My Failed New Year's Resolutions

Happy New Year! Umm, like, a week ago. 

Whoops.

I meant to write, guys! I really did, but it was my birthday, and I was doing a spot-on 2008 Lindsay Lohan impression, which takes up a lot more time than you'd think. I'm basically just regaining my basic motor skills.

But there is something about being a week late to this whole New Year's post thing--we don't have to pretend that we've stuck to our resolutions.

New Year, new me? Nope! New year, same me--now with this one fucking line on my forehead that's going to force me to buy a botox Groupon.

However, I'm sure some of y'all are overachievers and have yet to give up on your promises to become a better version of yourself in 2014. Well, good for you! Also, you're probably in the wrong place. I hear there's some interesting, socially-conscious shit happening over at Upworthy.

Now that those assholes are gone, let's get back to business. Don't feel bad if you've decided to go back to drinking and watching reality TV by January 3rd, you're in good company. Over half the people who make resolutions break them in less than six months. That's science. I think.

So in the spirit of personal failure I thought I'd disclose the resolutions I've already given up on.

1. Quit Starbucks Unnamed Coffee Shop. I came home from work smelling like mocha and broken dreams today. I was also hit on by an older gentleman without teeth. Basically it was a good day.

2. Get Healthy. Work Out. Etc. I had a chocolate muffin that was filled with melted caramel for breakfast. It was delicious. It tasted like feelings.

3. Be Nicer. Not happening. See: This blog.

4. Use Time More Wisely. I spent over an hour pouring through the hashtag #nomnomnom on Instagram today. See: Number 2 

5. Write More. Blog More. Publish Something. Hahahahaha. I write about dicks on the Internet. I'm gonna be a barista FOREVER.

However, I am blogging right now so maybe there's still hope. But probably not.

Oh well, at least I still have some leftover birthday cake.

Welcome to Funkytown

I try not to write when I don't have anything to say.

Don't get me wrong I could tell you all about my insomnia or my back letting me know I'm no longer a spring chicken by going out on me, but those things aren't really interesting.

Are they?

Yeah, I didn't think so either.

Basically I'm in a funk. A working too much. Sleeping too little. What in the fuck am I doing with my life. FUNK. Which means that all of my ideas for posting revolve around the following:

1. Dramatically quitting my job. And telling some Escalade-driving cunt that I would rather live in a cardboard box than make her another Nonfat Latte.

2. Dramatically quitting my job. And telling my boss that I would rather give an unwashed Newt Gingrich an enthusiastic rimjob than listen to her talk about how much she hates her husband and children.

Don't get me wrong, my funk was not born out of a dissatisfaction with my job. This funk was born from monotony.

I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Same shit. Different day.

So, dear reader, help me out. How do you break out of a rut?

In the spirit of full disclosure, a box of wine did nothing.

Anything else?