I do not handle change well. If it were up to me, I’d still be able to fit into my pink Power Ranger costume and Rugrats: All Grown Up! would never exist. Maybe it’s because McDonald’s never brought back their supersize items, or that at a young age I witnessed my neighbor running over my cousin’s cat. . . whatever it may be, I have a hard time facing change. And with 2016 finally here, I’m dreading a tradition I always fail to live up to: New Year’s resolutions.
Let’s face it, New Year’s resolutions set people up for failure. You make a list of goals that get you enough likes on Facebook to make you not cry yourself to sleep, and then within a day you’re back to your old habits. I’m not judging. I get it. Life happens, and Barefoot Contessa is not going to watch itself. It’s not that we can’t commit to goals, it’d just be easier if other people could finish them for us. Rather than facing another year of unaccomplished goals, I’ve come up with a list of New Year’s resolutions that are realistic and sensible enough for me to finish before 2017:
· Scream till I force my body to have a menstruation cycle.
· Reenact my parent’s divorce in a children’s day care.
· Find a stop sign that DOESN’T sexually arouse me.
· Do parkour inside a retirement home.
· Play Yahtzee with a group of deaf kids, AND KICK THEIR ASS!
· Punch everyone that looks like my dentist.
· Spoil the series finale of Breaking Bad to my ten-year-old cousin.
· Buy a storage unit to house my collection of pregnancy tests.
· Go to a Burger King drive-thru and yell out Starbucks orders.
· Change my personal aesthetic from “erotic patriotic” to “Jeffery Dahmer.”
· Feel the touch of a man, preferably dead or dying.
· Play mini-golf with a group of midgets, AND KICK THEIR ASS!
· Explain to my goldfish why God isn’t real.
· Infiltrate a high school marching band and fall in love with the first chair trumpet player.
· Watch a Cialis commercial without crying.
· Tell Carmen Sandiego to cut the shit.
· Crash a high school prom in a dress made out of used condoms and broken diaphragms.
· Become the first GOP presidential candidate with IBS.
· Spend more time with grandma, AND KICK HER ASS!
· Wait for the garbage man to pick up my trash. Then as he leaves, scream loudly, “TAKE ME WITH YOU!”
Stevie King is a freelance writer and comedian with a mild obsession for burning down ice cream trucks. They've often been mistaken for Jack Antonoff, Jason Schwartzman, and your mom.