I don’t believe in New Years resolutions, only because in the past they only set me up for failure. After my son was born in the early 90’s, my initial leap into resolutions was to never have another child. Later that year, my wife at the time, Becky, gave birth to twins, as some sort of cosmic punishment for me for A-resolving to not fathering any more children and B-not heating the house during the cold winter months, leaving us with very few options for staying warm. So we had the baby girls, but that was it, no more babies for me, the very next New Year, I resolved dammit it, no more babies.
Nine months later, my new wife, Becky point 2 gave birth to our very first baby, who we lovingly named Tuberculosis in honor of Becky.2’s father who had died 20 years prior to the birth of baby Tuberculosis from a rare genetic disease commonly referred to as drunkenly getting hit by a taxi cab in Hong Kong. I, of course, lobbied for the name Drunken Loser, but Becky.2 was a strong woman and wanted to honor her father, so we compromised, which is what healthy couples learn to do, or they get divorced. We divorced later that year.
My resolution at the end of that year was to never ever ever get married again. In Febuary of that next year I got married, but it was romantic because it was February 14th, which is a romantic day, because it was the day Jesus was given chocolate by the three stupid men. As opposed to the Wise Men who gave him the Mir Space Craft, Frakenstein and a candle. A lot of people did not read that chapter in the bible about the 3 stupid men, but it’s right there, after Corninthians, but before the cookbook part, I forget what it’s called, and if I take the time to edit this (highly unlikely because this years resolution was No Editing) I will find which chapter deals with the three stupid men who made February 14th the day Jesus got chocolate.
As a side note, for Rick Santorum and all the other holier than thou people, it just seems to me, Jesus spent a heck of a lot of time with wise men, stupid men, men in dresses and other garments that look a heck of a lot like dresses, prostitutes, vagrants, drug addicts, cross dressers, people who sure spent a lot of time turning water into wine and the like. I’m not saying anything about gay marriage or anything, but if you asked me was Jesus, you know, accepting of alternative lifestyles, well, he was the son of an unwed mother who always claimed that his father was, well out of the picture, and all the guys I know who come from such situations are, if lucky, super gay. Just saying.
Back to resolutions. I married another Becky after Becky.2 but because the new Becky was from a foreign land, Ireland I believe, only judging from her accent and her inability to read English and unwillingness to use birth control of any sort, we had a long a fruitful relationship. When asked in the international court of law to define “long and fruitful” I swore on the Koran that I took it to mean the making of 17 children and having less than 14 affairs, which of course was a lie, because at the time I was both an astronaut and a fairly well know standup comic in the Ukraine, which made sexual conquests easy by American standards, which is to say, if you can still get erections after a gallon of home made vodka, you can pretty much do whatever it is you want.
There is a decent chance that I am personally responsible for as many as 15 thousand children in various parts of the former Soviet Union, but who is counting, really. I am not proud of that decade, although, truth be told, I am kind of proud. First, I learned that when you barf in space, no one can hear you, even mission control, who at the time was the same woman who now speaks so seductively for the Verizon Corporation when you call to complain that your 800 dollar texting bill that seems just a little steep. “I’m sorry sir, but that line is currently understaffed and you’re wait time is approximately 15 thousand hours, would you like to hold, or would you just prefer to bend over now and we could have a burly Verizon subcontractor stop by between the hours of 6AM and midnight to savagely abuse you in ways once thought unimaginable?”
This year, when I woke up on the first of January and realized I had made it to a brand spanking new year, without either a brand or a spanking, I decided that I would not make any resolutions. That’s when I saw the man in the cheap suit laying next to me. Now, if you are like me, and chances are you are not, because you did not wake up with a fat man in a bad suit next to you on New Years day, holding an envelope that read, hand to the hairy fat man on New Years Day. As I tried to sneak out of bed, the badly dressed bald guy woke up in an instant and said, “you be served,” and stood up, walked downstairs, kicked my lesbian dog for good measure and left. The dog kicking is true and I found that sort of abuse both mean spirited and well, deserved, because quite honestly, what the hell do I even have a lesbian dog for if not to stop these sorts of situations from transpiring in the first place?
That said, Becky.4 filed for divorce. Which is good really, I am tired of being married. I am tired of the responsibility that comes with marriage, the constant “hello, how may I service you today” sort of thing I am always saying, and “how may I help you with that Mercedes Class C sedan you carjacked this morning, honey?” I guess at this point I can honestly say I am not good at relationships, most of my exes are either convicted felons, living fulltime in hostels in the seedier parts of Paris or running as republican presidential candidates.
That is all over now. I have decided to dedicate my life to being a modern man. In fact, even though I am a week or so late, I have made a resolution for this year to be a completely modern man. I even bought a cellphone, a smart cellphone, one that has a screen and buttons and the ability to read minds and tell me deep dark secrets. I hold my cellphone and look at the screen and the apps and I wait for it to direct my life in ways that I once thought were unimaginable. A new world in opening for me, right there in my hand. This cellphone has changed everything. I am told I will be able to find restaurants, dates and bike shops at the press of a pretty button. I am a digital man now and the world is my electronic oyster. Of course, I will have to call my ex-NASA co-worker to get some service of some sort and that could take literally months of negotiations, but once I have what the kids like to call a service plan and soon after that I master how to actually turn the damn thing on, then and only then will I figure out if this glorious new digital world that has opened in the palm of my hand that currently is no more than just a series of circuits and electronic pinger splazzes, because right now, that 500 dollar phone is being used by my dog to cover the bruise she received from the angry New Years day divorce process server.
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