The world would be a lot better place if only, well, if only beauty queens worked as hard for world peace as they profess to want it.
That’s the problem with resolutions. They require hard work. If only hard work were as easy as wishing.
As a perennial resolutions junkie who sometimes actually accomplishes what she resolves (how long did it take to “write a book”? five years? I accomplished that one this year), I’d like to see the rest of the world take up a few of my “if only” wishes.
While I ponder my own list of resolutions to lose weight, sleep more and work for world peace, here’s a list of resolutions I wish other people would make:
I resolve to stay out of the left lane. This one is for Wisconsin residents in particular. My Beloved hates it when slow drivers hog up the left lane driving 1 mile over the speed limit, and I hate listening to him nurse road rage.
I resolve to alert the authorities when I use the last of the toilet paper. Only a selfish cretin uses the last of the TP in the Kum & Go and then slips quietly away. Really?
I resolve to quit soaking Illinois taxpayers for outrageous public pensions. If you don’t live in Illinois and all you hear about is the federal fiscal cliff, you might not know how close to the edge of apocalypse the Illinois budget teeters. Here’s how it works: Public employees — especially those who work for certain municipalities and the state in Illinois — can retire after 20 years and then collect 80% of their salary in the form of a pension. People work until they’re, say, 48, retire to take not a vacation in the tropics but a new job, sometimes consulting for a service provider to the state, and Illinois taxpayers are stuck paying the bill. I’d have a lot fewer headaches at tax time if those perfectly healthy and capable former public employees between the ages of 40 and 65 simply donate their pensions back to the state until they really retire. I don’t care if you think you “earned it.” I earned a retirement once, too, and I lost the whole kit and caboodle when the company went bankrupt. It sucks but you’ll live to blog about it. I did.
I resolve to try topping my oatmeal with an egg, fried over easy. I think this must be the perfect marriage of breakfast foods, this concoction of high-fiber oatmeal with high-protein egg. I enjoy a runny yolk melting into my hash browns, but I just can’t stomach the egg-oatmeal combo. So someone else should.
I resolve to turn off the TV whenever I see Honey Boo Boo, the evening news or Matt Lauer mooing over the latest news of the royals jubileeing the queen, prancing around naked or toasting the next heir to the throne incubating in Kate’s innards. None of this information will make or break your day, and it only prevents the media from creating better programming to distract me from Facebook and O Magazine.
I resolve not to play games that bombard my friends to donate pounds of cheese to Chefville or piles of chips to Bonanza Poker. It’s irritating. It’s a ploy Facebook uses to dumb down my News Feed. Take your games elsewhere.
I resolve not to name my baby Xtina, Psy or Siri. That’s the best you can do? Your child is the once-in-the-world unique product of you and the mate with whom you chose to copulate, and you’re going to choose a pop culture reference as his or her lifetime brand? Jessica, Justin and Jennifer are acceptable, but only marginally. Now, if you’re thinking of naming your son Tiberius Napoleon, which I seriously considered when I never seriously considering procreating, you’re off the hook. That’s inspired.
I resolve never to clip my toenails or have sex in hotels. Ever. This will make my hotel experience after your stay infinitely better.