Ringing in the New Year will be on the Lido Deck with Contractor Girl, our chickens and no doubt resolving to be somehow better, more successful and thinner in 2015.
My resolutions tend to take on a life all their own. Lose weight, exercise more, drink less and meet new people. The problem is simple. I like to eat. I hate exercise. It doesn’t release endorphins. I just get more creative in excuse generation. Drinking less is out of the question. Vodka is sustenance. That is all. As for meeting new people? There are so few I actually like.
When I resolve, it’s with an eye toward what I might actually accomplish and less about setting myself up for failure. My list this year is attainable and while it may not make me a better person, I will have fun.
I resolve to wear red lipstick. The Fixer pokes me on this one. Tells me to brighten up a bit. I brush on red lipstick and drink in the power. I now own the damn room because of a ten-dollar stick from Walgreens that transports me to ooh la la land. I become intensely aware of my mouth, purse my lips often, touch them and draw attention to them. Whether this is actually attractive, I have no idea. I just know I feel like the hottie in the house. Except when I exit the bathroom stall and realize my incisor is also a lovely shade of red.
The simple reason I will resolve not to drink less is no one likes skinny, sober bitches and their constant drivel about kale. Besides, dancing on tables gives people something to talk about other than the lipstick on my teeth and the size of my ass.
I will take more quizzes on buzzfeed. Because there are days I really do care which Disney villainess I am. It’s important I know my sass level and what kind of eighties rocker chick I am. Besides, when I go to parties, people often ask, “Would I rather? Hot soccer players or hot rugby players.” There may come a time I need to know what pop song lyrics predict my future and which celebrity I should hook up with in 2015. What if I run into him at Target and don’t know?
I resolve to master hash tags. As in #FBF which is Follow Back Friday and #FF which evidently means Follow Friday. What is the obsession with Fridays? Or #OTP which is One True Pairing. Is this wine? If so, I want in. And this: #OOTD which is Outfit of the Day. There is discussion about this and I’m not in?
Some are simply baffling. #BaeCaughtMeSlippin. This is a selfie taken by an imaginary bed partner while pretending to be asleep. The purpose of this is? And when did sleeping become “slippin?” I thought Bae was Beyoncé. When did that business change?
A final resolution is to get behind Idris Elba as the new James Bond. Some say Bond cannot be a black man. Seems to me the requirements for Bond are martinis, good looks and the ability to fill out a tuxedo, swagger intact. Ding ding. I do believe we have a winner.
Perhaps it’s Idris who is my celebrity of 2015—is there a quiz for that?