New Year’s Resolutions

Ten percent of all New Year’s Resolutions fail, according to some magazine I recently leafed through. New Year’s Resolutions are like trendy clothes–you’re crazy about them at first, start to get a little tired and bored of them, and finally, you ditch them. Let’s face it, challenging yourself to start the Insanity workout the day after the year’s biggest binge-drinking fest is not exactly a stellar idea.

Which is why you should just resolve to do easy stuff! Exercising, diets, doing that whole no-shampoo hair thing–these are all great, but they’re lifestyle changes, and they need to be contingent upon a real desire to change, not a drunken promise you made on December 31st. In my humble opinion, New Year’s Resolutions should be fun. Now, I personally don’t make any, because I’m not a nerd, but if that’s your thing, I’ve compiled a few you might try. Ditch your new gym membership, put down that lean salmon, and listen up.

New Year’s Resolutions Anyone Can Actually Stick To!

  1. Try a new hairstyle once every week. All year. It’s going to be hilarious (after the usuals, you’re going to have to get creative–hope you look good in cornrows!) and a great excuse to spend tons of money on hair products.
  2. Invent your own signature cocktail (and then teach it to the bartenders every time you go out). When the “[Your Name Here]” becomes a thing, and all the sorority girls are ordering it at the pub, you’ll thank me.
  3. Get a pet. Animals are extremely funny and do weird, entertaining things all the time. If you hate animals, get a cat–they’ll hate you too, and they’ll still be entertaining!
  4. Learn a stupid skill that will get you laid. You know what drunk people love? Stupid tricks. Not everyone can do a cartwheel or spit sunflower seeds into a shot glass–these are life skills! 2013 is your year, baby.
  5. Eat a food you’ve never tried every month, for all 12 of ’em. And I mean never. Here comes uglyfruit, zebra meat, and caviar (for those with a previously unsophisticated palette). You’re welcome!

Ok, go!


Eat Me

Okay, so I used to have a bit of an issue with food. Nothing cray-cray full-on anorexic, but it would go a little something like this: eat only dinners (small ones) all week, then eat a bunch of junk one day, feel horrible about myself, and resume not eating much until the next week when all seven days’ worth of hunger built up again. Besides the days when I ate nothing, my proudest day was eating only a serving-size of Triscuits (which is 4, in case you’re curious).

That was a while ago, about seven years, to be exact (holy fuckadoodledoo, I feel old). It wasn’t super horrible, I guess, as far as eating issues go–I lost my period and prided myself on staying in the double-digits of the weight range, which was not so great because I was (and am) tall, but I never grew lanugo or started cutting myself or wearing tiny fisherman’s sweaters. And after a while I just stopped doing it, because hey, I was hungry.

But at the risk of being a little over-dramatic, it has fucked up my relationship with food ever since. (Also, I hate that phrase, even though I just used it. “Relationship”? The only people who have “relationships” with food are fat, because the rest of us have real-life people for that. But you get the idea.)  Even though I started eating normally again, I still hated myself for every single thing I put in my mouth (that sounds ridiculously emo, I know. Fuck you guys, go eat something) and felt guilty after every meal. But that shitty side effect (mostly) went away.

But the past couple of weeks, I feel like I just got sucked back into a tube of oh-fuckkery, as far as eating is concerned. I’ve been working out every morning and stuff, which is good, but now I’m also geeking on calories and whatnot. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I TRY TO BE HEALTHY?

In all honesty, though, this is no buneo. It’s even more fucked up because I don’t want to go back to that, but in some horrible way I do; it’s like an old friend. If you’re nodding in agreement, you are also fucked up.

This isn’t normally the type of thing I post on here, but it’s my blog, and if blogs weren’t made for posting dramatic self-absorbed accounts of personal weirdness, then what are they for?!? Okay, fine, fine, I’ll post something about sex after this.

Lots of Talking and Food Lust

Right about now, I would like some raspberries. Or some any-kind-of-food-that-isn’t-dining-hall-dinner. Preferably something sweet and calorific and delicious. I’m bleeding to death thanks to Mother Nature, which makes me want food (to replace the blood with fat, I guess?). That’s definitely something Mr. Internet wanted to know, obviously…sharing is caring!

Seriously, though, imagine putting this in your mouth right now (that’s what she said!):

Ice cream + cookies + sprinkles + heart shape = EXACTLY WHAT I WANT RIGHT NOW. Even if they were shaped like stars, or Hitler’s face, or an earwig, I would still totally eat them.

Failing that, a healthy and nutritious snack of peanut M & Ms and some Doritos would do the trick.

They say never shop when you’re hungry, and that is obviously also true of writing a blog post. Because this reads like it’s straight from the home page of Fatty McFatFat’s Blog: A Food Diary of All Things Fat! However, I want food more than a chihuahua wants Taco Bell, and so I’m gonna give myself a free pass this one time on not saying anything interesting. But OH WAIT, hold the telephone, Mr. Bell (ooh, a historical reference, you get it? ‘Cause with the phones, and the inventing? Never mind)! I never say anything interesting, so it’s all okay.

Topic change: what’s the deal with those black-framed, non-prescription-lensed glasses everyone’s rocking lately? Like this gal:

Sometimes I hate them, and sometimes (like on this girl) I think they’re adorable. Basically I only hate them when they look terrible, because I’m like, why the fuck make yourself look uglier? I’m all for wearing whatever you want, but I’m just throwing this out there: giant Buddy Holly glasses are not for everyone. If you have a giant nose, for example, like this girl I see everywhere sporting these and making herself look like Rumer Willis’s homely sister (which is NEVER a positive). I mean, I know, that’s dick of me, but legit, if I were to toss on high-waisted ’90s mom jeans and someone yelled, “Flat ass!” it would be dick…but it would also be true. Just saying.

My thoughts are all over the place, so I am just going to put this GIF of a girl with sparkly eyelashes blinking to end this. It seems like as good a way as any.