It's Oscars time. Somebody wake the Grouch.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy New Year!

Well, another year has passed and once again I've failed to complete at least 90% of my New Year's Resolutions. Admittedly, less than 10% out of 7000 is not bad. Perhaps, "getting up every morning" is an easy one, but I know people who didn't manage it, not all of whom are dead.

I knew I'd never win Idol, not with Simon Cowell refusing my phone calls. In fact the only judge who would take them was Paula, and only because she thought I was one of the Jonas Brothers, for some strange reason.

The Boston Marathon was a no-hoper, having not entered or even been in Boston during that time of the year. I'm fairly certain I took an underground train beneath part of the route, so half-credit there.

The Nobel Peace Prize will just have to wait another year, but I'm more optimistic than ever given this year's prize. (Note to self: Bigger promises and get into several photo-ops with Michelle Obama.)

Does this mean I've stopped making resolutions? What on earth would give you that crazy idea? Here are some for 2010.

  • Continue to run and lose weight until I look like a young Sean Connery, or a reasonably decent-looking relative of Sean's. All right, a decent-looking relative of Sean Bean. Mr. Bean?
  • Score a hat-trick in footy without using my feet or head. (I've come close in the past. Stings a bit, high-talking for about 10 minutes, but impressive.)
  • Win the Powerball grand prize a second time. (Of course, the main obstacle to this goal is winning it a first time. Drop me a line, if you've any pointers.)
  • Teach Pope Benedict XVI a few dodging manoeuvres for next year's Midnight Mass. Personally, I think he should learn judo so he can flip the rare crazies, then forgive them and bless them as the Swiss Guard are hauling them away.
  • Complete my five-year tribute show to English comedy. (Englapalooka!)
  • Celebrate Arsenal's treble (I'm hoping I won't have to count the Emirates Cup, Youth Premier, etc. in this lot.)
  • Brace myself for the Jackson family reality TV programme. I won't be watching, but I will have to brace myself for the adverts.
  • Edit and publish my novel. By publish, I mean on actual paper in a manner not involving me hand-lettering each book. If it comes to this, I'm whittling it down to no more than 30 pages, tops.
  • Grow four inches taller, just to confuse people.
  • Take my wife on at least one date a month, just to confuse her.
  • Begin to teach the Littlest Fando to drive. This begins a slow process which I plan to culminate on her 21st birthday, seven years from now. Those of you on the road between now and than have been warned.
  • Travel to Florida. Unfortunately, we'll be getting back from Florida on New Year's Eve with little chance of getting back there in a year, so I really should have moved that up to this past year's list.
  • Have at least one impractical gourmet meal containing at least one food from a part of an animal that I didn't know existed. (This conveniently rules out eating parts of animals I do know exist and never, ever want to actually consume.)
  • Sing in public at least three times, which is once more than I managed this year.
  • Carry slingshot for hecklers. See above. Also, because beating them with my guitar tends to knock it out of tune.
  • Write much more regularly on this blog. Because you deserve it, kind reader. No, that wasn't meant as an insult.

Happy New Year!

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