It’s that time of year again. When calendars turn to December, everyone begins to ponder what his or her New Year’s resolutions will be. I am no different. However, instead of my usual ‘just don’t die’ mantra, I have actually come up with a couple of things to do in 2007.
First, it’s time for me to trim the fat, most notably my own. When I arrived at this fine institution in the fall of 2003, I was a puny 130 pounds. Sneezes toppled me. I was damn near see-thru. Now, more than four years later, I tip the scales at a burly 176 pounds. I have packed on a whopping 46 pounds, almost none of it muscle. Who am I kidding? None of it is muscle. Just in time
for the holiday season, I have become Santa
Claus-in-training.
Don’t get it twisted, though; I am not “fat.”
I am merely approaching festively plump. I am almost bigboned. I am, as my editor in chief has dubbed me, slightly pudgy.
But that will all change come Jan. 1. As of that date, I will cut down on my soft drink intake. I will no longer make my diet a revolving door of Subway, Panda Express, The Jail, Quiznos and Carl’s Jr.
Additionally, I probably could stand to get a little more exercise. This term, I have moved only slightly more often than a Valium-riddled sloth. I can recognize intricate details of my ass in the groove it has left on my oh-so-comfy couch. Next term, I vow to move at least twice that often.
I plan on forming an intramural basketball team with the sports desk and my fellow sports copy editor, Doug Bonham. I suggest we call our team “The Ballsiest Bunch.”
Resolution number two: Get myself laid. At this point, I am seeing less action than an Amish whorehouse. I know, I know, shocker, right? The guy who has just spent nine column inches calling himself tubsy has trouble bedding someone down? Get out.
It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have leered, I have cat-called, I have whistled, I have raised one seductive eyebrow, and then two, all to no avail. I have even employed what I thought was my secret weapon: The Spicy Hips.
Bachelors out there, feel free to use this one until your pelvis is sore (wink, wink). First, place your hands on your hips, fingers facing outward with the thumbs out of view. Next, thrust your dominant (right for a right-hander, left for a southpaw) hip both up and outward. This signals to the ladies that you are both assertive, and slightly feminine. And, truth be told, we all know that nothing drives a woman wild like a like a little Lady in her Tramp.
Oh, and to up the vomit-inducing ante just a wee bit higher, I will be spending my break on the beaches of sunny Cancun, Mexico. That’s right, I will be topless, with my man-tits flowing free for the majority of 10 days.
I will pause here while the audience loses its collective lunch. There they are, my two goals for 2007. Wish me luck.