m definitely tempted, but I know what will happen – nothing.
I’m one of those people who has to be ready to do or not do whatever it is; an arbitrary due date that forces me into trying to change some awful behaviour or other will only result in failure, at least for me.
It’s much better for me to think about what I won’t do rather than about what I will do. At the very least, it’s the kind of whimsical bullshit that puts me to sleep at night, so it does accomplish something.
As a result, I have created the list that none of you has been waiting for – the top ten things that I resolve to not do. I can now bask in the rationalization that sometimes, making new year’s commitments is very hassle-free.
1. Go parachuting. The only way I would do this is if the airplane is on fire and James Bond is not available to rescue me.
2. Pierce a body part. I pierced my ears when I was 17. That was enough. Starting a personal relationship with Hitler would be more attractive.
3. Get a tattoo. That whole fad is starting to get ridiculous, especially among the oldsters, who are making themselves look older by trying to appear younger. If you ain’t where you are baby, you’re nowhere, and that particularly applies to age.
4. Join Facebook, again. If you want to see narcissism in action, Facebook is the place to go. The oneupmanship/mea culpa crap is nauseating. The idea that we want to know your every move and your every lame thought – well, don’t strain yourself. I don’t need to know that it burns when you pee. Just quietly visit a doctor and quietly inform the source of your “Burnin’ Love.” Otherwise, this information is not important, and neither are you. In fact, I would rather eat a bug than read your stuff.
5. Eat a bug. I’m not planning on joining a reality tv series situated in some remote jungle where the only food sources are bugs, eyeballs and leftover toenails. Or something else that’s equally gross.
6. Enjoy shopping for a new bathing suit. Now, those of you who “know” me know that I hate shopping. Shopping for a bathing suit? Stuffing a pine cone up my nose would be an easier task.
7. Climb Mt. Everest. I gave up backpacks when I left the army. Ditto tents, cold beans and ropes. Doing that same crap in -50 while the wind is howling and you’re about to run out of air sounds about as logical as performing brain surgery with a pair of pliers. Just because “it’s there” doesn’t mean you have to do it. Cars are “there.” I don’t jump in front of them to see if their brakes are working.
8. Start eating Kentucky Fried Chicken. M calls this stuff “the dirty bird.” That is descriptive, isn’t it?
9. Open my own shoe store. I only like comfortable shoes and hate it when my feet hurt. I would never try to make people feel like they have to wear the crap that supposedly keeps them “fashionable.” Have you noticed those shoes that make a woman’s foot look like a hoof? Giant ugly platforms with squared toes that especially on petite women, call to mind Henry VIII’s armour. The feet, not the codpiece. Anyway, I’m relieved to see that they are starting to wane.
10. Run for public office. I don’t think that I’m suitable. Really. I’m not narcissistic enough, deluded enough, disrespectful enough or suffering from megalomania enough. Now, if only the rest of the world would listen to me. After all, I have all the answers. And remember, it doesn’t matter how you get there, only that you do.
See, that was easy, wasn’t it? Do you have a list of stuff you know you won’t do? Share your thoughts, please!
So this year, I’m going to be participating in Rule of Stupid’s rather suggestively named Come for Company project (RoS just can’t help himself!) where bloggers can support other bloggers who are maybe feeling left out at this time of year. He ran it last year and this year – with Rarasaur hosting – as “Company for Christmas”, but has since decided to do an expansion, an awesome idea! 🙂
Anyway, I think I signed up. Technologically, I’m not the brightest knife in the drawer. Er, sharpest bulb in the drawer … knife in the socket? Whatever. You know what I mean. The lights might be on, but there’s no knives in the drawer.
Nevertheless, drop by, take a look, decide if you would like to volunteer or maybe you would like to participate.
C4C had an amazing year. There were 149 different visitors just on the day, with 1,635 comments. Last year we had 335 comments, which means we had over 500% more chat this year!
Partly I think the new system made it easier to manage, and easier for visitors to navigate. Of course, the sprawling readership of Rara helped, as did the numerous people who posted badges. My thanks to everyone.
There was talk about doing C4C for other times of year. Perhaps I’d need to change the blog name for that? And not to Company for Valentines Day which unlikelyexplanations pointed out would be C4VD! Ick! We will see.
Meanwhile, this next bit might be easier, and also a bizarre experiment of a kind.
Company For New Year?
I can’t help but think that watching the new year traverse the planet through the window of C4C comments…
You know, the stuff you eat. Well, I suppose you eat it. I mean, from what I’ve heard, no one eats it. It gets shoved into the back of some cupboard, or into the corner of a freezer, and there it stays until is discovered, like an Indiana Jones artifact. You have to dig it out with a pick.
And by then, it will have acquired the density of a hockey puck.
But my questions is, if so many people hate it, why does it keep showing up on store shelves? Somebody must be buying this dreck.
And what about the people who make them?
If you stop and think about it, there’s an awful lot of fruitcake around at this time of the year, and if you can find one person who says he or she likes it, then you’re farther ahead than me, my friend.
My mother used to make fruitcakes. She would start in September so that they would age properly.
“Age” properly??? I don’t get it. They are the only thing on the face of the planet that doesn’t age.
If Armageddon were to occur tomorrow, the only thing left would be fruitcake. It would be a sea of fruitcake. You would have to elbow the fruitcake out of the way. Every fruitcake that everyone in the world has ever been hoarding would float to the surface, bobbing there like little brown pontoon boats.
Sorry. I just had to have a mini-rant.
Anyway. Once she had made them, she would store them in cake tins and every couple of days, she would take them out and paint them with rum.
Now, I’m half French. And I was raised mostly around my French relatives. And to me, and them, the whole fruitcake thing was a complete mystery. Why would you put this lurid neon fruit that you would never eat by itself for fear of contracting a dread disease, into a pan of perfectly good batter, leave it for months, douse it in rum, and then oooh and ahhh over it?
I suppose it had to be doused in rum. That was the only thing stopping it from getting up and walking out and starting its own colony.
Anyhow, once it emerged from hiding, my mother would spend the rest of the holiday coaxing, cajoling and ordering people to eat it.
I mean, I know that there used to be a time when fruit had to be preserved and anything sweet, especially at Christmas, was a delicacy.
But my goodness! We aren’t eating hard tack any more, so what’s with the fruitcakes?
And those blanched nuts on top of it. Yikes! The word “blanched” says it all.
To me, a fruitcake should be made with real fruit, dried or fresh, and not that stuff that has survived a nuclear winter. And if you want to add some real nuts, that’s good, too. I’d be happy to try some fruitcake that has been made with real ingredients.
What about you? Are you a secret lover of fruitcakes? Do you feel that fruitcakes have been unfairly targeted by discriminatory forces? What is your fruitcake opinion?
I am taking the next three days away from WordPress to spend with family and friends – and also to do a lot of cooking – so I won’t be around again until later in the week.
I wish everyone HAPPY HOLIDAYS, and if you have a chance, wander over to see Rarasaur, who is hosting this year’s C4C (Company for Christmas). I tried to paste the badge, but for some reason it wouldn’t take – it’s probably me; I’m so tech savvy 😉 – so take a look at her site, find the badge, click on it, and decide if you would like to participate.
Oh, and by the way, Rara is pretty awesome. Stay for a while and take a look.
This post has been inspired by Jenny Pellett over at Characters from the Kitchen, who wrote about the plethora of “practical” items that keep showing up at this time of the year. Thanks, Jenny. It has also been inspired by a conversation that I had last night with M. Thanks, M.
I was in a long-term relationship with a man who was probably the god of practical buying. He provided me with everything from a remote car starter to a set of gingham kitchen towels. One year, he even bought me an expensive vacuum cleaner.
He wasn’t cheap but there also wasn’t a romantic bone in his body.
But I’m digressing. Here, without further ado, are my top ten Christmas suggestions for that significant lady. You still have time!
But, but, but, you say. “I don’t know her size, her tastes; I’m completely helpless with this sort of thing!” In this case, a gift card may be appropriate – personally, I like gift cards – they sure beat kitchen towels. But if it is not appropriate; for instance, if she sees gift cards as the height of laziness, she will appreciate the effort you have put into finding something non-practical, just for her.
1. Jewellery. It doesn’t have to be expensive, but it does require effort and some thought to find something that she will like.
2. A large, soft scarf in her favourite colour. And if you don’t know her favourite colour, you’re in more trouble than I thought. Hint: if necessary, ask her best friend what it is.
3. Her favourite perfume or cologne. See # 2 above if you don’t know what it is.
4. A massage session. Who wouldn’t want one of those?
5. A pedicure or manicure. If you’re flush, buy both.
6. A written promise that you will make her a three-course meal, including clean-up. She gets to pick the date.
7. Her favourite bottle of wine or her favourite gourmet food item(s) or both. Again, see # 2 above.
8. If you can afford it, a weekend at a great hotel. You can make this as fancy as your pocketbook will allow and can add dinner at a great restaurant and/or a show and/or a spa.
9. A large bouquet of her favourite flowers.
10. A nicely framed photograph of the two of you. By nice, I mean something that suits her home decor and isn’t an Ikea special.
Under no circumstances – unless she has specifically asked – should you buy the following: anything for her car, anything for her kitchen, or anything that is remotely connected to cleaning and/or yard work.