Thursday, December 29, 2005

Meme: Weekend Assignment #92

Thus Sprake Scalzi: Weekend Assignment #92: Resolutions

Tick, tick, tick... time is running out on 2005, and as we look toward 2006, we have a few things we would like to achieve for ourselves in the new year. With that in mind, your (very timely) Weekend Assignment:

Weekend Assignment 92: Do you Have New Year's Resolutions for 2006? If so, share one (or more, if you like).

Extra Credit: How did you do on your resolutions for 2005?

You're up: Think about what resolutions you have for yourself for 2006, write them up in your blog or journal, and then come back here to leave a link. Good luck with you resolutions, whatever they are!


My personal resolution for 2006: I'm going to try to avoid dying this year ... more on that later.

I don't do resolutions very well. Otherwise, it might have been only 3.5 years of smoking, instead of three and a half decades.

On Domestic Tranquility: Like Monsieur Scazi, I desperately need organization. But to set it in type as a resolve? Let me put it this way – I'm already up to my ass in alligators. There's no way I want to be caught French kissing some ol' 25 footer come next New Year's!

On Personal Relationships: I need to start building the bench work for my train layout before the better half takes the Dremel tool in hand and whittles away on me a new one, if you catch my drift – she wants trains to play with!

On Domestic Harmony: The garage, cellar and attic need to be cleaned out, straightened up, and organized. So does every part of the house in between. This is just fact – not something I am proud of. Despite nearly seven years of marriage, SWMBO has failed to tame this old bear with furniture, doilies, or new dishes. I resolve to do better in 2006 in the Domestic Engineering Department.

On Mortality: My health is deteriorating rapidly, my driving is becoming faster and faster in this pell mell, helter skelter world, I haven't anyone available who can go kayaking when I can, so I am forced to go alone or forgo my chief pleasure in life, something I am unwilling to do (before you think me too selfish, I've already given up cigarettes, booze, and skirt chasing. The previously cited activities are all I have left. All are activities or situations fraught with peril and the potential for fatal consequences if mistakes are made. I do know the risks). So, as I indicated when I started this piece, I resolve to try to avoid dying this year. Not for me, but to avoid causing grief for others.

Finally, I resolve to be nicer to others this year. I'll try to use the signal before I cut them off. I'll only give a slowpoke two flashes of my “Halogen High Beams of Death” before passing on the inside of the curve, instead of simply “love tapping” them off the road and out of my way. I'll refrain from going for the extra points at the school crossing, letting the pregnant teacher waddle all the way back to within three feet of the curb instead of jack rabbiting the start after the last munchkin has stepped up to the sidewalk.

When I shoot two-legged reporters, Seventh Day Adventists and other annoyances that wake me from a sound sleep at 11 AM varmints, I resolve to try to go for a clean kill, rather than the messy stomach shot that so often leaves them writhing on the ground in agony for five or six minutes as they bleed out.

I'll try to be kinder and more tolerant of Democrats I may have dealings with; instead of always lighting the fuse to the dynamite without warning, I'll suggest they vacate the premises first.

I resolve to exercise greater restraint with the doctors, nurses and other “good health practitioners” I deal with. They can't help being pussies – it's genetic.

I'll belay that order for a new hood-mounted laser cannon for the Rolling Deathmobile of Doom. After all, the tourists do bring in significant economic benefits along with the total bullshit they serve up.

But, I refuse to be nice to all of the flaming asswipes driving around talking on real or imaginary cell phones. They're dead meat and I'm the cleaver!

Laser Cannon locked and loaded, all pigs ready to fly ... goodbye, 2005. So long and good riddance.

And so it goes...

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