This year I refuse to get into petty arguments with people and will instead follow the advice of Gandhi and settle everything on the dance floor.
This year I will no longer wear black leather gloves to PTA meetings, and then tell the ladies that if they don’t keep the bake sale talk to a minimum, they’re going to meet the new head of the STFU Committee.
This year I will stop calling my right thigh “Chicken” and my left thigh “Waffles.”
This year I will apologize to my estranged friend Jennifer for saying that her husband has the looks and personality of a morning zoo DJ from Omaha, and that she should probably get him tested for rabies before winter comes.
This year I will create a new playlist on my iPod called, “Music to Swiffer By.” (Track #1: Everybody Hurts by REM. Track #2: OPP by Naughty by Nature.)
This year I will no longer run into BBQ restaurants and yell, “Has anyone seen my pet pig? He was just here a minute ago. Petey! Where are you, Petey? Mama misses you, baby! Come hoooome! Hey, why does that rib look so familiar?“
This year I will stop telling other mothers that we can’t have play dates at our house because I’m still under investigation.
This year the Today Show will finally ask me to appear either because a) I’ve written a best selling novel or b) I accidentally amputated my right hand with my Cuisinart food processor and my husband caught it on video.
This year I won’t stand in my front yard and throw doughnuts at the boot camp ladies jogging by. At least not the jelly-filled kind.
This year I will determine if that one reality show is called “Dog: The Bounty Hunter” or “Bounty: The Dog Hunter.” I will also try to find out why my hair looks like his whenever I have my period.
This year I will try to make it through an entire Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy without screaming, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PEOPLE, WHERE’S THE F*CKING MORPHINE? I’M DYING OVER HERE! SOMEONE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY! JUST PUNCH ME IN THE FACE, JACKASS! PUUUNCH ME!” even once.
This year I will stop asking the short, spray tanned lady in my neighborhood how things are going down at the chocolate factory. She never knows.
This year I will dye my hair black and change my name to “Khendi” so the Kardashians will finally adopt me and put me in charge of Booty Exfoliation and Implant Management. And if I’m lucky, Bruce Jenner Embalming.
This year I will set up a poison-dart filled booby trap to catch any Girl Scout cookie pushers before they get to my front door. Yeah, that’s right, Troop 211. Live in fear.
And finally, this year I’ll try to get out of the house a little more.
I think it’s probably for the best.
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Have some free time?
Here are the resolutions I didn’t keep in 2010
And the resolutions I didn’t keep in 2009
Ah, memories.

Sounds like you have quite a bit on your plate to turn around, might rethink the black gloves!
[…] Resolutions for 2011 […]
I resolved to quit mocking people that write like this: OMG!!! My granny DIED!!! FML. But I LOOOOVVVEEEE my friends!!!! Pray for me!!!!
Because, bless their little black hearts, they are obviously idiots who deserve pity, not mocking.
2011 looks like it’s going to be a huge personal growth year for me.
Poison darts for Girl Scout cookie pushers? Are you completely nuts?
Oh wait, never mind.
Get out of the house….yes! Thanks for the great read.
Resolutions are meant to be broken. Especially yours. Happy New Year and may the book publishers sit up and take notice!
Aim high, my friend. You can do it!
Screw Ghandi – petty arguments are the nectar of the gods. And of the Real Housewives. Also, I know for a fact that Chicken and Waffles hate swiffering. Don’t do that to them.
[…] I never did one of those New Year’s resolution posts. I knew it could never be as good as this one. […]
Here via Kelcey and MamaBirdDiaries. Love your resolutions. And the ones from 09 and 10. Can’t wait to see what comes for 2012!
I wanna sign up for the STFU committee too. Unless I gotta volunteer for something. Then I’m still under investigation.
Like the resolutions. But most of them seem like a whole bunch of fun. You might want to think of breaking a few of them. I’d still keep the Girl Scouts away. Those cookies will ruin any diet.
Oh, I think I love you.
(coming from a first time reader. impressive)
I’m still crying, so I subscribed. Found you over at Fordeville Diaries. Thanks for the comic relief. 🙂