As Angel and I were indulging in Chinese food before heading to a matinee of Milk on New Year’s Day (aka Jewish X-Mas II: Electric Boogaloo), we discussed our resolutions. Every year, my boo says the same thing: “[I’m going] to be less tolerant of others and be more hateful.” And although I gave it some thought and do have some serious goals I’d like to achieve, I’m throwing these bonus resolutions out there. Enjoy.
1. Become An NHL Player Trophy Wife:
I know this is incredibly fucking lofty. For one thing, I’ve never been a very good groupie. Then the obvious: I’m pretty much the antithesis of an actual trophy wife. I’m neither tall, blonde nor drop-dead stunning. And I’m mouthy. Very, very mouthy. This is all detrimental to my career as a gold digger.
But let’s think about it for a minute: Most hockey players are of Scandinavian, Eastern European or Canadian descent, they love beer, and the overwhelming majority of them are metalheads. I think I might stand a chance yet… especially if I aim for a minor leaguer (I’m looking at you, Brooklyn Aces). Even if they’re young and divorce me for some vapid bimbo after they goes pro, I can still get the starter marriage/alimony package out of the way.
2. Punch Someone In The Face Really Hard:
This is actually Angel’s second favorite resolution to make, but I’m jacking it. Don’t say something stupid, or it might apply to you.
3. Talk More Shit:
This might not even be possible, as even a French Canadian hook-up with a minimal grasp of English figured out I was a world-class shit-talker within 24 hours of meeting me. But fuck it, if you’re good, why quit?
4. Read More Comic Books:
Everyone knows I wear my nerd cred on my sleeve, but I’ve really fallen off on my comic book reading. Sure I got through Y: The Last Man, Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Season 8 and Jonah Hex in 2008, but that’s not nearly enough. In ’09, I’m starting a graphic novel club. You're welcome, Jonah B.
5. Stay Away From The Arrow:
Happy hour can be such a mixed blessing. Sure, the drinks are cheap, but it starts so early that by the time the clock hits 10 pm, I’m drunk-texting manifestos to half my contact list. So what makes The Arrow the scapegoat for this? Half the people I know in the music industry DJ here weekly, so between July and October, I think I spent at least one night there each week. That’s too much commitment for me, Rodeo was starting to get jealous.
Watch: I’ll be spinning there by March. Khia into John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band, anyone?
