You mess with Harpo Marx, you get the horns.

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!