“One: Consider the probable reality that all time is simultaneous.”
When I was maybe 17, I rang in the new year at a friend’s house. He was a year or two older than us, and his mom was at the party, roughly supervising, so we were feeling all mature and worldly. Despite our wisdom past our years, we did run out of wine for the wine coolers–hey, what can I say? it was the 80’s–which led me to replace it with another cold alcoholic beverage: vodka.
Those drinks led me under the kitchen table, where I have a vague memory of my friend Mary lifting up my head and putting a bowl under it. There was also the horking in my best friend’s car and the 24-hour dry heaves on his bathroom floor all through January 1. He finally took me home, propped me up by the front door, rang the bell, and backed away, not really wanting to see Mom’s reaction.
Mom wasn’t angry at him, however, just at me. She was smart like that. And I can see now why she was angry. However, at the time I was a teenager, so after I recovered from the alcohol poisoning, I was more embarrassed than scared that I’d almost fatally poisoned myself. It helps that everyone reminded me of it for weeks afterward with questions like, “Papa Bradstein? I heard you were dead.”
That year, my one new year’s resolution was to quit drinking. And that is the only year that I successfully kept my resolution…up until that 4th of July softball party on the Stanford golf course, when we ended up on the observatory roof, passing a bottle of tequila around. I will say that not only did we all make it safely off the golf course before the sprinklers came on, but we also all made it safely home that night without any barfing.
But I digress again…the point is that after learning that not even near-death experiences can motivate me to keep my resolutions, I gave up on them. Resolutions, that is, not near-death experiences, although I am trying to cut back on those too. This year, however, Mama has decided that rather than making a resolution, she’s going to have a theme for the upcoming year: balance.
I love that theme, and not just because balance is a good way to keep the olives from flipping out of the glass onto the floor, where Barky will lick them, then gag and cough all over them, forcing me back to the fridge to get more.
“Four: All limitations are self-imposed.”
And if I pick a theme, I can also toss out my draft list of resolutions:
- Stop writing self-incriminating blog posts.
- Stop talking about poop.
- To thine own self be true, starting with keeping all of Bacchus’s new year’s promises, several of SpainDad’s, and one of Vampdaddy’s (see #7, because #1 isn’t going to happen).
- Get a new chain for my steel steed and reaquaint myself with the Novocaine Effect, the Frozen Glove Mucus Effect, and the Genital Numbness Ambiguity Effect.
- Send out our holiday cards before we have to print a Valentine’s Day message on them.
What about you, my six faithful readers? Any resolutions? Any that you’ve already broken? Any themes? Anyone resolved not to make any resolutions? Any good ideas for a theme for my year–just kidding, of course; I did pick one.
Monday: my theme. (15 bonus Bradstein points if you guess it before I post it.)