Where's the fire, 2005?
Yes! Look at all those clarion calls I got from fellow bloggers, especially my mentor Winky, and my former slav--I mean housemate Thoresen Wells. (When did Thoresen become a small black child? Why doesn't anyone tell me anything??) I am heartened by your support, all of of you. I even had to remove my pincenez and parlor gloves momentarily, as both were soaked with my salty, grateful tears.
Last night I stayed up late working on stuff and despite being so tired I think my eyeballs are about to melt into goo, I can't quite settle into sleep yet. I think it's partially because my conversation with Winky just reminded me that I haven't made all of my resolutions yet for 2005 and the damn year's already going so fast. It's only Jan. 10 and I'm feeling nostalgic for 2005.
I have an admittedly corny but beloved ritual with making resolutions. I like to sit down with a nice black pen, my journal and a bottle of wine. I read through the past year's events, and I take in all the crap-ass things that happened, and all the sweet things, all the while getting softly drunk, the kind of drunk you get only when alone. Then I let it all stew in a soft-wine-bitter-haze. And then, finally, I record YE RESOLUTIONS, some of which I actually keep. Some get transferred to next year's resolutions; others just fall away because I don't care about them anymore.
Anyway, here's the few that I have so far:
1. Take Spanish lessons
2. Get better about remembering birthdays
3. Don't hang out with buttholes
4. Resume a regular yoga practice
5. Finish book project
6. Drive up the West Coast
Make your own guesses about which ones have been long-standing. (Here's a hint, amigos: no sabe espanol.)
posted by Margaret Louise @ 11:18 PM
6 Comments:
Hi Margaret nice to see you wondering around here. You have inspired me to make my own list of resolutions, and get drunk with myself at home more. That always seems to end up with me in a mumu blaring Connie Francis, with god awful amounts of eye make-up on, crying about some imaginary situation, dancing with Lou, with a 2 inch long ash hanging off my Capri cig, talking to walls. Warm AND fuzzy. So you want to come over and get drunk with me? No really, do you?
Don't forget to include: eat more puddin'
Recent studies have shown than 8 out of 10 americans lack proper puddin' in their diet. Especially the ole fashioned variety (with the skin on top)
And yes, I have transformed myself into Webster circa 1984 with the help of several painful cosmetic surgical proceedures.
That pro bilingual attitude of yours will only lead to more spanish on pay phones and pay toilet instructions confusing bitter elderly people every where.
Thoresen is right. How could I be so insensitive to the plight of the scant few English speakers left in America? Sheesh, they should just go ahead and change the country's name to Splangmerica.
Imagine you're 75, can't see well, you're on the subway.
Just as the train comes to a stop you accidentally read the spanish half of the, "Stand clear of doors" sign.
Confusion sets in. What kind of crazy Spaniard speak is that? I didn't move to mexico, steal their jobs, and refuse to learn their language, insisting everything be writen in english. No sir why I should my tax dollars go to help........ DOORS OPEN Walker and all you tumble to your death. I don't think either of us want that to happen.
Spanish classes? Why not just invite the devil over for dinner and ask him to bring along his contract signing pen.
Thanks for remembering my birthday. Chalk one off that list of resolutions. Well done. No, no, medium rare.
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