Happy New Year, bitches.

Let's do a little re-cap of my year. This is probably only interesting to me, but keep reading anyway.

January: I was cold.
February: Discovered Cinnamon Dolce Lattes at Starbucks. Sold soul to Devil to pay for them.
March: Came in like a lion. Left like a lion. I drank a lot of beer and coffee and didn't eat.
April: Moved into a new place, began eating again.
May: Played a hooker on stage.
June: Fell in love with my complex's pool. Tried to marry it, found this was illegal in all fifty states.
July: Began rehearsals for Pippin. Invited skin cancer into life by continuing sordid affair with pool.
August: Played over-zealous, over-sexed step-mother on stage. Wore cool flapper dress, not so cool hat.
September: My birthday. Forced everyone around me to celebrate it for the whole month by acting like total brat.
October: Halloween. Dressed like White Trash.
November: Played hyper-active Elf in murder/mystery dinner theatre. Ate inordinate amounts of green bean casserole.
December: Cursed live tree in living room for leaving needles ALL OVER APARTMENT, drove car on rock, ate Christmas cookie size of head.

And now that you've read that, here are my New Year's Resolutions:

1. Continue being the awesome.
2. Have better year than last year.
3. Train dog to bring me cell phone, remote control, beer and assorted snacks.
4. Never consciously diet. Ever.
5. Find Sugar Daddy. Have him pay all bills. Dump his ass immediately after. Use line, "It's not you, it's me."
6. Did I say yet, "continue being the awesome"?

Okay, no, I never actually make NYR's. I never do them. Ever. I feel as though everyone else around me should change anyway. There's no need for me to lose ten pounds if everyone else gains 20.

Wow. I'm doing so well already. And it's only three days in...